Page 25 of Make Mine a Marquess

“Landon. I know. There’s Willard.”

“Yes, I—”

“But he’s not here now, is he?”

No, he wasn’t. And she shouldn’t be thinking about Landon’s lips. Or the maddeningly tempting divot in his chin. He was giving her an out, a chance to mount her horse and ride far, far away.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he lowered his head and his lips brushed hers. Heat swirled in her belly like a firestorm. His lips appeared sculpted, but they were whisper-soft and gentle. He didn’t touch her with anything but his mouth. She could back away, make a run for her horse.

Instead, the earth spun, and she stumbled forward. Strong arms encircled her, and she stood on tiptoe and leaned into a tantalizingly muscled chest. She knew what he looked like without a shirt and lust snaked through her veins, making her lightheaded.

Good God. Her hands rose of their own volition to clutch his biceps. It was like holding onto iron. He increased the pressure of his kiss. The caress of his lips on her mouth set her aflame. Her lips parted and he recaptured them, more demanding this time as their tongues rubbed together. She clung to him. He was a lifeline beneath the glory of the sun and the scent of grass and water. It was like tasting freedom after constraining herself for so long.

She could kiss him forever.

He broke the kiss and looked into her eyes. “Sweet Christ. Who would have thought? You’re brimming with passion, Phoebe.”

Her befuddled mind was slow to comprehend. Her body was alive and thrumming. It was delicious. It was heavenly.

It was wrong.

Shame coursed through her, and along with it, a sudden anger. At him. At herself.

She was wicked.

She touched her lips. “You shouldn’t have kissed me.” Her voice sounded breathless to her own ears.

“You are probably right. But you did kiss me back.”

“A gentleman would never say such things to a lady.”

His dark eyes watched her. “I never said I was a gentleman. I don’t regret it.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that statement. She took a step back and bit her bottom lip. His gaze immediately dropped to her mouth. Her blood coursed through her veins, and she had to look away. “I’m betrothed to your cousin.”

A muscle tightened by his jaw. “Ah, yes. Good of you to remind me.”

She reached for the reins of her horse. “I should go back.”

“I’ll see you to the manor.”

“No. You needn’t pretend to be a gentleman.”

“I won’t let you ride alone.” There was no sense arguing. She needed to ride, to cool her overheated cheeks. As soon as the manor came into view, Phoebe galloped all the way to the stables, not waiting for Landon’s assistance. She slid off her saddle, tossed Daisy’s reins to a waiting stableboy, and sprinted for the house.

She’d thought riding with the marquess at an early hour would be safe and a chaperone wasn’t necessary. In hindsight, she’d been wrong.

It wasn’t the man she had to worry about, but her own weakness.

…

Landon watched as Phoebe hurried into the house. Things had been progressing as planned.

And then they hadn’t.

Once again, she’d surprised him. He’d purposely told her pieces of his past to gain her confidence and to make her more comfortable with him. She’d listened and hadn’t shown the requisite pity he’d expected, but rather, she’d looked at him as if she’d survived her own hardship. He found himself intrigued.

And then there was that kiss. He’d intended for it to happen. His lust hadn’t entirely cooled since their swim in the lake. But when her lips had parted with a surprised gasp, unwittingly inviting him to take more, and she’d risen on tiptoes to press her curves against him, his thoughts of seduction, even his plans of revenge had been far from his mind.