Page 21

T en minutes later, Diana had her ear pressed to the door of Lord and Lady Morsley’s study. Harrington hovered just above her.

On the other side, Marcus and Aunt Griselda were arguing in German.

It turned out that years ago, when Marcus managed to wrest her from their father’s grip, Aunt Griselda had been appointed her legal guardian as Marcus had been just thirteen years old.

Had her overbearing brother recalled this fact, he would have had it changed years ago. But it had slipped his mind, and here they were.

“What are they saying?” Harrington whispered.

Diana listened for a beat. “He explained that you are being sent on a secret mission, and that it is our true motivation to marry.” Not really .

But she would ignore that for now. Harrington was skittish enough about their proposed arrangement as it was.

She pressed her ear to the door. “She is not deterred.”

Her brother began shouting, and Diana pulled back, wincing. “He says, er…”

“I understood that word,” Harrington said brightly. He made a faux scandalized face as Marcus uttered an impressive string of profanity. “And most of that, too. While I was in Hanover, I had some of the officers of the King’s German Legion teach me a little German.”

Diana pursed her lips. “And the first words they taught you were curses and oaths?”

He shrugged, his expression one of faux innocence.

“They say you should start with your most frequently used vocabulary. I’ve actually been studying French for the past three years, ever since I joined the army.

And I started learning Spanish last Christmas.

” He leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “All countries I hope to invade someday.”

Diana couldn’t help but grin. This was another reason she wanted to marry Harrington—he could make her laugh even in the tensest situation. “Let’s hear your French, then.”

He swept her with a lascivious look. “ Seriez-vous, par hasard, apparenté à Giuseppe Bussandri, le chef de la rébellion dans la région italienne de Piacenza? Parce que vous êtes à l’origine d’un soulèvement au sud .”

Diana elbowed him in the ribs, but she was laughing. “Your French is both excellent and completely atrocious.”

He bowed. “Thank you. That was precisely my aim.”

Raised voices came once more from behind the door. “Fine!” Marcus snapped. “But mark my words, I will never forgive you if Diana comes to grief as a result of this folly!”

Hearing the thump of his boots against the carpet, she grabbed Harrington’s arm. “Hurry! He’s coming!”

They scurried down the corridor. As soon as they came to a door, Diana yanked it open, and they slipped inside.

It proved to be some kind of closet, apparently used by the household staff. Some rags hung from a pegboard on the wall, and a mop and broom leaned against the corner. The room was dominated by a large wooden crate, leaving no room for them to stand.

Harrington climbed atop the crate, seizing Diana by the waist. Without thinking, she scrambled into his lap, then pulled the door closed behind her.

She held her breath as the door to the study opened. The muffled sounds of Marcus’s boots against the carpet grew louder, but she could scarcely hear them over the pounding of her own heart. Neither of them moved as her brother passed by the door and proceeded down the corridor.

The danger having passed, Diana slowly became aware of her position.

She was still sitting on Harrington’s lap.

Only a bare sliver of light entered the cramped room from a slit at the bottom of the door, but the darkness made her exquisitely conscious of everything she could feel.

His hands, big and warm about her waist. His breath, sweet and tart from the lemonade they’d shared earlier, stirring the hair at her temple.

His thighs, hard as iron, beneath her legs.

And… oh, gracious… his thighs weren’t the only thing that had hardened.

She could feel a telltale bulge pressing against the outside of her thigh.

She knew precisely what that was, ironically, from perusing Harrington’s own book of erotic prints.

Her heart was tripping over itself, and her limbs felt heavy.

Some mad impulse had her reaching for his face.

She felt a jolt go through her as her curious fingers found the stubble of his jaw.

It was so different from her own delicate skin, rough and smooth at the same time. It was fascinating. Masculine .

“Diana,” he breathed.

In the dark, she could not have said if she was the one to lean forward, or if it was him. Most probably it was both. But suddenly, they were kissing.

Diana had never kissed a man before. Frankly, she had never met a man she wanted to kiss.

This was not to say that any number of fortune-hunting fools had not attempted to compromise her.

But the few who were not deterred by her icy glare quickly learned that she was not the sort of girl to flutter and fret and fly into a panic.

No, she was the sort of girl to calmly stab a man in the thigh with her diamond-encrusted hairpin if he grew too free with his hands.

But she had no desire to make Harrington stop. His lips were surprisingly soft, a dizzying contrast with the hard lines of his jaw. Even this gentle contact had her pulse tripping over itself and her body trembling.

Then, he slid his hands up her spine and pressed her body against his chest. He groaned at the contact, and she was glad to know she wasn’t the only one who was so affected. His hands continued their leisurely journey north, then his fingers threaded into her hair.

Gently, he tilted her head, positioning her where he wanted her. Then, his tongue traced the seam of her lips, and she opened for him on a gasp.

So, this was what the fuss was all about, this dizzying, delicious pleasure. Diana had no idea what she was doing, but it felt natural to tangle her tongue with his, so she did. Harrington responded with a groan, so she took it she wasn’t doing too badly.

It wasn’t merely the pleasure of his mouth on hers.

His hands, so big and strong, were touching her with an intoxicating combination of eagerness and reverence, as if he had dreamed of this moment for years and could not believe his dream was actually coming true.

He traced her jawline and the column of her neck, then took a moment to appreciate the sweep of her collarbone.

His fingertips inched lower but then paused, as if he were unsure if he should continue.

Diana answered his unspoken question, stretching up and pressing her breast into his palm.

He moaned as if in agony and brought his other hand up so he could cradle both of her breasts.

Her bosom was not what you would call ample but based on the thundering of his pulse beneath her fingertips, he did not seem displeased by what he had found.

He wasn’t the only one who was curious. Up until this point, Diana had been clinging to his neck, but she allowed her left hand to drift across the width of his shoulders.

Gracious—Harrington had always tended to be more lean than hulking.

But there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him, and she could feel well-defined muscles even through the thick wool of his coat.

She traced her fingertips down his chest and felt his stomach turn to iron. She couldn’t deny that she was exquisitely curious about the bulge pressing insistently against her thigh.

Harrington tore his mouth from hers, his breath coming in pants. “Diana,” he gasped. “ Please .”

She inched her hand lower, and lower still, until her fingers were just on the edge of that fascinating bulge. She summoned her courage, and?—

Light flooded the closet as someone wrenched the door open. “What the hell are you two doing?” Marcus snapped, grabbing Diana by the arm and pulling her off Harrington’s lap and out into the corridor.

She yanked her arm free. “Nothing you and Ceci didn’t do prior to your wedding, I daresay.”

Marcus opened his mouth to argue, then seemed to recall that he didn’t have a leg to stand on. Diana should know—her bedroom was just down the hall from Marcus’s, and he and Ceci had not been particularly quiet about it.

Having nothing he could say in his defense, he directed his glower toward Harrington. “Stand up.”

Harrington cast a significant look down at his own lap. “I’d recommend giving it a minute or two. Some things a man doesn’t wish to see from the fellow who’s about to marry his sister.”

Marcus ran a hand across his face. “This is one of the worst days of my life. Fine . Meet me in Lord Morsley’s study in three minutes.” He turned his attention on Diana. “You are coming with me.”

Diana expected a lecture. But Marcus was silent as he marched her to a parlor at the front of the house and left her in the care of Lady Cheltenham and the rest of the Astley clan. At least they were excited about her impending wedding.