Page 36

Marcus had accused her of being drunk, and perhaps she was, but she knew it wasn’t the wine.

It was him. They were alone here in the warm night at last, and his big, strong body was so close, but not close enough.

Occasionally, the soft cloth of his evening coat brushed her skin.

She had goosebumps, but not from the cold – from the wanting.

On that memorable occasion, they’d kissed, and it had been wonderful, but since then, she’d been violently assaulted.

The last physical contact she’d had with him had been that terrible fall, when he’d saved her, and the brief, precious moments when he’d carried her in his arms afterwards.

They’d not been alone since the painfully intense occasion when he’d shared his secrets with her – they had barely seen each other except on those frustrating visits of ceremony he’d paid, when they had not spoken apart from commonplaces about her health, the weather…

It had seemed to her that he was avoiding her, and certainly there had been no chance for further closeness between them, or any exchange of confidences.

He said he wanted to kiss her, so perhaps he did desire her, lonely and frustrated as he must be, but it seemed he didn’t want any more than that.

If that was true, she must accept it. Soon, they would part forever.

She was tired of it all. Damn tired of it.

Everyone seemed determined to force them together – apart from the people who most emphatically wanted to keep them apart and possibly also wanted her dead.

It was more than fatiguing, being so subject to other people’s wishes and expectations, whether they meant her well or ill.

Marry him immediately – don’t marry him at all!

Go here, go there, do this, don’t do that!

It wasn’t her immediate family, Rafe and Sophie, Grand-mère and poor Charlie, but it seemed to be almost everyone else.

All she knew, and she knew it with certainty, was that she wanted to kiss Marcus again.

Lots of men had wanted to kiss her in the past, had wanted to put their hands on her body.

They’d been concerned about their own pleasure, never hers, and perhaps they’d also wanted to compromise her, trap her, steal away her fortune and her freedom.

She had not asked for their desire, nor done anything to encourage it.

She had fought them off; they’d been repulsive to her.

But she wanted to kiss Marcus, and he had said he wanted to kiss her, except that honour prevented him, or some such nonsense.

If that was all she could have from him…

‘I want to kiss you,’ she said now, rising to her feet. ‘I don’t care what anybody else in the world wants, apart from you. And I know I don’t like it when people try to touch me against my will, so in fairness, Major Marcus Thornfalcon, I should ask you, do you object if I kiss you?’

‘In fairness? And you won’t do it if I say yes, I object?’ His voice wasn’t steady. But then neither was hers.

‘I won’t. I am not like those awful people. I will not take advantage of you.’

‘God, I wish you would!’ he groaned in a sudden moment of piercing honesty.

She was standing between his legs now; it was the only way she could get close enough.

Though she was beginning to wonder what close enough could possibly be.

Closer than this, it seemed. His muscular thighs were parted, and enclosed her.

It seemed as though she could feel the warmth of his skin through the fabrics that separated them, though that might not be true.

Perhaps the heat was all hers. Silk slid over hot skin, and thin muslin, and over heavier fabric.

‘You want me to take advantage of you?’

‘You’ll have to. Because I won’t.’

She put her hands on his broad shoulders to steady herself – no, she put her hands on his shoulders because she wanted to.

It wasn’t, it turned out, the easiest position in which to kiss him, because his head was too low, his head was…

She snuggled in between his thighs and reached out for him, so that she could run her fingers lovingly through his silky hair.

He sighed then, and instead of kissing him, she pulled him close.

His head lay on her breast; his warm breath tickled her bare skin above the bodice of her gown.

She liked that. She could even feel his long eyelashes, tickling.

Someone’s heart was beating fast, though she wasn’t sure if it was his or hers.

Both, perhaps. Her senses had never been so heightened.

His arms came around her and cradled her; again, silk slid over muslin and skin.

‘You’re not kissing me,’ he said. His voice was a little muffled by her body, and his breath was warm on her flesh. She felt his lips move against her and shivered deliciously. Pressed herself closer, wanting more of this precious contact.

‘Well, I can’t easily reach. But this is good too, don’t you think? Especially if you keep talking.’

‘Why…?’

She was almost sure he knew why. He was teasing her. But she was reckless, had she not decided? So she would tell him. ‘I like the feel of your mouth against my skin.’

‘You do?’

He was teasing her. ‘Mmm.’

‘Well, so do I.’ She thought she could feel his lips curving in a smile. ‘What else do you like, my lady?’

‘Your hair is very soft. I remember noticing that, last time.’ She was still running her hands through it, still holding him deliciously close to her.

‘Just that?’

‘And your legs are… not very soft.’

He’d been gripping her hard between his thighs – perhaps he hadn’t realised, because his hold lessened instantly. ‘Too tight?’ he said.

‘ Not too tight,’ she corrected him. ‘Tighter, if anything. And I like your hands on me. But they don’t move.’ They were secure about her waist, which was pleasant, but she had an instinct that there was more they could be doing. A great deal more.

‘Believe me,’ he said with feeling, ‘they could move. I’m having a lot of trouble stopping them from moving.’

‘Don’t. Don’t have the trouble. We have troubles enough.’

He groaned, and his big, warm hands slipped down and cupped her buttocks.

They fitted very nicely there, it turned out.

Silk slid again, and muslin. Now she could be sure the growing heat wasn’t just hers, because his hands were burning through the flimsy fabrics.

But she liked it. He squeezed her gently, his thumbs moved on her, and she too moaned a little. Just a tiny sound in the night.

Her nipples were hard, and the thin material that covered her breasts chafed them. They felt heavy, aching, wanting. Could he feel her tight buds against his face, through the bodice of her gown and her chemise? His lips were so close…

He could feel her, she thought, because he pressed his cheek closer, rubbed his face against her, and she whimpered at the contact.

He said raggedly, ‘Oh, Amelia, perhaps you should fulfil your promise and kiss me now. It seems like the safest course. Because if you don’t…’

‘If I don’t…?’ She stroked his face, the side of it that wasn’t pressed against her, exploring the hard planes, enjoying the stubble of evening as it bristled against her palm and fingers.

His mouth pressed the soft flesh and she shivered; his tongue licked it, then his teeth nipped the pad of her thumb and made her gasp.

‘I fear I’ll either turn my head and fall on your breasts like a starving man given food, or pull up your skirts so that I can touch your skin. Your secret places. And surely either thing, Amelia, though wonderful, would be a mistake.’

She heard the wicked pout in her own voice. ‘You couldn’t do both? It seems to me as you describe it that you could easily do both at once.’

‘I could do all sorts of things I shouldn’t do. I’m touching you now, and I shouldn’t be.’

She said very low, suddenly ashamed and doubtful, ‘I know people demand things of you – your sister-in-law, and all those other women. I don’t want to be like that, but I fear I am.

They don’t care what you want, only what they want – it isn’t fair.

It’s no different at all to the way I’ve been treated.

I can see that now. I’m sorry. You don’t need to pretend you want me just to make me feel better. ’

He shook his head against her breast, and his silky hair caressed her. ‘You’re not like them, my dear. You couldn’t be. And good God, if you think I am pretending, you are fair and far off. If we’re really talking of my desires…’

‘Yes?’

‘Amelia, I want more than anything in the world to pull up your skirts and touch your beautiful bottom with no barrier between us. I want to pull down your gown and kiss your lovely breasts. I’ve said as much, but there is more.

I want to slip my fingers into the curls where your thighs meet and feel your wetness, and make you wetter – I want you to gasp and moan as I touch you.

I want to make you come, and cry out with the release of it, and know I did that.

I want to lick my fingers to taste you, and then I want to unbutton myself, here, and slide into you as you straddle me, and move with you until we both see stars.

That’s what I want. And yet more. A great deal more. ’

She was weak with desire, with the thought of all he’d named, and felt boneless, liquid almost, in his arms. If he had not held her so close, she might have fallen.

She was wet, as he had said, and needed his hands and his mouth on her skin, bringing her the sweet release that felt so tantalisingly close.

Needed him inside her, something she could only imagine, wanted to move with him, wanted see stars with him.

‘God, Marcus…’ she breathed.

‘But someone will open a door and come to fetch us soon, my dear,’ he said, his voice hoarse with the effort of control. ‘You know they will – their indulgence of a supposedly engaged couple will only go so far.’

Supposedly – the word, so true and so cruel, hit her like a bucketful of cold water.

‘If they find us like this, doing no more than this, we can spring apart. It will be obvious, I suppose, that we have been embracing, but we must imagine they expected something of that nature. One does not send a man and a woman out into the summer night together and think that they are discussing the latest fashion in bonnets.’ He was still holding her, and his breath still feathered the upper swell of her breast, his thumbs still stroked her bottom.

His thighs were still hard about her. ‘But if we go any further, there will be no coming back from it. And then you really will have to marry me.’

‘You’re right,’ she told him flatly.

He could hear the sudden alteration in her voice, she knew, because he let her go.