Page 29

Chapter Nineteen

K itty perched on the sofa and waited expectantly for Zeke to clarify exactly how they could make a a more convincing couple for his brother and the viscount.

“We’ll spend more time together. Doing…things.” Zeke's voice had gone low and smoky.

Still holding her slippers, he crouched before her.

“Such as?” She swallowed, her eyes tracking his every move.

Without warning, he slipped his hands beneath her skirts to grasp one of her feet.

She gasped, partly from shock, and partly from the unexpected thrill of feeling his warm hands cupping her arch.

His palm skimmed upward, encircling her ankle. He squeezed gently, then slid his other hand below her foot to cup her heel. He drew the pad of his thumb over the length of her arch in a delicious sweep.

“Oh,” she uttered helplessly as the tickling sensation rippled through her. “Zeke,” she breathed, trying to pull free of his grasp. “I hardly think—”

“Hush,” he whispered. “I’m making sure you didn’t twist anything when you slipped.” His words made perfect sense, but the heat she glimpsed in his eyes told a different story.

She didn’t trust herself to speak, so she merely nodded.

He bent his head to his task, and his golden hair fell over his brow. He began his exploration anew, as if her interruption had caused him to lose his place.

She almost groaned from the sheer pleasure of his strong hands massaging her feet. She’d never been touched in such an intimate way, and regardless of Zeke’s stated reason for doing so, she knew she shouldn’t permit it now. Odd, delicious things were happening to her insides.

“Where was I?” he asked. Evidently finished with the one foot, he set it gently on the carpet, and reached for the other.

“Pardon?” She fought the urge to close her eyes and sink back onto the cushions.

“Ah, yes. You asked me what things we should do.”

Through her lashes she saw his lips curve in a lazy smile as his hands stroked and squeezed.

"Yes." Her limbs felt as solid as warm jelly.

“We should undoubtedly make a habit of riding together. Perhaps each morning after breakfast. During certain entertainments, we’ll team up. And…hmm.”

Kitty’s breath froze as one of his hands reached her calf, the path of his palm leaving a trail of fire. She bit her lip, unable to speak.

His brows knitted in apparent concentration. His palm moved higher, almost to her knee.

Dizzying heat spiraled through her. She should do something. Stop him. “Zeke?”

“Yes?” he whispered, his eyes at half-mast.

“I don’t think this is at all proper.”

Removing his hands from beneath her skirts, he dropped onto his knees before her.

He cradled her head between his hot palms and leaned forward, his hard, muscled thighs pressing into her shins.

“We are engaged to be married, are we not? We’re permitted a small amount of latitude.

” His gaze fixed on her mouth, his eyes glittering with a hunger that stole her breath.

“But we’re not,” she argued without any heat. “Not really.”

His gaze had not strayed.

Her lips parted of their own accord, a silent demand for his kiss.

“Finally, we’re getting somewhere.” His fingertips skimmed over the curve of one ear, then danced feather light across her cheek. “How are we to convince anyone if you don’t believe yourself?”

She closed her eyes and nibbled at her lower lip.

She heard his soft laugh, then felt his hair tickle her nose as he dipped his head, bringing his mouth to hover over hers.

“For the next several months,” he said, brushing his lips over hers, “you must believe yourself engaged to me. Can you do that, Kitty?”

The best she could do was nod as a desperate hunger tore at her insides.

“Please,” she heard herself whisper, a moment before his lips sealed over hers in a hot, drugging kiss.Kitty grasped his hard, broad shoulders and held on for dear life.

Combustible heat flooded her veins, burning her from the inside out.

She tugged, urging him closer. Maddeningly, he refused to budge. She wanted his body touching hers, everywhere, and she never wanted him to stop kissing her.

When the tip of his tongue played at the corners of her mouth, her lips parted in a gasp of pleasure.

“That’s it. Let me taste you, sweetheart,” Zeke murmured. When his mouth covered hers again, his tongue slid past her lips.

Tentatively, she touched the tip of her tongue to his.

Delight surged through her as, instantly, his arms banded around her.

Braver now, she traced her tongue over the soft inside of his full lower lip.

His hands coursed over her back, her waist, her nape, the sides of her face, as if he were as desperate to touch and feel all of her as she was desperate for him to do so. Tiny tremors vibrated through him.

She wanted to purr in awe as she recognized her own womanly power over this confusing, seductive, enigmatic lion of a man.

Her arms twined around his neck, her greedy fingers slipping into his thick mane of hair. She kneaded like a kitten, loving the feel of the silken gold.

“Kitty,” Zeke gasped against her lips, and pressed her back into the sofa cushions.

The weight of him felt so good. Still, he wasn’t close enough. She whimpered with a nameless need and arched into him.

He hissed in a breath, and loosed an agonized groan. A moment later his lips left hers, leaving her dazed and oddly desolate.

His face pressed into the curve of her neck like a hot stone, his body heaving with ragged, labored breaths.

“Zeke?” she whispered.

He didn’t respond immediately, and Kitty wondered if he’d heard. Then she felt the scrape of his stubble against the underside of her jaw as he smiled. Though his heart pounded into her chest like a base drum, he pressed a light kiss against the abraded skin and asked in an amused tone, “Yes?”

“Was Garrick watching from the hallway again?”

His shoulders began to tremble, then his entire body shook. A moment later, he pushed himself off of her to balance on his knees. He threw his head back and bellowed with laughter. “Oh, Kitty,” he breathed when his mirth finally subsided. “Was that a serious question?”

She glared up at him from her reclined position on the sofa. “The last time you kissed me, you told me you’d done so to impress Garrick and—”

He shushed her holding one finger to her lips. “No. To my knowledge, we had no audience.”

He unfolded from his kneeling position to sit beside her on the sofa. He reached out to smooth the damp tendrils at her temples, an indulgent smile curving his lips.

“Then why?”

His smile grew cocksure. “Why did I kiss you?”

She nodded in growing impatience and dragged herself to a proper sitting position.

He shrugged. “It suited me to do so.”

His words cut her to the core. But what had she expected? A declaration of love?

Her cheeks burned and the backs of her eyes stung. Oh, no. She would not humiliate herself by crying in front of him. She hinged forward and searched at her feet for her slippers.

“You horrible man,” she bit out as she jammed her feet into the slips of satin and sprang from the sofa. She launched herself toward the library door, still choking on outrage. “You perfectly odious—”

“Kitty,” Zeke said, his voice the only warning she had that he’d closed in on her before his large hand grasped her elbow, halting her mid-stride.

“Let go of me,” she said through her teeth.

“Kitty. Look at me.”

She glared at him over her shoulder.

“That came out badly. You misunderstood what I meant. I only—”

“I understood perfectly. Now understand this. I never want you to do that”—she waggled her fingers toward the vacated sofa—“ever, again. Do you hear me?”

A boyish grin spread over his damnably handsome face. “I hear you, but I’m afraid I can’t promise to comply. I liked it way too much. As did you.”

She swiveled to faced him. She drew her hand back, prepared to slap the smile off his lips.

Zeke caught her wrist before her palm got anywhere near his face. Adding insult to injury, he laughed. “I can see you’re upset, Kitty. Let’s table this discussion ’til tomorrow.”

She huffed and jerked her arm free. “This discussion is over now.”

She marched past the threshold, then spun to glower at him. “I’ll tell the earl. I’ll…” She frowned realizing the flaw in her plan. The earl wouldn’t want Zeke to stay away from her. He’d force him to marry her.

Zeke rubbed his chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You know, I think you should tell him.”

She shook her head in frustrated disbelief. Zeke knew very well the earl would demand they wed, probably by special license. He’d entrap himself to outwit her? Just like a man. Evidently none of them had any sense till they reached the age of her late grandfather or the earl.

“This is lunacy,” she said, throwing her arms up.

His eyes narrowed on her face. At least he no longer appeared quite so delighted with himself. “Go to bed, Kitty,” he said softly. “We will talk in the morning.”

***

Zeke stood in the doorway, listening to the receding pitter-pat of Kitty’s footsteps. Amazing how she could scream vexed with nothing more than the sound of her feet on the stone floor.

He wished he could read his own emotions so easily. Wished he could understand what in hell had come over him, not only tonight, but since he met Kitty.

From the beginning, the infusion of Kitty into his life had heralded inexplicable results. Like tonight, when she glided into the parlor looking like a princess, or sea nymph, or whatever you called someone so damned beautiful she stole your breath.

The minute he laid eyes on her he’d wanted to scoop her into his arms, carry her to the first available bedchamber and devour her. That reaction he could almost understand.

But what of the almost palpable anger that followed? He hadn’t known where to direct it. At Kitty, who’d waltzed in showing more skin than Randall or Caden or any man ought to see, or at his brother and friend for fawning over her? Wasn’t that grand? He’d never been jealous in his life.

He covered the lower half of his face with both hands and prowled the dimly lit room. Anything to alleviate this restless, simmering energy. This feeling of losing himself, who he was. All because of one tenacious, audacious, irresistible wench.

He stopped in front of the oriel window. Leaned his over-heated forehead against the cool glass. No woman should have so much influence over a man. Should make him crave her. Her laughter. Her spirit. Her attention. Her body, for Christ’s sake.

Witness his father. His ever-smiling, quicksilver father, who had lost his will to live, his ability to care for anyone or anything, when Zeke’s mother had the bad grace to die.

He didn’t want to want Kitty like he did, and he refused to confuse want with need. He did not need her. It was that simple.

He pushed away from the glass. The heavy atlas on the side table caught his eye.

She’d held onto the thing and had barely made a sound, brave little idiot, as she’d tumbled to the earth. He smiled, thinking how easily he’d caught her. He hadn’t wanted to let her go.

He approached the seating area where he’d taken her. The darkest, most private corner of the large room.

He dropped onto the sofa, his head lolling over the backrest.

Maybe he was looking at this all wrong. He liked Kitty. What was so wrong with that? He wasn’t spouting poetry. Wasn’t promising undying love. Far from it. He’d barely even told her he found her attractive. Clearly he didn’t worship her like his father had done his mother.

So he thought about her when she wasn’t around. Who wouldn’t, given the circumstances? The threat James posed, this phony engagement, not to mention the shared living arrangements.

If he was being honest, he had to admit he liked her, as well.

More than once he found himself glued to her every word.

Found himself enthralled with the woman who, unlike him, had overcome the handicap of seemingly uncaring parents.

A woman who’d risked everything to stand by her grandfather, and who never doubted her own ability to rise above whatever circumstance life threw at her.

But none of this—not the danger, not the pretense, nor even liking her—explained his physical hunger for her. He wanted her. Wanted to grab her and drag her down and pour himself into her. His fingers dug into the velvet sofa cushions as need ate a hole through his insides.

It only made it worse she hungered for him equally. She might not like it, beyond a shadow of doubt didn’t understand it, but the truth was there in her response to him. In the way she clung to him, opened for him, inviting him to touch and taste and…God, he was rock hard again.

Groaning, he tunneled his fingers through his hair. He ought to feel bad about his behavior tonight. He’d behaved without scruple. Again. He'd taken advantage of her innocence, of her desire for him.

But the truth was, he felt good. Better than he had in days, aside from the hunger gnawing at his loins.

What now? What was he to do about Kitty?

He flung himself lengthwise onto the cushions, his legs hanging over the front of the sofa.

For a long minute he lay there, staring at the plastered ceiling.

Then the answer came to him and he couldn’t stop the grin spreading over his face.

Because the answer was as obvious as it was simple.

By God, the answer had fallen right into his hands—literally. He stood up, scooped the heavy tome off the table, and marched from the room, whistling.