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“Dominic.”
“Dominic, we should open the door now.”
His lips traced the shape of her jaw and she found herself tilting her head to accommodate him. His finger was underneath her collar now, touching her skin, brushing the upper curves of her breasts. She knew she should stop him. No man had ever been so forward with her, and yet she didn’t want him to stop. In her heart she wanted more. She wanted to experience all there was to know between a man and a woman, and she wanted that man to be Dominic.
His lips found the hollow of her throat and his tongue dipped in, and her head fell back on a soft moan.
“So responsive,” he said, and licked her again.
The tingling seemed to centre itself in her breasts, and she found herself wanting to press closer to him, rub against him, which was quite worrying. Whatever he was doing to her was making her unhinged.
But his suggestion that he allow them to be caught had frightened her. She could picture the expression on her father’s face, and on the faces of all those she had known from childhood, and it was too much to bear. Then there was Louis—what would he think? No, it was time to put a stop to this.
“Let me go.”
Dominic lifted his head and there was a gleam in his dark eyes that made her want to run, and at the same time made her want to stay.
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nbsp; She didn’t wait for his response but pulled away from him, scrabbling behind her at the door, searching for the handle. It clicked and she hastily slid through.
The alcove was invisible from the room, unless you were standing right in front of it, but again no one was. Her heart was still beating wildly but she told herself she was safe. Then she remembered how he had kissed her and held her, and she touched her mouth and knew that it was swollen.
She couldn’t face anyone in this state. Keeping her head down she made her way out of the parlour.
“Margaret?” Louis was calling to her, but she didn’t turn.
“My mother. I need to check on my mother,” she said hurriedly, and made her escape into the corridor.
A moment later she was outside the White Boar, the cold air stinging her face, clouding her breath, and numbing her feet through her thin slippers.
Winter had well and truly come to Denwick and right now its bleakness felt appropriate.
Dominic went to the table and poured himself a tankard of ale. He’d lingered in the small room until he thought he was respectable, but had hoped Margaret might have remained in the parlour. He should have known she’d take fright. He shouldn’t have pushed her; he’d known it, and yet couldn’t seem to help himself. When he’d kissed her, touched her, he’d been on the verge of losing control.
He’d wanted to let himself go.
Dominic had never claimed the title of ‘rake’; he was too considerate for that. He had never seduced an unwilling woman, or even one who blew hot and cold. His lovers had always been as keen as him to find physical satisfaction, no matter how brief. But just now, with Margaret, he’d found himself wishing he was the sort of man who would push through his partner’s doubts and convince her to let him have his way with her.
The way she’d responded, the sounds she’d made, he knew she wanted him, too. He also knew that if he ignored her concerns she would run away, and that would be the end of any hope he might have of winning her over. Had he been too dominant just now? Had he lost her completely?
“Nic, this is Mr Scott.”
His sister’s voice brought him around. She was looking at him as if she knew there was something wrong. No doubt she would try to question him once they were alone, but for now, thank God, she was silent.
“Mr Scott the curate?” he asked, although he knew it must be him.
“The very same,” Sibylla said smugly.
The man was in his mid-twenties, with fair hair and guileless blue eyes. Dominic could already tell the curate was a good man—he had that air about him—the sort who would treat Margaret well and probably love her too. He knew he should let nature take its course, or fate, as Margaret would say. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.
Despite all his doubts a moment ago he wasn’t ready to give up. He refused to walk away from the woman he wanted to devote his life to. The woman who was perhaps his last chance of finding the sort of happy ending he’d given to others.
Did that make him selfish? He didn’t care. Dominic had come to Denwick with the intention of saving Margaret and making her his, and he hadn’t changed his mind. If anything, his resolution had grown stronger over the past few days.
Louis claimed his attention. “I have heard much of you, my lord.” His smile had an innocence that was faintly disturbing when Dominic considered what he had just been doing to the man’s intended. “Margaret has mentioned her stay in Mockingbird Square many times.”
“Has she?”
