Kitabı oku: «A Scoundrel By Moonlight», sayfa 5

“And it breaks your heart.”

If only she could squeeze out a convincing tear. “I can’t help my feelings.”

He didn’t move closer. It just felt that way. “Do you really expect me to credit this balderdash?”

Her temper stirred. “You underestimate your effect on an impressionable girl.”

He snorted disbelief. “More balderdash.”

Damn him. A turbulent mix of desperation, anger and reckless bravado gripped her. Frantic hands grabbed the front of his shirt. “I’ll show you balderdash, my lord.”

She stretched up until her lips crashed into his.

Chapter 7

Leath stiffened—everywhere—under Miss Trim’s unexpected assault. He had to give her credit. She’d dare the devil. He hadn’t expected her to take this absurdity about her tendre for him to this length.

But then, he’d cornered her, hadn’t he?

Her lips were soft and endearingly clumsy. She kissed like a young girl. This might be another ruse to disarm him, but he didn’t think so. Even more unbelievable than her supposed infatuation, the glorious Miss Trim wasn’t much good at kissing.

Which turned out to be a damned lucky thing. As it was, he was hard as an iron bar. If she demonstrated an ounce of skill, his sanity would dissolve completely.

Because he was still marginally sane, he caught her shoulders. For a moment, he reveled in her slender strength. Then with more difficulty than he wanted to admit, he pushed her away.

She panted as her lips slid free. Throughout the brief, urgent kiss, she’d kept her mouth closed.

“What—” She looked dazed, as if he’d painted her world with rainbows. Imagine if he’d kissed her back, taught her what to do.

Except that he refused to kiss women he didn’t trust. And he most definitely didn’t trust this one. Although the shine in her eyes, firelit amber, might almost convince him that she really was smitten.

She licked her lips again, slowly, as if tasting him. He bit back a groan and drew her closer, when good sense dictated that he throw her out on her delectable rump. Solving the puzzle of her presence was impossible when the wicked urge to have his way with her jammed his brain. He wasn’t used to his head and his instincts being at odds. His head should be winning.

It wasn’t.

“I give you points for trying,” he said, the hint of savagery directed mostly at himself. Her flinch stabbed him with guilt, although heaven knew she’d asked for trouble.

“I’m sorry.” Her slender throat moved as she swallowed. “If you tell your mother I kissed you, she’ll let you dismiss me.”

He was surprised that his mother had mentioned his attempts to send Miss Trim away. “If she knows you came to my room, that’s enough,” he snapped and felt guilty again when she flushed with humiliation.

“So you’ll win.”

More easily than he’d expected. He wondered why he wasn’t happier. He should be dancing a jig, now that this conniving baggage had overreached herself. But his lips tingled from the pressure of hers. His head flooded with the lemon perfume of her soap, more familiar than it should be. Just the sound of her voice made him yearn.

He didn’t believe that she wanted him. But by God, he wanted her. Except she hadn’t claimed to want him, had she? She’d claimed a silly schoolgirl infatuation.

It would serve her right if he showed her what risks she took. Tossed her onto his bed and flung himself on top of her.

Except …

Except in her face, he saw secrets and mysteries. But he also saw innocence. Whatever else she was, she wasn’t experienced with men. That one awkward, incendiary kiss betrayed Miss Trim as a novice.

She played dangerous games.

He should send her away with orders to pack.

His hands tightened on her shoulders, holding her in place.

“Why don’t you tell me to go?” she asked wonderingly. For once, she sounded like a bewildered young girl, not the woman whose actions tormented him with questions and whose presence banished his sleep.

“You want to kiss me?”

“No,” she said quickly, then less certainly, “Yes.”

She struggled to keep up the pretense of girlish adoration. Except that after she’d kissed him, he’d caught arousal stirring in her eyes.

“Which is it?”

She bit her lip and before he could stop himself, he bent to kiss her, to stop her torturing that luscious mouth. Her shocked gasp was a whisper of warm breath on his face.

His hands slid around her back, holding her as a lover holds a woman he intends to kiss. Thoroughly.

Knowing he’d pay, knowing this was absolutely the last thing he should do, he brushed his lips across Miss Trim’s.

Nell still shook with reaction from her first kiss. The experience had left her confused and strangely frustrated. She wasn’t sure she’d enjoyed it, although it had been … interesting.

She hadn’t expected the heat and intimacy and sheer physicality of placing her lips on a man’s. His mouth had been firm and he hadn’t responded. Not that she was sure what she wanted him to do.

For a long moment, Leath watched her with an unreadable expression. His hands dug into her shoulders and she feared that he was about to shove her out the door. She was bizarrely reluctant to go. She braced for a summary ejection from his room, then tomorrow a summary ejection from Alloway Chase.

His hold softened in a way she couldn’t describe. She stared up at him, transfixed, afraid. No wonder poor silly Dorothy had fallen under his spell. He was the most compelling man she’d ever known.

Her skin tightened with anticipation. Slowly his lips skimmed across hers in a caress as different from her allout assault as satin from iron.

The kiss lasted no more than a second, yet flooded her with such longing that her knees buckled. She leaned back against the door.

He still looked uncompromising. His features were all hard planes: strong bones, jutting nose, adamantine jaw.

Yet his lips … His lips had been softer than a feather.

She snatched a jagged breath and struggled to speak, but before she could, he gave her another of those sweet kisses. Did he linger a little this time? Taste her as delicately as he’d sample a fine claret?

Her breath caught as he raised his head and regarded her with familiar concentration. To steady herself, she hooked her hands around his neck. “That was …”

Lovely? Wrong? Frightening? Beguiling?

Heaven help her. Heaven condemn her. She’d started this. Now she’d opened the gates to destruction on a level she’d never contemplated.

One thumb trailed down the line of her jaw, leaving a tingling wake. His lips quirked in a faint smile that set her heart cartwheeling. The huskiness in his voice stroked across her nerves like silk. The clean, male scent of his skin surrounded her, too familiar in a man who should be a stranger. “You’re not usually lost for words, Miss Trim.”

She’d never been kissed before. She’d always imagined that whoever the lucky fellow was, he’d use her Christian name. Still, something about the way his lordship said “Miss Trim” made her shiver with excitement. And God forgive her, lately when she’d imagined kisses, the man kissing her had been Lord Leath.

Nell felt as if she toppled over a cliff. She should flee, forsake her quest for vengeance, forget that however unacceptable the attraction, she found this man so appealing. She should scuttle back to Mearsall and her dear, kind stepfather, and her dull existence, and be grateful that dullness promised safety.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” she said shakily.

“You kissed me first.”

“Two wrongs don’t make a right.”

She wasn’t surprised when he laughed. Even she thought that she sounded absurd.

“You seem new to the activity. I merely offered an alternative technique.”

She thought she’d blushed before, but this critique set her cheeks on fire. “I don’t go around kissing random men, my lord. I refuse to apologize for my inexperience.”

“I’m glad.” He caught her loosely by the waist. She was overwhelmingly conscious of those large hands holding her.

“For my inexperience?”

“That you made an exception to your rule.”

“I suppose you’re used to women throwing themselves at you,” she mumbled, knowing she made a fool of herself. A man like Leath probably couldn’t step outside without tripping over eager young ladies wanting to kiss him. Wanting more.

The idea of him doing more to her sent Nell’s heart hurtling into her ribs.

He smiled. How she wished that he’d stop. That gentle curve of his beautifully cut lips set her pulses rocketing. “If only life was so exciting for a politically minded marquess.”

She wasn’t deceived. Even disregarding Dorothy’s story, she couldn’t see women ignoring his manifold attractions. He’d been angry when he’d discovered her in his room. She sensed no anger now. Just perpetual waiting.

She backed away and bumped hard into the door. “I must go.”

His hands tightened. “You freely entered the lion’s den, Miss Trim.”

“Stop calling me Miss Trim,” she said crossly, bracing her hands against his powerful chest. She told herself to push him away, but her disobedient fingers curved into hard muscle. He was so wonderfully warm. Beneath her right palm, his heart beat like a conqueror’s drum.

The kiss had been intimate. Feeling the life pounding through him felt more so. What a mistake she’d made coming here. Even if she left immediately, she and the marquess would never be strangers again.

“Would you rather I called you Eleanor?” he asked silkily.

Her eyes widened. “Only my father called me Eleanor. Everyone calls me Nell.”

“I rather like the idea of kissing Eleanor.”

“I rather like the idea of going back to my room.” She squeaked in horror. That sounded like a proposition. “Alone.”

“So no curiosity?”

She saw by his expression that the shake of her head lacked conviction. “I’m sorry I invaded your apartments.”

“I’m not.”

Shocked, she stared at him. “You’re not?”

“I have a lovely woman in my arms and no particular plans for the rest of the evening.”

Her stomach lurched in dismay. Dear Lord, at last she saw the seducer. And as he’d so rightly said, she’d put herself squarely in his sights. She shoved his chest. It was like trying to move a monolith. “No.”

“No?”

“Droit de seigneur went out of fashion with the farthingale.”

“So you don’t want to share my bed?”

“No.” Although her blood beat hard and hot at the thought of having that big beautiful body as her plaything for the night.

“Yet here you are.” The edge in his tone made her shiver.

“I … told you why.”

“Yes, you’re suffering a bad case of unrequited love.”

She pushed at his chest again. “Not love. Just infatuation.”

“Prove it.”

Her wriggling stopped and she regarded him aghast. “I’m not a doxy.” Bitterness seeped into her voice. “I don’t even know how to kiss, as you so ungallantly pointed out.”

His laugh this time held the characteristic grim note. Briefly when he’d kissed her, he’d looked like a gentler, younger, kinder man. Now the purpose in his expression made her quake with nerves. And unwilling excitement. She’d never stood so long in a man’s embrace. Next to Leath, she felt small and feminine. Powerless too, which should terrify her. After all, he threatened ruin, and there was nobody to save her.

“You’ll keep your chastity, although God knows you tempt fate.”

“I thought you were in the library,” she said stubbornly.

“No excuse.”

“So let me go.”

His smile wasn’t reassuring. “Not until you’ve learned how to kiss a man.”

She braced against him. “I think I’m better off not knowing.”

“I’m appalled that a woman so lovely is untouched.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Compliments won’t make me stay.”

“Perhaps not. But this might.”

He captured her lips in a quick, commanding kiss. Odd how much he could convey without words.

“You … you flatter yourself, my lord.”

“Do I? You’re still here.”

She gulped in air. She kept forgetting to breathe. Then when she did, Leath’s musky essence intoxicated her, making coherent thought impossible.

Another inhalation. Only to realize that he no longer held her. His beautiful hands hung loose and open at his sides, although his rough breathing indicated disquiet.

She raised her hands from his chest, loathing how his warmth lingered on her palms, and reached behind her for the doorknob. “You’ll stop me if I try to leave.”

Nell had a horrible feeling that she sounded like she wanted him to keep her here.

“Try it and see.”

Despite all the evil she knew of him, she had the strongest feeling that she could trust him with her life. Was she right? Or was she another stupid girl caught in a rake’s net?

“Just a kiss?” she whispered, hardly believing that she wasn’t already halfway back to her room. She wondered if he had any idea what potent effect his raw masculinity had on her frail willpower. “Can I trust you?”

The edge returned to his voice, although he didn’t move. “You’re the one who broke into my bedroom.”

Completely unjustified guilt surged. He was a bad man and she’d been doing the work of the righteous. But she couldn’t deny that she’d felt shabby breaching his inner sanctum. “One kiss and then I’ll go.”

“As you wish.”

“You agree?” she asked in shock.

“It’s time to move from negotiation to action, my dear Eleanor.” To prove he meant it, he drew her into his arms.

Chapter 8

Miss Trim’s—Eleanor’s—lips trembled against Leath’s. Touching her was so sweet that he almost forgot that he didn’t trust her. Not for a moment did he believe that she was smitten. On the other hand, he did, against all sense, believe that she’d never kissed a man before.

Where the devil had she been living? In a cave under a mountain? He always chose sophisticated, experienced lovers. But there was something breathtaking about setting his lips to Eleanor’s and knowing he was the first.

This girl possessed no worldly skills to augment his pleasure. Which didn’t mean there was no pleasure. There was far too much, damn it.

The proximity of his bed, the late hour, her tantalizing combination of shyness and eagerness. All conspired to erode his anger and suspicion, and remind him that she was beautiful and night after night he’d dreamed of touching her.

Gentleness won out as he tasted lips locked against him. A pang of inconvenient tenderness struck him as he recalled her kissing him as if battering him into submission. Now her resistance seeped away until she fit against him as though created to please him. He kissed the corners of her mouth, then nipped softly at her full bottom lip.

A muffled protest parted her lips.

It was enough.

The tip of his tongue invaded her mouth. Just that small incursion blasted him with enough heat to incinerate good intentions.

She jerked back, cinnamon eyes dark, troubled, heavy with desire. “That was … strange.”

He smiled and cradled her head between his hands. “You’ll come to like it.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am.” He beat back another wave of tenderness. When she stood willingly in his arms, trembling with the onslaught of new feelings and experiences, she undermined his every defense. Again he pressed his mouth to hers. His tongue traced the seam of her lips. “Open for me, Eleanor.”

Her eyes were glazed. “I—”

Leath swooped, sliding his tongue into the hot depths and tasting her fully. He closed his eyes, the better to savor every nuance. She was sweeter than cherries or peaches or apricots. Like honey, but with a tart edge.

She made a sound in her throat. Denial or encouragement? Then her tongue fluttered against his, and this time, her sigh betrayed enjoyment. Her hands kneaded his loose shirt like a kitten sharpening its claws.

How long did he stand beside the fire kissing Miss Trim? He didn’t know. Eventually, inevitably, kissing wasn’t enough. His lips drifted across her face and down her neck. When he concentrated on a nerve at the junction of neck and shoulder, she cried out. Her fresh scent became richer, earthier.

He aroused her. God knew, she aroused him. His hand shook when he raised it to the line of buttons descending from her demure collar. He fumbled at the fastenings—he, who hadn’t fumbled with a woman’s clothing since he’d left Cambridge.

Her face flushed with pleasure. Her eyes were closed and her glistening mouth parted as she awaited more kisses. She leaned into him as though her legs couldn’t support her. He wasn’t feeling too stable himself. His blood pounded hot and heavy, the need to touch her skin an insistent hum in his ears. Her breath emerged in ragged sighs and her strong, graceful hands curved around his shoulders.

The gray dress gaped. He felt like a traveler venturing into an unexplored land. How he’d fantasized about stripping away her nun-like clothing.

He bent to kiss her collarbone, lingered on the pulse fluttering at the base of her throat. Sliding one hand under her shift, he cupped her breast. The weight of her flesh in his palm crashed through him like a hurricane.

She gasped and stiffened. “This is wrong.”

“Yes,” he agreed. He might be a fool; he’d never been a liar.

“You promised … kissing only,” she said unsteadily, although without withdrawing.

“Then let me kiss you again.”

Her lips quivered with uncertainty until with a sigh, she succumbed to the heat. Her beaded nipple scraped his palm. When he flicked it with his thumb, she started and gasped into his mouth. She pressed forward, silently begging for more.

Her reaction excited him. Urgently he pushed her undergarments down to bare one breast to the firelight. Seeing that satiny white flesh crowned with deep pink made him shake with need. The sight was somehow more arousing because plain white linen covered her other breast. He felt as though he unwrapped the most wonderful present in history.

Unable to stop himself, he bent to take that pearled nipple into his mouth. She gave a soft cry and squeezed closer. He drew harder, curling his tongue. Then, when she panted and squirmed and dug her hands deep into his hair, he gently bit her. Another start of shock.

Dear God, she was so responsive. He couldn’t remember a lover so attuned to pleasure.

Her swollen, parted lips beckoned him. He kissed her again, glorying in her quick, hot answer, even as he hoisted her high in his arms and carried her to the huge bed that he’d never shared with a woman.

When he came down over her, her legs parted to cradle him. He pressed into her mound, letting her feel his weight and size.

She wriggled and made a choked sound, but he was too far gone to pay attention. One unsteady hand stretched down to raise her skirts. He burned to touch her sex.

She made another strangled sound against his lips and caught his hand as it reached her thigh. Vaguely through raging tumult, he sensed that her body wasn’t as loose and welcoming as it had been.

Wits dull with arousal, he raised his head. “Eleanor?”

His heart sank. She looked tense and afraid and unhappy. His hand stilled at her hip, although he couldn’t bring himself to retreat.

“Stop,” she said in a thick voice. “Please stop.”

For a searing instant, he wanted to argue, persuade, seduce. She was so close to surrender. And he’d craved this joining from the first moment he’d seen her.

He grappled with the beast inside him. The beast fought back.

Gritting his teeth, he stared down at her and reminded himself that he was a man of honor.

“Of course.” The concession nearly killed him.

She was right to protest. Heaven forgive him, he’d forgotten where he was. He’d forgotten every reason not to do this. Aside from his suspicions about her, she worked for him. A gentleman didn’t harass the servants. From his earliest years, that tenet had been drilled into him.

Dear Lord, just imagine the scandal if London discovered that he’d retired to the country to lead a respectable life and immediately turned to swiving the maids. His political career would never recover. Even if, poised above Eleanor, his political career seemed sublimely unimportant compared to the throbbing weight in his balls.

Worse, he verged on becoming a liar. After promising to stop at kisses, he’d been close to taking her. And she was a virgin. Her uncertainty at every step she took toward ruin confirmed that.

He should be horsewhipped.

“Hell,” he muttered and rolled away to sit on the edge of the bed. Burying his head in his hands, he sucked in shuddering breath after breath. He didn’t dare glance at her. If he did, all good intentions would fly out the window and Miss Eleanor Trim would be a virgin no more.

And the Marquess of Leath would prove himself a cad of the first degree.

Prickling silences had become familiar. This particular silence drew blood. The fire crackled in the grate. Somewhere outside a fox barked on its nightly hunt.

“I’m sorry,” she said dully from behind him after what felt like an hour, although reviving common sense insisted that it couldn’t be nearly that long.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He wished he sounded kinder, but he still struggled for control.

“I shouldn’t have let you do that.”

That made him turn. Her gaze was fixed on the gold and blue embroidery on the tester above the bed. She was back to looking like a marble carving. He felt a powerful nostalgia for the beautiful, rosy creature who had kissed him as if she’d die if she stopped.

She hadn’t buttoned her bodice, although she’d tugged her shift over her breast. The thin linen did little to hide the voluptuous fullness or the pearled nipple. He squashed down a tide of lust as he recalled touching that perfect breast, kissing it. At his sides, his hands tightened into fists.

“Don’t be a fool,” he said more roughly than was justified. However right she’d been to stop him, desire swirled in his blood. He was honest enough to admit that if she hadn’t spoken, he’d now be lying between her thighs discovering paradise.

Her lips tightened, but she didn’t look at him. “That’s the problem. I was a fool.”

“It was foolish to wander into a man’s room in the middle of the night,” he said harshly.

He didn’t think she had any more color to lose, but she turned even more ashen. “I’ve learned my lesson.”

“I shouldn’t have touched you.”

“No.” She paused, then spoke with searing bitterness. “I must go and pack my belongings.”

“You shouldn’t take the blame.”

At last she turned her head in his direction. Shame clouded her amber eyes. “You’re a marquess. I’m a nobody.”

He winced, denial twisting his gut. “Please tell me you didn’t feel compelled to kiss me because you work for me.”

“No, kissing you was all my own stupidity,” she said flatly.

He drew a relieved breath. “If it’s any consolation, I’ve wanted to kiss you since that first night when you mowed me down like a runaway carriage.”

He didn’t know why he extended this torture of having her close without being able to touch her. He should send her away with a promise never to bother her again. Except that looking at her gave him such pleasure, however awkward this moment. His caresses had loosened the severe coiffure. Her chignon sagged onto her nape and curls of blond hair teased her forehead and cheeks in a damnably enchanting way.

When her gaze widened, the beauty of her eyes struck him anew. “Well, why didn’t you?”

His laugh was dismissive. “I had no right.”

He’d had no right to kiss her tonight either, even if she’d kissed him first. He returned his brooding gaze to the fire.

“You’re the master here,” she said listlessly.

“That’s precisely why a gentleman doesn’t pester the servants.”

“Many do.”

“And lose the right to call themselves gentlemen. It’s unconscionable to take advantage of a woman who relies on my goodwill for her livelihood.”

Silence descended again. Strangely, this time it felt considerably less charged. Eventually curiosity won out over self-loathing and he turned to her. Instead of the contempt or fear or anger that he expected, she looked baffled. “What is it?”

“You’re a strange man, my lord.”

He frowned. “Because I’ve got some glimmer of a conscience?”

“Yes.”

His lips lengthened with displeasure. “Nice that you have such a favorable opinion of me.”

“Why should you care what a mere servant thinks?” She sat and began to button her dress. Her fingers were deft, but the pink in her cheeks indicated that his presence while she performed this intimate action disturbed her. She wasn’t the only one disturbed.

He sighed with impatience. “You know, my lovely, it doesn’t work. It didn’t work when I first met you, and it’s even less effective now.”

He knew she wasn’t trying to look seductive, but her sideways glance under those heavy lashes got him all hot and bothered again. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“Your pretense at humility. You’re too remarkable, my beguiling Miss Trim, to fade into the wainscoting.”

His praise didn’t please her. “But I am a mere servant.”

His laugh held genuine amusement. When he’d rolled off her, he’d felt like the lowest worm in creation, but this odd conversation restored his spirits. “You’re not a mere anything, Eleanor.”

Her eyes darkened in a way that did nothing to cool his simmering blood. “You shouldn’t call me that.”

“No, I shouldn’t,” he admitted ruefully, even as he wanted her to call him James. But that was a step too far, however ludicrous that seemed when he knew how she tasted and the precise raspberry shade of her nipples. “I’ve had my hand down your dress. Calling you Miss Trim seems a little silly.”

Blushing, she shot him a resentful look. “I’d like you to forget that.”

“For my peace of mind, it would be better if I did,” he said wearily. Except he’d never forget it. That exquisite moment when he’d cupped her and heard her gasp with delight would haunt him forever.

“Can I go?” she asked.

“Can I stop you?”

“You did before.”

Yes, when he’d been desperate to learn why she’d intruded into his room. After that, he’d been desperate to kiss her. He wasn’t a man familiar with desperation. Until the mysterious Eleanor Trim entered his life.

She was dangerous. And not just because he couldn’t trust her as far as he could throw her. He still didn’t know why she’d turned up tonight. She left him so befuddled, he hardly cared anymore. He sighed heavily. “Yes, you can go.”

“Thank you, sir.”

She abandoned him to a restless night. Damn it. Leath returned his attention to the fire, muffling the traitorous wish to be a different man, with different responsibilities. A free man without the weight of family expectations riding on his shoulders. A man who wasn’t quite so nice about his honor.

He’d grab Miss Trim and kiss her into conceding. Then he’d make sure they both enjoyed a restless night. Twined together like ivy.

He’d expected her to rush away, but she left the bed slowly, almost reluctantly. Did she want to prolong his torment? If so, she succeeded mightily. He didn’t trust himself to look at her. If he did, she wouldn’t be going anywhere.

He heard her pad across to the door and he waited to hear the click as she left. When the silence extended, he braced himself to turn.

She stood across the room, rumpled, beautiful, alluring. Wide brown eyes studied him as if he presented an unanswerable question. He should find consolation in knowing that he wasn’t alone in his confusion.

“My lord …” She rested her hand on the doorknob as if preparing for a quick escape. He couldn’t blame her, given what had happened last time she’d tried to leave.

“My lord,” she repeated softly, “I didn’t kiss you because I work for you. I kissed you because … I’ve wondered too.”

What the devil?

“Eleanor?” Before he’d decided to stand, he was on his feet. He surged forward, although even now, he recognized that he couldn’t tumble her and call himself a man of principle.

That miracle of a mouth, the mouth that tasted like heaven, curved into a wry smile. “Good night, sir.”

She bobbed a brief curtsy, then fled before he caught her.