Then again, who was she jesting?
She was already fully his. She had been, since she’d first laid eyes on him at Almack’s.
“I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted. “Not justthis, but…be married. Married to someone I barely know.” And hopelessly, unrequitedly loved. “But…”
“But what?” he encouraged.
“But Iwantto know you.”
Her confession surprised them both.
“I want to know you, too.”
Craning her neck, she raised herself onto her toes and leaned in. She’d intended, for the first time, to voluntarily kiss him, not the other way around. But, as their mouths met, again he took control. He advanced, with expert use of lips and tongue until her knees went weak. Soon, she was pressed back into the crook of his arm, soft, surrendered, and fully dependent on him to stand.
He broke the kiss to gaze down at her through low-lidded eyes.
“I must be mad,” she whispered.
If she were sane, she would be daunted, or, at the very least, tense. She was so small in his arms, and he loomed so large…almost as large as he loomed in her mind and in her frequent, far too vivid dreams. But the heartbeat fluttering rapidly against her ribs was not beating in fear. Nor did she feel caged. This time, she was secure.
This time, she was desired.
And, yes, she was certain his desire was specific to her.
His taut cheeks, his dilated eyes betrayed his complete absorption, leaving no room for thoughts of anyone else. For once, she was sure he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
Yes, she was already lost. Yes, she was at his mercy.
And, if she had her way, he’d never forget this night.
Chapter Ten
The cords inthe back of Harbury’s neck ached with long-held tension, though less so now that his wife had threaded her fingers into his hair. She ruffled and teased his curls, unaware, he suspected, of the sensations she aroused and of how those sensations placed him entirely in her power. Beneath her fingers he became pliant, moldable—a drastic change from just a few moments ago, when he’d needed to summon an untold amount of willpower.
If I pressed right here hard and long enough, you would faint.
His Cassandra, hissweetCassandra, had boldly, intentionally threatened to strangle him.
His mind had recognized her challenge as a test, but his body had seized on the danger. For one, mad moment, he thought she would succumb to the wrong kind of temptation, wrap her hands around his neck and squeeze the consciousness from his body.
How heavy her small hands had felt. His swallow had increased the pressure of her thumbs, and he’d become aware of his lifeblood throbbing. She could have, with the slightest pressure, readily restricted, restrained his access to air.
He suppressed a shiver.
Then, instead of hurting him, she’d done the opposite. She’d confessed her ignorance, her desire, and then—sweet angels in heaven—she’d lifted herself onto her toes to kiss him. Her kiss had been so gently and willingly offered, the merest touch of her lips had awoken in him something possessive, something animal.
She whispered about madness of her own, spurring him to reclaim her mouth with unthrottled, fierce desire. Her knees gave way, but his clasp was tight enough to prevent a fall.
Now, each subtle sign of her surrender heightened his focus. And, judging by the dreamy way she continued to caress his hair, passion had rendered her not only compliant, but eager. She clung to him in a way that made him feel as if he’d caught a gift dropped from the heavens.
He had, he realized.
If he had plucked some other lady from the Almack’s crowd that fateful night—her sister Eliza, for instance—everything could have gone badly. Right now, however, he regretted nothing. Cassie felt as if she were made for him, not just physically, but in spirit.
He cradled her neck as he wrapped her even closer to his heart.
Could this be the first time he’d ever truly held his wife?
