“If you truly wish to forgo the formal ceremony, I can have a special license in hand by tomorrow. Of course, if you wish to be married from the chapel at The Willows…”
“I keep picturing my family glowering in the pews and my father interfering and Helen making all of these elaborate plans I do not wish.” She scrabbled for her glass, took a deep drink of her brandy and coughed. Finally, she nodded. “Marrying now would put an end to it, would it not?”
“If you are certain, I will see to the arrangements in the morning,” he said.
Perhaps some men would feel insulted that she wanted to get the wedding over with, but that would only hasten bedding his bride.
Then it would be too late to change course.
Too late for Neville Freyne or any other man to interfere.
A surge of possessiveness such as he’d never known jolted through him. He closed what little space was between them so the back of her head brushed his chest. He could see both of their reflections in the mirror, his dark, saturnine face, hers a fine porcelain touched with peach. A pulse fluttered wildly at the base of her throat. Unable to resist, he reached over her shoulder to touch that fragile hollow, trailing his finger down. He slipped his hand beneath the lacy neckline of her nightgown, exploring the warm secrets that were hidden beneath the cloth. The wing of her collar bone, the topmost curves of her breasts. He felt her heart race as he edged his hand lower but she didn’t pull away.
“Pink,” he said softly as he traced a circle on the velvety skin.
Her gaze locked with his in the mirror, breathless and confused. “What?”
“Now that I think on it, pink is my favorite color. Ever since our encounter with the cake.”
He could feel her shiver in awareness. “Now you are teasing me,” she managed to say. “If we were still at dancing lessons, I would step on your toe.”
He leaned closer to press his cheek against hers—faint stubble brushing smooth silk. “I am quite serious. I keeppicturing pink icing against your skin. Indeed, I am hungering for it, and I never particularly liked sweets before.”
Silence filled the room, then he spoke, his voice low. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since we met in the kitchens that night. I could not forget the taste of you when I kissed you…” His thumb brushed over her nipple, and he felt it pearl as if eager for his mouth. “I wondered what it would be like to sample every inch of you.”
Her throat convulsed. “I—I wondered, too.”
The confession surprised him. The fact that she wanted to explore what lay between them was the headiest aphrodisiac.
He drew her to her feet and turned her to face him, the desire flooding his body burning into something hotter than he’d ever felt.
“Imagination is no match for the reality, sweet,” he promised. He’d seduced his share of women, but this was different. Deeper. Dangerous as diving into black waters with fathomless depths. He felt off balance, so unlike himself.
But she washis.
Some primitive drive made him need to wipe any memory of Freyne away. Taking hold of the satin ribbon tie of her nightgown, he pulled it slowly through the loops, laying the delicate fabric open to her waist.
He slid one side off of her shoulder, and it caught in the crook of her elbow, draping there, baring one perfect breast. He cupped that lush swell, and it was even sweeter than he’d imagined, the nipple puckering, berry pink, as he teased it with his fingers.
Grace moaned and arched into his hand, her body warm, her skin fragrant from her bath, smelling of jasmine…
He slipped the nightgown off of her other shoulder. She met his gaze, and slowly let her arms fall to her sides so that thesleeves slipped down, past her elbows, her wrists, then slid free. A cloud of cloth drifted to pool around her bare feet.
God, she was beautiful. Her skin glowed, pale gold with candlelight, her areoles ripe for tasting. He wanted to curve his hands around her waist, slide his palms down the flare of hips to where the dark curls beckoned at the apex of her thighs. His cock strained against his trousers. “I want you,” he said, his voice passion-rough. She blushed, and he half expected her to pull away with maidenly shyness.
But her fingers went to the fastenings of his shirt and for a moment, Lucien couldn’t breathe. She’d unbuttoned the placket before tending his wound, but this was far different. She concentrated so hard, catching her plump lower lip between her teeth as she spread the shirt open, exploring his chest by touch, lightly stirring the dusting of dark hair, the flat disc of his nipple. She traced his scar, all but healed. Her tenderness undid him.
He kissed her, coaxing her lips apart, his tongue sweeping inside. She twined her arms around him, her fingers threading through his hair at his nape, her mouth opening to him, as eager as he was. Impulsively, Lucien swept her off of her feet, feeling her naked side against his own bared chest, skin to skin. The need to bury himself inside her beat a wild rhythm in his veins.
Why wait? Why shouldn’t he carry her to the bed? Make damn sure he drove thoughts of any other man out of her head, out of her heart…He could lose himself in her. Draw from her the responses he wanted…noneeded…He needed to taste every inch of her, suckle her breasts, explore her sex, lose himself in her—body and soul…
He stilled, with something akin to alarm. No. He couldn’tneedanyone, lose his iron grip on control. Any weakness was a weapon to be used against him. And this woman…she could have the power to make him lower his shield, if he let her in…
Lucien broke the kiss, drew back so that he could stare down into Grace’s desire-hazed eyes. He forced emotional distance between them, willing her soft, beckoning warmth away from him, closing the dangerous gate deep inside him that had begun to slip open. When had it happened? During the time she’d cared for his wound? When she’d had the courage to propose marriage to him? When she’d looked to him for help with those ragged children? Or afterwards, when she’d gazed up at him with gratitude that warmed him to the cold center where his heart should have been?
He lay her gently on the bed, but remained standing beside it. His whole body clamored to join her.
“I have disturbed you long enough,” he said with a coolness he didn’t feel.
