Page 9

Kissing him wouldn’t be a hardship. But it was wrong and unnecessary to the conversation at hand, she reminded herself. It felt as if she’d been drawn toward him, like he had some sort of magnetic power to pull her in. She tightened her grip on her cloak and took a step backward.

His mouth twisted into a smirk. “That’s wot I reckoned.”

That accent again. The words rumbled together, unhurried and gravelly, reverberating under her skin.

“Why would I kiss you?” She simply wanted a tiny peek into his world. Kissing had nothing to do with it.

“If you can’t even do that, how will you find the courage to go through with it?”

Courage? This was a test of her courage ?

Oh, she would not let him go on thinking she was a coward.

Growing up with two older sisters who had often seemed bent on overprotection, this was one point of contention for her.

She always had to prove her bravery when it was called into question.

Also, she sensed that he wouldn’t agree to her bargain unless she passed this ridiculous test.

She inched closer until she had eliminated almost all the space between them.

The heat from his body warmed her front and his scent wafted over her.

There was a faint hint of lemon mixed with the sweetness of tobacco and mint.

She had kissed a man before…well, Olek. They had both been sixteen and spent a summer half-convinced they were in love.

She raised up on her toes and lightly rested her palms against his chest to keep her balance.

He was solid muscle beneath her hands. This man was no boy.

A fact that intimidated her, but instead of letting it stop her, she charged ahead.

He didn’t budge as she leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his.

His lips were firmer than she’d thought, or perhaps he was simply very disappointed in her.

Kisses were supposed to be passionate, and this one was distinctly not.

It was probably because her lips were closed.

She parted them, tilting her head slightly to fit them to his, but he didn’t answer her movement in any way.

She wasn’t doing this right. What an inopportune time to have forgotten how to kiss.

His entire body had gone stiff, and she was in danger of sliding off, so she gripped his broad shoulders to keep herself in place.

When she pulled back briefly to catch her breath, his eyes were more hooded than usual and held the distinct air of disapproval.

Oh, God, he’d laugh at her later tonight when he was alone.

Determined to try again and prove that she could do it properly, she quickly put her mouth back on his.

One of his hands found the back of her head.

He meant to pull her away. She held his shoulders tighter and flattened herself against his chest. It was a stark reminder of her lack of a corset because her nipples responded to the friction and some light flicked on inside her.

It spilled heat that pooled low in her belly.

She gasped silently and her tongue found the seam of his lips.

He jerked away, but only slightly to give a breath of space between their mouths.

His palm cradled the back of her head and his fingers tightened in her hair.

His other hand roamed down her spine. There had never been a time when she wanted a kiss more.

She pressed her fingers into the unyielding muscle of his shoulders, silently urging him to continue.

With the same urgency she felt, he came back to her, turning his head a bit so their mouths fit together nicely.

This time his lips were soft as they moved over hers and she melted into him.

The textured slide of his tongue against hers created an electric friction that hummed its way through her veins and buzzed in her body.

All at once, she wasn’t kissing him. He was kissing her and she loved it.

His hand roamed farther down to settle on her bottom.

He squeezed and pulled her forward into his solid strength and that part of him that very clearly wanted her.

It was rigid and thick where it nudged against her stomach.

She ached to touch him, and that need drew her back to her senses.

“Stop,” she whispered, suddenly aware that they were in her bedroom right next to her bed. It frightened her that she didn’t actually want to stop what they were doing.

He didn’t let her go, but his grip on her head loosened and the one on her bottom eased up to her lower back. His mouth relinquished hers. They were both breathing heavily. “Change your mind?” he asked.

“No.” She shook her head and fought for breath. “You said a kiss. That was more than one.”

He chuckled and his hand slid from her hair, his fingertips tracing the side of her face as they slid down to toy with the edge of her cloak where it lay across her breasts. “You want far more than a kiss, though,” he whispered.

Was it that obvious? She was fairly certain she was already blushing, but she still noted the influx of heat to her face. “Regardless, I did as you asked.”

“You did.” He pushed an errant strand of hair off her face. “You’re a very good girl, Eliza.”

She shouldn’t like his praise as much as she did. It lit her up inside with radiant heat. “Shouldn’t we get going?” She took a step backward and he let her go.

“You’re right. I can’t bed you here.” He indicated the bed. “Not with your family near.”

Bed her? The nerve of him! “I did enjoy our kissing, I’ll admit that,” she said in a very firm whisper.

“However, we cannot do more. I hardly know you and if this…” She waved her free hand between them, her gaze catching on the impressive bulge in his trousers.

She swallowed audibly, surprised that the sight of it wasn’t as abhorrent as it should have been.

Two heartbeats passed before she dragged her gaze up to his.

“If this is a condition of our night, then I’m afraid I cannot agree. ”

“What the devil are you on about? This was the deal. A night with me. You wanted me to bed you, yes?”

She gasped. “ I did not want that . I wanted a night with you. A night out with you in London, the parts of it that no one thinks I should see. I meant the dance halls and the gambling parlors of Whitechapel or Covent Garden, not…not…not to be…bedded.”

He stared at her. “But you kissed me.”

“You made me kiss you.” She probably said that too loud. Taking her voice back down to a whisper, she said, “I thought it was an odd condition of the deal, a challenge of sorts to see if I’d pass.”

He laughed, one of his hands coming up to stifle the sound, and backed silently toward the door, putting much needed space between them. She was slightly too humiliated to find humor in the situation.

“What you want is out of the question,” he said when he finally stopped laughing.

“A night out in London is out of the question, but a night in my bed isn’t?”

He shrugged. “Yes. One can be done in private, and the other by its very nature must be public. We cannot be seen in public together because it would cause too much trouble for me, and you as well, I presume.”

That was true. “Fine. Not Covent Garden, then. Whitechapel. No one who knows me would go there. Even if I did run across some gentleman, I very much doubt he would notice me out of context.” She had met hundreds of people at balls and soirees in the past couple of months and hardly any of them more than once or twice.

The Dove name might be notorious but her face wasn’t.

Outside of the proper venue and a ball gown, she’d be virtually anonymous.

The likelihood of a gentleman identifying her was slim. It was a bet she was willing to make.

He was shaking his head before she had even finished the word. “No. It’s dangerous there.”

“There would be little danger to me with you at my side.”

“No, Miss Dove. It’s not something I’m willing to risk.” He had made it to the door and was on the verge of fleeing.

Desperation pushed her forward. “There isn’t a risk, though. Not really. Women go there all the time.”

He eyed her dubiously. “Women not of your class.”

“What do you know of my class? I’m not what you think, just as I’m beginning to suspect that you aren’t what I think. There’s more to you beneath that gruff exterior, Mr. Cavell.”

“It’s not going to happen. I will not take you out and I will not bed you, either. You’ve lost your chance.” She opened her mouth to retort that she’d never asked him to bed her, but he hurried on. “I’m leaving this room and we will not speak of this again.”

“I cannot agree to that.” She followed him toward the door. “If you want my silence—”

He rounded on her, his legs eating up the distance between them, and she closed her mouth abruptly.

His eyes were alight with aggravation that made her think she might have pushed him too far.

What did she really know about him? Though she did feel safe with him, there was no real reason that she should feel safe.

Coming to a stop not a foot away from her, he said, “I’ll think about it. The danger…the planning…it will take time.” His jaw firmed in resolve. “That’s the most I can offer you.”

She knew better than to push him further. “Thank you.”

He exhaled in what might have been relief. She almost felt sorry for him. He clearly had a secret to keep and it was important to him. He gave her a brisk nod and left. The bedroom door didn’t make so much as a thud when it closed behind him.