He drew back with a muffled curse and pressed his lips to her cheek in a chaste kiss. His heart pounded beneath her curled fingers and the hard ridge of his desire pressed into her thigh.Her skin prickled with sensation where he had touched her, and his taste lingered in her mouth.
“That was nice… Leo,” she whispered.
Using his name felt so intimate, but it seemed fitting after what they had shared.
He nudged a strand of wet hair out of her face. “So, I am ‘Leo,’ at last?”
She flicked her tongue across her lips. “Yes.”
He cupped her cheeks in his hands and squeezed. “As much as I would love to continue this moment, the storm has stopped. We should get back before they come looking for us.”
*
Saffron stumbled outof the sheeting rain through the large doors of the manor, held open by footmen, and shrugged off her purloined cloak. It fell with a wetthudonto the marble floor, splattering the marble tiles with a brownish-gray liquid.
Everything around her screamed opulence, from the grand, marble staircase carpeted in a rich crimson to the gilded-gold frames of portraits hanging high on the walls.
Despite her fears, they had not encountered a soul on the road, nor had any guests arrived before them. She felt both amazed, and somewhat guilty, by her fortune. It was as if the moment in the cottage had been a dream.
“My servants are very discreet,” the viscount murmured, coming to stand beside her. “No one will ever know. Your honor will remain intact.”
If only that were true. Honorable women did not throw themselves into the arms of rakes, no matter how gorgeous they were. But she was relieved that her lapse in judgement would not reflect poorly on her family.
A heavy blanket dropped onto her shoulders, and she looked up to see Leo’s hands falling away.
“Thank you.” She pulled the blanket tighter around her. Her eyes trailed down his silk shirt, plastered to his body. He had rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, exposing his bulging forearms, covered in a fine layer of golden hair. She had the sudden urge to reach out and stroke him like a cat. She could still feel his lips on hers, his tongue swirling around her mouth. His firm hands kneading her breast, cupping her rear.
This spark of attraction is a distraction. Nothing more.
She would not abandon her quest to find Basil. Not when she was so close. Somewhere among the guests attending the auction was the painter who had captured her brother’s likeness. When she found Ravenmore, she would demand to know where he had met her brother. She couldn’t be more than a week behind him, given the date on the painting. Things would go back to normal after she’d chased him down.
“Are you even listening to me? Not now, man!”
Saffron jerked her head around to see Leo struggling with a fluffy, pink towel that someone, probably his butler, had draped over his head.
“That’s a good look for you,” she said, laughing.
Then she remembered the sound of the carriage wheel cracking, Angelica and Rosemary screaming. How long had it been since she’d left them at the side of the road? It had gotten colder by the minute, and the rain had fallen from the sky in endless buckets.
What if it’s too late?
She would never forgive herself if something happened to them.
Leo was still arguing with his butler, their voices rising in volume. The only other person in the room was a young footman with sandy-blond hair.
She charged toward him, filled with a renewed sense of urgency. “Have any other guests arrived? A young woman with golden hair, and an older woman?”
The boy gaped at her as if she’d turned into a dragon and breathed fire. “N-No, madam.”
She followed his gaze to Leo, who was approaching them, having divested himself of the offending towel.
“Get the coachman,” he said to the servant. “Make sure he sends a carriage to the riverside.”
The boy scuttled off through the open front doors and into the rain. A footman in identical livery entered from the adjoining room and pushed the door closed, then took up a position against the wall.
She returned her eyes to Leo, who had his arms crossed. She fidgeted. He had the look of a man waiting for an answer, but she couldn’t remember if he had asked a question. “What did you say?”
A muscle worked in his jaw. “You should have stayed with your aunt and sister. A storm is no place for a lady.”
