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“Let go of me, sir,” she said as she struggled to remove herself from his grasp. But he overwhelmed her, not just with his physical force, but with his nearness—the smell of him, the heat of his body in the places where it touched her.
Instead of getting away from him, she somehow managed to entangle herself further in his arms. “Let go of me,” she insisted, pushing against his chest as her heart pounded.
“One kiss,” he said. Holding her close
, inhaling the fragrance of her hair, her skin, he could smell the depth of the unrest she could unleash on him. He could feel it and he knew he would be able to taste it in her mouth. “Just a sample of your wares first before I put out any hard-earned money.”
“Sir!” she spat, so angry now that she could barely focus on the face hovering over her as she bent backward in order to keep his body from touching hers any more than it already was. “I assure you I am no—”
His mouth came down hard over hers, muffling her last words. She’d been kissed before, by Maurice, and by a few other young men on Martinique, but never like this. His mouth was merciless, searing her lips like a flame, forcing them apart. He held her with one arm around her waist, the other around her shoulders, crushing her. When she tried to move her head to escape, she felt his hand slide upward until his fingers brushed the nape of her neck, holding her trapped in his arms.
Sapphire’s legs went weak. She couldn’t think. Her mind was screaming but she could make no sound. To her horror, Blake thrust his tongue into her mouth, and as she grasped a handful of his waistcoat to loosen his hold, she somehow rose upward, deepening his kiss even further, forcing little whimpers from her throat.
She feared her pounding heart might burst from her chest. He was smothering her, filling her with heat.
Suddenly, there was a sound.
Thixton jerked back, glancing over his shoulder, but did not release her.
7
“Pardon me, Lord Wessex.” The intruder cleared his throat. He stared at Sapphire, who was trying to extricate herself from Thixton’s arms. “I hadn’t realized you were—” he cleared his throat again, obviously amused “—occupied.” His hand on the doorknob, he backed out the door, smiling lasciviously at Sapphire.
He thought she was some sort of wanton, as well! “Wait,” Sapphire cried, flustered, trying to smooth the bodice of her gown. She still couldn’t catch her breath. “This isn’t how it appears, sir. I only—”
“Lord Wessex.” The intruder, still smiling, bowed to Thixton and paid no attention to Sapphire as he pulled the door closed behind him.
“How could you do such a thing?” Sapphire demanded as she took a step back from Thixton, still trying to straighten her gown. Then, realizing a thick lock of her copper hair had fallen from its fashionable upsweep, she tried furiously to return it to its place, but when she pulled out a pin to fasten the stray lock, more hair came tumbling down.
Thixton just stood there staring at her, seeming a little perplexed. “You really aren’t a harlot, are you.”
“Certainly not.” She pushed back a lock of loose hair and then gestured angrily in the direction of the door. “Little good the truth will do me now! That man…that man will go out there and tell everyone I was here alone with you.”
“And that you were kissing me?” he asked, taking a step toward her, smiling again.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her gloved hand. “I was not kissing you, sir,” she spat.
He took another step toward her and she sidestepped him by going around the other side of the billiards table.
“I…I must talk to you about my father. About Edward Thixton,” she said, attempting to gather her thoughts and remind herself of the reason she’d come here tonight in the first place. Only now she could think of nothing but him. Of nothing but the feel of his mouth on hers. The taste of him…
“But…but,” she stammered indignantly. “A more public place might be more appropriate as you are obviously not to be trusted as a gentleman.”
He surprised her yet again by not leaping to the defense of his honor as any decent gentleman would have. Rather, he tilted his dark head back and laughed.
“How dare you laugh at me! I am not through with you, Mr. Thixton,” she threw at him as she turned and rushed for the door.
“I hope not,” he called after her, still laughing.
Sapphire stormed out of the billiards room, slamming the door behind her. As she pushed her hair from her eyes and hurried up the hallway toward the music, she looked up to see guests lining both sides of the wall, staring at her.
Sapphire strode past them, down the hall and directly into the entrance hall. Without even looking for Aunt Lucia or Angelique, she continued out the front door.
“There you are.”
Lucia couldn’t resist a smile as she looked up to see Jessup Stowe hurrying toward her. He was quite handsome for a middle-aged man, bald pate and all, and they had shared a turn on the dance floor as well as a very engaging conversation earlier in the evening.
“Please tell me you weren’t going to run off without saying good-night, my dear Cinderella. I don’t believe I could have slept tonight without bidding you a fond farewell.”
