Page 90 of A Rogues & Gentlemen Christmas

“No, Ned,” she said, panicked, but he pressed a finger to her lips.

“Hush.”

He withdrew his finger, sliding his hand into her hair, his palm warm and rough against her cheek.

“Yes,” she said, before he could even ask the question.

She held her breath as he leaned in, the touch of his lips against hers so gentle, and she sighed against his mouth. It wasn’t one kiss, but a thousand kisses, each one melting into the next as his lips caressed hers. He drew back, breaking the connection, and disappointment slammed through her.

“No! Don’t stop,” she protested before she could think about it, and blushing like fury as he smiled, a victorious smile of such pure satisfaction that it made her insides tremble in response.

“I wasn’t going to,” he said, kissing her again. “Open for me,” he coaxed, and she shivered as his tongue traced the seam of her mouth. “Let me in.”

She did, still a little surprised that it wasn’t wet and revolting as it had been with Mr Carrington.

His tongue was warm and silky, inviting her to touch him in the same way and she did, quickly enthralled by the sweet tangle and parry of one against the other. It was delicious, intoxicating, heat pooling inside her, low and deep, an ache between her thighs that made her squirm on his lap as she remembered the groom and his lady. He groaned, the sound sending a thrill of excitement thrumming down her spine. Would Ned touch her like that? Was that what he thought of now? She burned, hot and needy and desperate for more and almost wept with frustration when he pulled back.

“We’d better stop,” he said, the words gruff, his eyes so dark they seemed almost black now, reflecting the glow of the lamplight like polished ebony.

“No,” she said, daring to sink her hands into his hair. “Not yet.”

She tugged his head back down, and he went without a murmur, but this time there was an urgency to his kiss. His mouth was demanding, devouring her like he was ravenous. Far from being alarmed, or remembering Mr Carrington’s revolting attentions, Grace burned hotter still. She wanted Ned’s hands on her, those big, rough hands on her skin, touching her, caressing her. They were at her waist, and she felt the urgent desire to make them move higher. She whimpered with desire and he stopped at once, and would have put her away from him if she’d not clung to his neck.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking so appalled she almost laughed. “Did I hurt ye? Frighten—”

“No,” she said at once, smiling up at him in a daze of euphoria. “Nothing like that. It was… lovely.”

The look in his eyes stole what little breath remained in her lungs and she gasped as he clutched her to him, burying his face in her neck and breathing deeply.

“Gracie,” he said, her name like a prayer of thanks to a generous deity. “Oh, Gracie, do ye have the slightest idea what ye do to me? I’ve thought of nothing but ye since the moment ye fell into my arms. I swear I’ll think of nothing else for the rest of my days.”

“You’ll not get much done like that,” she teased, more delighted than she could say by his words. She felt beautiful and powerful, things she’d never felt in all her life.

He laughed and her heart soared that she’d made him happy. She’d never done that before, either. No one had ever smiled when she entered a room, never laughed at her words, not with amusement at least.

“Reckon not,” he said with a sigh. “But I think ye had best go to bed, lass, before I forget myself.”

“I don’t want to go to bed,” she protested. “And there are the dinner things to wash up.”

“I’ll do them,” he said at once. “God knows I’ll not sleep.”

“Why not?” she asked, having a good idea but still wanting to hear him say it.

“Because I want ye badly,” he said, the words raw and honest. “But I’ll not have ye walk down the aisle anything less than ye ought to be. I won’t have ye feel any regret for being with me, no more than is natural at such a marriage, in any case.”

She frowned at that. “I regret nothing that has happened between us, and I will not regret marrying you. Whatever circumstances brought us together.”

He kissed her again for that and she sank into him, her hands flat against his chest, revelling in the heavy muscle under his shirt, wanting to get closer, to put her hands on his skin, but he stood and let her go, so fast that she swayed and he was forced to take hold of her again.

“Ah, love, don’t tempt me any harder, I beg ye.”

She flushed, remembering Mr Carrington’s words and went to turn away, mortified, but he stopped her, catching her hand in his.

“No… no, I didn’t mean…. Ye did nothing wrong, nothing at all. Only, I want our wedding night to be perfect, and it’s damned hard to stop touching ye. I love that ye want me to, Grace. I need that honesty from ye and ye won’t understand what it means to me, how it makes me feel, but away to bed with ye now, for both our sanity. Please.”

Grace nodded and went to walk away, but he didn’t let go of her hand. She paused.

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. “Goodnight, my beauty. I’ll dream of ye.”