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At her unconscious urging, he gently caressed the side of one silk-clad breast, his thumb grazing the very edge of her nipple through the thin fabric.
She gasped as the hardening bud began to itch and ache, longing for something infinitely more satisfying. He touched her again, and liquid heat built down below, coalescing into a molten fire that made her yearn for him to touch her there, to touch her everywhere. Her body thrummed like a plucked harp string, responding to his caresses with a violent joy that resonated throughout her.
Laughter.
Harsh and unwelcome, it intruded into Alessandro’s awareness, dragging him back to the earthly realm. It had originated at the outer edge of the wood—and it was moving closer. The sweetness in his arms was oblivious to the danger, but he was not.
With regret bordering on physical pain, he pulled away. She resisted, making a small sound of protest.
“My lady!” he whispered, startled at the unsteadiness of his own voice. The dark fringes of her lashes lifted, revealing emerald slits glazed with unmitigated lust. His mouth went dry and the muscles of his arms trembled.
The sound of voices drew closer, and her gaze shifted away, sweeping the little glade in confusion. When she turned back, he saw the entire scene as it must look through her eyes: her wrists held prisoner in his hands. His hair, mussed from the restless meanderings of her fingers.
A high-pitched squeal from the trees nearby caused them both to start in alarm.
Helpless, Alessandro watched the emotions flicker across her face. In that instant, he knew without a doubt she was an innocent. It hit him like a cannonball in the gut. He wondered if this had been her very first kiss. To his amazement, his loins tightened unbearably at the idea. He was no seducer of virgins, yet he wanted this one with a ferocity that overrode every other desire he’d ever experienced.
The interlopers drew closer, and before he could so much as open his mouth to speak, she broke free and bolted.
“Wait!” He took off after her, swearing. But it was too late. By the time he made it to the edge of the wood, she was already far ahead, flying across the green toward the palace.
He stopped. If he were seen chasing after her, it would result in her ruination and quite possibly the king’s wrath.
A wry grin creased his lips. If she was ruined, would Louis allow her to marry him instead of her “family’s” choice?
The thought surprised him. That a green girl could make him contemplate abandoning the life of debauchery he’d so enjoyed was ridiculous. The minx could be no more than sixteen or seventeen! Marriage was out of the question.
But he could make her his mistress.
It might be nice to have a steady mistress. Given what she’d told him, it was unlikely that her groom-to-be would object.
The more he thought about it, the more sense it made. She was a natural-born sensualist, like himself. She’d be quick to learn and just as uninhibited, given the right encouragement. Innocent she might be, but she was no fool. Their conversation had revealed much. She was intelligent and canny, possessing wit and humor.
She was his perfect match.
Ye
s. He would find Lady Mélisande d’Orleans and make the arrangements. With these thoughts, Alessandro settled against the bole of a tree to wait until enough time had elapsed before following his soon-to-be lover.
THE NOT SO TENDER TRAP
Warwickshire, England, early spring 1747
RAIN PELTED THE crown glass windows of the parlor, echoing Mélisande’s dark mood as she looked across the room at David Pelham, nineteen-year-old heir to the dukedom of Newcastle. Any woman should have been ecstatic at the prospect of becoming not only the wife of a duke but the wife of a dear friend.
Her current state, however, was one of irritation and despair. Since his introduction to Society, women had made fools of themselves over David on a constant basis, but when she looked at him, Mélisande was distinctly uninspired. He was David. The closest thing to a brother she had on this earth. Love him, yes; but want him, no.
“We could do worse, I suppose,” he announced with a faint grimace of distaste. “We know each other, at least, and our lands adjoin, so you’d be close to your home and your parents.”
She looked at him as if he were mad. “It doesn’t matter how convenient it would be, David! There is no point in even having this ridiculous conversation. We’d both be absolutely miserable, and you know it!” Exasperated, she flopped into a chair.
They’d both argued vociferously against the marriage since her discovery of the arrangement, but to no avail. As children, they’d been promised to each other for the good of both families, and wed they would. Nothing could persuade their parents otherwise.
David had done his best, ignoring his father’s summons for the past year. He’d been brought to heel only when the duke himself had come to fetch his son—along with several burly “footmen.”
Now, the unwillingly betrothed pair had been locked in an upstairs parlor in the hope that confinement together would bring them to reason. After all, they’d not actually laid eyes on each other in almost four years, and both had changed a great deal. Their parents assumed that a handsome young couple put in such a situation would be unable to resist the lure of nature’s impulses.
They were wrong.
