She released the smallest of laughs.
Abruptly stepping away from her completely, he cautiously leaned forward and glanced down the hallway before ducking back inside and cupping her chin in his palm. “I’ll go first in case any wandering and errant guests need to be shepherded out of your path.”
Like a border collie guiding sheep. She suspected he’d be quite good at it, and she didn’t want to consider how often he might have performed this service to protect the reputation of other women with whom he’d engaged in a clandestine assignation. Yet neither could she tamp down the small thrill that she could add this daring encounter to her list of adventures she’d never expected to experience.
He released his hold on her, moved to the statue, stopped, and glanced back. “I’m glad I’m not the one you disappointed tonight.”
Then he was gone.
Chapter 8
He didn’t know how many kisses he might have experienced in his lifetime. They offered harmless release. They didn’t beget any children, although they often led to the action that caused the begetting of children. Still, if a man was able to control his urges, they provided a modicum of safety.
Except hers didn’t feel at all safe.
Especially in that tiny, shallow alcove where her body had been forced to squash up against his in order to fit within the restricting confines. He’d wanted to trail his lips from her mouth to those enticing swells that offered temptation just above her bodice, to move the cloth out of the way and suck on her nipples. He’d yearned to reach down, drag up her skirts, and skim his fingers over her foot that had so fascinated him, and then explore the silky skin of her calf, the back of her knee, her satiny thigh. Although in truth, he wasn’t certain he could have stopped there. Her soft sighs were a siren’s song beckoning him into dangerous waters.
But what she and he were doing had been a continuation of what they’d begun at the Elysium and her request there had been for only a kiss on the mouth.Therefore, he’d restrained himself and taken merely what she’d been offering.
When he’d left her, he’d ensured her path to the ballroom was clear before he’d taken his leave from the ball. He’d been unable to force himself to remain, because something inside him balked at the notion of watching her dance with additional men. He couldn’t recall ever experiencing jealousy before. However, he was relatively certain that this haunting feeling wasn’t that. He barely knew her and certainly hadn’t had enough time to develop any affection for her. Yet he couldn’t seem to shake off the odd sensation that her lush mouth belonged to him.
Which was probably the reason that he used his fist rather than the knocker to bang on the door he’d finally reached. Or perhaps he was simply irritated with the rain that somehow slashed at him sideways, making an umbrella of little use.
The door finally opened. The butler gave a quick nod of acquiescence and stepped back, giving Rook room to slip into the foyer. “My lord.”
“Is Mr. Trewlove about?” He’d already checked at both of Aiden’s clubs and discovered his brother was at neither.
“Yes, sir. In the library. If you’ll be so good as to follow—”
“I know where it is. I’ll escort myself.” After dragging off his coat, which had managed to protect most of him from the pelting raindrops, he handed it and his hat to the servant. He wasn’t of a mind to follow the stately butler who would no doubt move at a snail’s pace. He wasn’t quite certain what sort of mood he was in, but he did know it required liquor.
His steps were long and brisk. He entered the library to find Aiden sitting behind his desk. He glanced up. “He’s dead,” he uttered without emotion.
“No. Our father still breathes.” Or at least as far as he knew he did. “I was in need of a drink and wondered if you’d like to accompany me to the Mermaid and Unicorn. My carriage awaits.”
“In this downpour?” Aiden got up and moved toward a sideboard. “I’ve some excellent scotch here that should suffice. You appear to have been battling the rain. Get yourself to the fire.”
Rook sat on the edge of a plush chair, giving the flames the opportunity to dry what the rain had soaked—the lower portion of his trouser legs. When Aiden offered him the tumbler, he lifted it in a quick salute before swallowing a good portion of it, welcoming the heat that burned straight down to the marrow of his bones. The rain had chilled him. He waited until Aiden had settled into the chair across from him before stating, “You weren’t at the Wolfford ball.”
His brother shrugged. “Because many of the gents and ladies of the upper crust frequent my establishments, I tend to make them uncomfortable at their merrymakings. Thus, with rare exception, I limit my appearances to those affairs hosted by family.”
“Your wife”—daughter of an earl, widow of a duke—“doesn’t mind missing out on the revelry?”
Aiden grinned roguishly. “The revelry I offer her in the bedchamber more than makes up for it.”
Rook didn’t know why Aiden always made his sexual innuendoes. Coming here was probably a mistake because he suddenly had a vision of making revelry with Miss Garrison. A quick change in topic was warranted. He nodded toward the desk. “Why don’t you hire a man of business to see to your affairs?”
“Because I don’t want anyone else knowing exactly how many coins fill my coffers to overflowing. Vice can be extremely lucrative, but I prefer the details to remain between me and the devil.” His brother’s grin faded away. “So what’s troubling you?”
“Nothing.” He lifted his glass. “I merely wanted some good scotch.”
“As though you don’t have good scotch in your residence. I’d wager there is more to your coming here than that, and I never lose a wager.”
Rook took a smaller sampling of the amber liquid. “The woman you had me kiss... she’s moving about in our circle.”
“Our?You mean yours, the nobility?”
“What other circle do you imagine I inhabit?”
