“Losing you,” he whispered and dipped his head.
She met him eagerly, surrendering to an overpowering, incandescent kiss that lit her from the inside out. Excitement swept through her, strange and unfamiliar. His breath came short when he lifted his head, but so did hers.
“Your eyes,” she said foolishly, drowning in his gaze. “They change color when you are?—”
“Aroused by strong emotion?” He ran a slow, heavy hand from her shoulder to her hip. Molten heat splashed through her belly.
“Angry,” she managed to say, “but also?—”
“Desire, Henry,” he purred. “And you feel it too.” He brushed a thumb over her collarbone, cupping her breast with his hand. She whimpered as another wave of heat splashed in her belly. He kissed her deeply and thoroughly, pulling her so she lay half across his body, and she moaned and moved closer.
He tore his mouth from hers and clamped strong hands to her hips so she couldn’t move further. “Henry,” he choked. “Will you believe now that Iwantto marry you?”
She was beginning to hate the name less. Coming as a hoarse whisper, with his face inflamed with passion, it seemed an endearment, a declaration.
“I thought you did not despoil virgins,” she said, sliding off his body.
His slow, delighted smile melted every part of her that wasn’t already pudding. He anchored an arm about her to hold her close. “And so I shall not. We will marry in proper fashion, you shall pledge to be buxom at bed and board, and we shall have a wedding night and a honeymoon away from all the world.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I see now the appeal of these time-honored traditions.”
“No doubt, as they traditionally benefit the male.” She pushed off the bed. “You needs must dress for dinner.”
Her legs wobbled as she stood. She was ruined in truth, spoiled for any other man. No other would bring leaping to life in her what she felt for Darien Bales.
He had felt this, though. Many, many times before. Men did. They were permitted their passions—encouraged, actually—while women, who were not supposed to harbor passions, paid a high price.
His hot hand roamed up her side, staking a claim already. “I would have waited had I knownyouwere coming to me, Henry,” he said softly. It was as though he read her thoughts. “But I didn’t know.”
She turned away, reaching for the fresh bandage. “Mary Wollstonecraft does not approve of marrying for love alone.”
“What possible reason could she give for such lunacy?” His hand fell away.
“She says love should not dethrone superior powers. And fondness is a poor substitute for friendship.”
His brows snapped together. “Is Miss Wollstonecraft married?”
“She is not. But she says that caresses cannot satisfy a noble mind that longs for respect.” He held silent as she began wrapping his shoulder. “I feel in very distinguished company, you know. The women whom Lord Daring has ruined. A duke’s daughter, then me. All this effort merely to spite your father.”
He flinched. “That was never the plan. Never.”
“Oh, your plan was to use Marsibel to gain influence with Sir Pelton? But I kept getting in the way, didn’t I.” Henrietta tucked in the ends of the bandage.
“Sad to say, your friend Perry has planted the rumor, and people like Miss Pennyroyal believe it. Regardless of what the gossips say, you have achieved your aim—my uncle is in yourdebt. There is no reason to carry on the charade, Darien. Havering will talk to his father, Freddy will influence his, and Lady Mama will speak to the Earl of Warrefield. You will have lords enough to stand against your father’s suit. You need not antagonize him by pretending you mean to throw away your name and legacy on a mill owner’s daughter.”
His hand closed over hers as she picked up his shirt. “Why can you not believe I wish to marry you?”
Because the very notion was inconceivable. She might prove the curiosity of a moment, but she was not of his world. A Henrietta Wardley-Hines had nothing to offer a Lord Darien Bales, son of a marquess.
“A Long Meg and an antidote, with questionable political beliefs? You ought to fear I would sully the family name, especially now.”
A muscle flickered along his jaw. “Pitt won’t dare look cross at you if you’re betrothed to me.”
Henrietta concentrated on tying the strings of his shirt. That was true. The prime minister would not antagonize a powerful lord. She would not be accused of treason or transported. She would not sink her family, stain the Wardley name. She would step into the ranks of the nobility, have the protection of the Bales name, and gain a husband who?—
As she reached for his waistcoat, Darien lifted his hand and deliberately placed it on her hip. Her mind blanked as liquid warmth washed through her.
He smiled, his eyes heavy lidded. “I want you, Henry,” he said, watching her face. “And you want me. I think those grounds enough for marriage.”
He knew the weakness she felt at his touch, the desire to press as close to his body as possible. And she saw he would use his advantage. He was not the same breed as Lord Pinochle,true. But he was a man all the same, lured by the pleasures of the flesh.
