Page 94 of The Ladies Least Likely

“That would be the first time in your life you’ve been afraid of anything, I’m guessing.” He stroked a thumb along the side of her hand, the lightest gesture he could think of to show understanding, support.

“Oh, I fear many things.”

He was trapped in her eyes. Dusk descended outside, the room fading into shadow as they had not thought to light candles. But the light in her eyes was clear and strong. “What I fear most, I think, is never finding out how it would feel. To touch you. To have you touch me.”

An overpowering hope slammed him, a sudden turnaround of his despair. “Perhaps you ought to lay that fear to rest, then.”

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “You are not a dog I am to try patting on the head, to overcome my fear it might bite me.”

“I am exactly that.” His voice came as a low rumble. He felt her answering laugh inside his chest. “Try me and see.”

He stood still, waiting for her decision. He feared he might die if she couldn’t conquer her fear. I want you to touch me . He’d never heard sweeter words in his life.

Holding his gaze, her eyes dark pools, she raised his hand to her mouth and slowly slid his fingers over her lips.

Desire crashed through him. Her lips were cool as cream.

She pressed her cheek to his palm, then moved his hand to her throat, pressing the heel of his palm beneath her collarbone.

The fabric of the fichu tucked into her neckline fluttered beneath his fingers, and her breath grew fast. His own sounded ragged in his ears.

“All right?” she whispered, as if asking permission.

“Very much so.” His voice scratched his throat. Desire had him tight and hard, but he stood riveted as if he were one of the standing stones on the moors. Nothing could induce him to move and frighten her away.

She rose to her tiptoes and brought her cheek close to his, as he had done to her on other occasions.

The soft, warm breath against his ear stirred a nearly painful ache.

She slid her fingers into his hair beneath the leather strip that held his queue and her touch on his scalp made him groan with pleasure.

She pressed her lips to his cheek, dragging her mouth over the day’s stubble, and he squeezed his eyes shut to hold himself at bay. Her scent, her touch, her heat surrounded him. The sight of her hazy eyes and soft skin was too much for mortal man to bear.

The press of her mouth against his obliterated all thought.

The sheer joy that shot through him was like nothing he’d ever experienced.

As much as he wanted to lock his arms about her, devour her completely, he also wanted to stand here for the next eternity and simply enjoy the sensation of Amaranthe’s soft, shy kisses.

She tasted of strawberries and when she brought her palms to rest on his cheeks and hold his face still for her exploration, he thought his head might explode.

He moved his lips in return, answering her gentle foray, responding as delicately as he could.

Her lips pressed against his more firmly, her mouth shaping to his.

She twined her arms about his shoulders, pulling herself firmly against him, and the press of her soft breasts against his chest filled his mind with fog.

Thoughtlessly, he lifted a hand to the small of her back, urging her closer, and she snuggled in with a soft sigh that was his undoing.

When he opened his mouth against hers, the tip of her tongue ventured against his lips, tasting him, and his heroic restraint snapped.

With a groan of satisfaction, he dipped his arms about her slender back and hauled her onto his chest. Her head fell back, giving him the perfect angle to delve his tongue into her mouth, exploring, possessing.

She was every kind of sweetness. She matched his greed with a sweet earnestness that made him press her closer.

Her breath came in soft pants, and her hands slid from his face to his hair to his shoulders as if she wanted to touch him everywhere at once.

She burrowed against him, as if she couldn’t be close enough, and his hands wandered down her back, pressing, squeezing, curving her body into his.

He was sure he gripped a rump pad, there to fill out the back of her gown, and she reared back, her eyes flying wide.

He wanted to sip at her mouth for hours, but he wanted to taste her everywhere.

He kissed along the line of her jaw, nipping a tender earlobe, and she shivered with delight.

Her chest rose and fell in short pants as he nibbled and licked his way down her neck, flicking his tone into the dent between her collarbones.

The pulse there beat madly, answering the high tide that pulsed through him.

“ Mal .” Her whisper of delight spurred him on, a sense of triumph soaring through him as she yielded beneath his mouth, his hands.

He pulled the lace tucked into the neckline of her gown, sliding the delicate fabric across her skin, and relished her shudder at the sensation.

Her breath hitched as he bent his mouth to the bare skin left exposed, using lips and teeth and tongue to explore the warm, scented expanse.

She tasted of cream, richly sweet with a hint of salt, maddeningly delicious.

He canted her hips to slide her up his body, bringing more of that luscious skin within reach.

He dragged his mouth over the tops of her breasts, heady with the need to devour her, to discover as much as he could.

The stomacher pushed her breasts up firmly and he laved the soft, plump flesh with his tongue, reveling in her gasps.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she clung to him.

He would have to unpin her robe to go further, and Mal growled with frustration.

Like a starved man he pulled her hips against him, burrowing his aching arousal into the thick folds of her skirts.

At the same time he tugged with his teeth at the fabric of her neckline, growling with satisfaction when he exposed the top of one delicate nipple.

She froze, and her eyes popped open, dazed with passion and alarm. Mal lifted his head. Her arms stayed clasped tightly around him but her body went taut as a bow, and he didn’t know if it was from pleasure or shock.

Slowly he lowered her until her feet once again touched the ground, hissing as she slid against his body. He was no better than her rotter of a cousin, mindless to everything but his own passion.

“Too much.” With an effort he loosened his arms, forced himself to step away, hoping he didn’t fall over. His entire body was a wall of flame. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” She tugged her bodice into place, and he gritted his teeth at the loss of her warmth. “That was—just right.”

He couldn’t resist touching her lower lip, plum-colored with his kisses. “All the same, I’d best sleep on the floor tonight.”

“Don’t be daft.” Her voice was breathy, full of laughter and wonder. “We can roll up a blanket and divide the bed. Or put a sword between us, like Lancelot and Guinevere. I trust you.”

That confession moved him more than anything else she’d said or done. After he’d invited her to touch him, then lost his head and nearly ravished her on the spot, her simple declaration of trust gutted him completely.

“I didn’t ruin it, then.”

Her eyes held his, brimming with an expression he couldn’t decipher, but he saw the signs of a woman who had discovered passion and was not put off by either her body’s response or his.

“I’m not ruined,” she said softly.

He cupped his hands about her cheeks, flushed the red she used in her manuscripts. “You must marry me.”

That broke the reverie. A shadow fell across her face, and she lowered her eyes and stepped away. “I cannot.”

“I thought you didn’t care that I’m a bastard.” The old bitterness rose like bile in his throat, wiping away every trace of bliss.

“That’s not it at all.” She reached for her lace, still in his hand.

Like a beast, he held it out of her reach. “Your cousin, then? Or your brother. I thought he would approve.” His rage surprised him, frustrated desire making him snap like a fox at bay.

“My reasons are my own.” She snatched her lace and turned toward the door.

“So you can kiss me,” he said, his voice low but filled with savagery. “You can touch me, hold me, desire me…but you won’t wed me.”

“I’m sorry, Mal,” she whispered, and slipped out the door.

Mal felt like smashing his fist into the wall. She’d drawn away from him again, and he had no idea how to lure her back.