Page 5 of The Marquess Match (Love’s a Game #3)

CHAPTER FIVE

C lare watched Ashford Drake carefully from beneath her lashes, her pulse thrumming in her ears. She was playing with fire, and she knew it. But she didn’t give a damn.

When would an opportunity like this ever present itself again?

For years, she had been hidden away in her late father’s country house, a ghost of her former self. The ton gossiped about her unmercifully while she remained locked behind gilded bars. Her father had died when she was a girl, so at least he hadn’t lived to witness his only child’s disgrace. And her mother saw to it that she never forgot it. Few outings. No social calls. Just one pitying trip to London each year for shopping, where she was reminded—always reminded—that she no longer belonged.

But this — this was freedom.

Meredith’s country house party was the one event in all these years that her mother had begrudgingly allowed her to attend, and Clare wasn’t about to squander the only real chance she had.

Because she had told Ash the truth.

She wanted this.

She wanted to erase the memory of the Earl of Marsden’s kisses from her mind forever.

That bastard had ruined her. And she had walked willingly into his trap, mistaking charm for affection, mistaking her own desperation for love. She had no one to blame but herself—and she knew it. She had long since made peace with her actions, had taken responsibility for her choices, but it didn’t erase the regret.

Regret that she would never get to kiss a man again, let alone find love, marry, give birth to children. Of course, Marsden had suffered much less than she had. He’d left town briefly, gone to the Continent. Stayed away for about six whole months. What a sacrifice!

Then he’d returned to pick up right where he’d left off. He courted another young woman, married her, and proceeded to have half a dozen children. Of course, to this day, he was still known for his indiscretions and his poor wife was pitied behind closed doors, but the man himself had paid no real penance. It was unfair at best, nearly criminal at worse.

And the thing Clare most detested was that the one memory she had of making love was with a selfish, careless bastard who had taught her nothing and taken everything.

She refused to accept that. She wanted a new fate.

She wanted a new kiss. A real kiss. A good one, administered by a man who knew precisely what he was about. And this time, it would be from a man worthy of kissing.

Trentham scratched the back of his neck, his brow furrowed. “I’m not certain?—”

“Please don’t tell me you’re not certain that it’s a good idea,” she interrupted, quite businesslike. “Of course, it’s not a good idea. But neither is meeting down here in the middle of the night and drinking brandy we have not been offered.” She cocked her head, a teasing smile playing at her lips. “Besides, I didn’t think you were one for valuing good ideas at all times. Was I mistaken?”

Ash’s eyes flared slightly at that, and she knew she had struck a nerve.

Because he loved being the ton ’s most scandalous lord. He reveled in it.

He was the man who flouted convention, the man who publicly swore off marriage just to spite his dead father. He was reckless, unpredictable, and wholly unconcerned with what anyone thought.

So why was he hesitating now?

“You want me to kiss you?” he asked, his voice low, his gaze assessing. There was something in his expression she recognized.

Interest.

Dare she hope…lust?

“Yes,” she said simply, nodding. She needed to treat this with no emotion whatsoever. Emotion would only scare off a man like Ash. She didn’t want to force him into marriage. On the contrary, she only wanted one simple kiss.

His lips twitched. “And what if it doesn’t meet your standards?”

Her brows shot up. “You and I both know you’re far too confident to allow that to happen.”

That made him laugh, slow and rich, and damn him, but he was even more handsome when he smiled. The dark hair. The gray eyes. The mouth that looked like it was made for sin. Hell, his profile alone made her knees weak.

“Flattering me now?” he mused.

She shrugged one shoulder. Hmm . So he was clever enough to see through that? “If it will get me what I want.”

He bit his lip. A sign of hesitation?

She decided to push.

“Just one kiss,” she murmured. “That’s all I ask.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “You’re my sister’s closest friend.”

She arched a brow. “What does that have to do with anything?”

He put his hands on his hips, exhaled, then laughed, staring down at the rug. “Nothing, I suppose. I just had to say it out loud.”

She splayed her free hand wide, still committed to convincing him. “I’m not expecting you to ask me to dance in a ballroom full of people. I’m only asking you to kiss me once, here, where only the two of us will know.” She gave him a coy smile. “If it helps, I’m sure Meredith would approve.”

That made him pause. His head lifted, and he narrowed his gaze at her. “Would she?”

“Oh, certainly.” She gave an exaggerated shrug. “She already knows what a rubbish kisser Marsden was. I told her.”

Ash barked a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m actually thinking about doing this,” he breathed.

“Good,” she blurted as a thrill shot through her.

Then he moved.

A single step brought him closer, and before she could react, he plucked the snifter from her hand, setting it aside on the desk.

Her breath hitched.

Then—slowly, deliberately—he curled his hands beneath her elbows, his touch firm but gentle.

Her heart thundered.

He was so close now. Close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body, close enough that she could smell the faint trace of brandy on his breath.

He leaned down, his voice a husky whisper against her ear.

“Do you want me to kiss you,” he murmured, “or do you want to kiss me ?”

Clare’s hands shook. She hadn’t expected to be this successful quite so quickly. She met his gaze, her pulse fluttering like a trapped bird. “Is there a difference?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

“Oh, yes,” he said, his lips curving into a roughish grin. “Quite a large one.”

She swallowed. “Which one will be more pleasurable?”

The smile that crossed his face was devastating . “That depends.”

He reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair from her temple, his fingers grazing her skin. She shuddered.

“Kiss me,” she breathed.

And before she could even draw another breath, he had gathered her hair in one hand, tugging her head back—not painfully, but firmly—and then his mouth was on hers.

And dear God, he could kiss .

The first brush of his lips was slow, testing, coaxing—but then he deepened it, tilting her head back farther as he licked into her mouth, hot and sure and utterly consuming.

Her hands fisted in the fabric of his waistcoat, desperate for purchase as he took control. As he ruined her for any other kiss that might follow.

When his lips left hers, she barely had time to catch her breath before she felt the warm press of his mouth against her neck.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders. “Ash?—”

He made a sound deep in his throat, half growl, half something else, as his lips brushed the delicate skin just beneath her jaw.

A shiver ran down her spine.

His hand slid to her waist, his fingers spreading over her hip, gripping her just enough to make her burn.

And oh God, she wanted more.

When he finally pulled away, she was breathless.

“Well?” he murmured, his forehead resting against hers, his breathing slightly labored. “Did that erase Marsden’s kiss from your memory?”

She grinned, wicked and triumphant. “What kiss with Marsden?”

Then, before he could respond, she gathered her skirts and turned toward the door. “Thank you,” she said.

“Wait,” he called, frowning.

She paused, her hand on the latch, glancing back. “What?”

Ash hesitated, looking as if he didn’t quite know what he was about to say.

Then, finally—quietly—he asked, “Why me?”

Clare blinked.

He swallowed, his voice softer now. “Why did you ask me to kiss you?”

A long sigh left her lips, her shoulders rising and falling. Then she let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “I suppose now would be the time to confess that I’ve been infatuated with you for absolute ages.” She winked. “Thank you for making my dreams come true.”

Then she was gone.

And Ash, still standing there, could only stare after her, wondering what the hell had just happened.