He pulled her into the first open parlor, closed the door behind them, and claimed her mouth in a kiss.
The umbrella fell to the floor.
His hands were about her waist. Her fingers twined in his hair. They banged against the wainscoting, their bodies pressed together, Miss Thorne’s spine against the wall, and Julian’s chest and hips and thighs flush against her softness.
Her mouth was as hungry as his, her hands just as seeking. He had thought he had the position of power in pinning her against the wall, but in doing so he had blocked off access to half of her body. His was the one exposed to her fingers gliding over his shoulders, his upper arms, his back. Despite the many layers covering his flesh, he felt her touch all the way to the hot skin beneath.
He did not want to share her. Could not.Wouldnot.
“While...thisis happening between us,” he said between kisses, “your mouth is not to be engaged in this activity with anyone else. Understand? If this causes you a loss in income, tell me the number, and I will double it.”
She pulled back from his kiss with a bemused expression. “The king of one-night trysts with masked strangers is asking for mutual monogamy?”
He glared at her.
“Oh, notmutual. Just me, whilst you carry on as usual.” She wrinkled her nose. “I decline.”
His tone hardened. “What did you say?”
“I said, no thank you.” She lifted a shoulder. “Either we both kiss whomever we want, or we exclusively kiss each other.”
The person he wantedwasher. Both choices were the same thing.
“I’ll triple your earnings,” he said. “Quadruple.”
“Use the money to clean out your ears,” she suggested. “Either we’re equal, or we’re nothing.”
“Fine,” he ground out. “We are both bound by the same rules. No liaisons of any sort with anyone else, until I say we’re done.”
“Unless I say it first.” She smiled up at him cheerfully. “Mutual monogamy it is, then.”
“Stop saying that word!”
She opened her mouth—likely to argue with him—and he caught her lips with his own to silence her.
Yes, yes, it was mutual monogamy. An agreement he had never contemplated entering until such time as he’d chosen a wife. That he should do so with Miss Thorne...
It meant nothing. He was a meticulous tactician, and this was the most efficient way to achieve his aim of being the only man in Miss Thorne’s life... For now.
Once he found the perfect bride, he would have to let her go.
Chapter 15
Unity didn’t just kiss him back. She gripped the hard muscle of the Duke of Lambley’s upper arms and held on tight. He kissed her as though he were a long-lost sailor, reuniting with his true love again after endless years at sea.
Instead, Unity was the drowned rat.
Wind had turned her umbrella inside-out days ago, and she hadn’t had time to shop for a new one. The rain had tripled her hair’s already impressive natural volume, and turned the jaunty feathers of her bonnet into limp, wet bits of confetti littering her black curls.
The section of gown sticking out from beneath her pelisse was drenched with equal parts drizzle and puddle.
And Lambley—seemed not to notice any of it. He looked at her as though she were the leading lady, starring in the most celebrated opera of the century. He touched her as though she were beautiful, not bedraggled.
As for him... Had there ever been a man more fine?
She’d taken him by surprise. The masquerade wasn’t for hours. Yet he was groomed as though the Queen herself might stop by at any moment to have a cup of tea. His coat fit him to perfection. His cravat was a work of art. And his soft brown hair... was rakishly rumpled, thanks to Unity’s fingers sliding through it to bring his lips closer to hers.
When at last he released her from his arms, there was nowhere else she wished to be. But the expression on his handsome face was so mischievous, she was immediately on her guard.
