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And then all these cogitations were for naught as once again, he set her aside and said, “I am a cad to take advantage of your unstable emotions.”
Her lashes fluttered before she repeated the words in her mind and finally said, “My unstable emotions?”
“Yes…here…lonely, worried…upset…I…”
“And what of your emotions? Are you lonely, worried or upset? Is that why you kissed me, for I tell you frankly, those emotions are not what prompted me to kiss you.”
He eyed her strangely for a moment and asked, “No? What then did?”
She was flushed and embarrassed, so instead of answering him, she wagged a finger at him and said, “Right, as though I am stable enough to know?”
Suddenly he was reaching for her, and he murmured, “May I rot in hell for this.”
Once again she was in his arms, but this time, it was a crushing embrace. It was as though he had been at war with himself and lost.
He lifted her off the ground as his mouth devoured hers and then as he set her feet back down, his hand traveled to cup her breast over her shirt.
He nibbled at her ear and then did the same down the length of her neck and she heard him whisper hoarsely and as though he said it against his will, “Delicious woman, I am lost in you.”
He was a duke. He was a London rogue who had been with countless women, she was sure and he thought her delicious? She was spelled by his touch, by his voice, by his words and she bent to his love-making, matching his desire with her own.
In his arms, she felt as though she was floating into a world of sensation. She wanted this to go on. She liked the feel of his body against hers, felt his manhood through his breeches as it pressed against his clothing and hers and knew a sure excitement, curiosity and a need for more.
And then all at once as though he could wait no longer, his mouth went once again to hers and parted her lips with his own.
Sir Owen’s kisses were nothing like these.
She felt the heat from her toes shoot straight to her brain and fry all logic with one fell swoop.
His tongue gently danced with hers, teased her response and seemed to move with intensity as though emboldened by her return of his passion.
She was hungry for more of this, more of him. More.
She thought of her friend Lucy telling her, that she would know when she was really kissed. Lucy had been right.
He tasted so good and her entire body was on fire. She knew that this was probably what it meant to be a wanton woman and did not care. His kiss was the kind that dreams were made of.
Everything all around them vanished.
All she knew was that they were alone, in each other’s arms. It was as though they were wrapped in a velvet sky and shooting stars exploded all around. Even with her eyes closed, she could see it all. There was only the two of them.
Her blood was bubbling in a way that made her want more kissing, more, more, more.
Then all at once, as though she had done something wrong, he set her away again and stepped back as though she were a red hot poker.
He stared at her as though she was something dangerous, something that had ensnared him, something he had to escape and he nearly stumbled as he stepped backward and hit the wall.
He put out a hand as though to ward her off and said, “Bloody hell, I don’t know what just happened, but I do beg your forgiveness. I have most certainly overstepped and…I apologize.”
She was unable to respond. She was embarrassed and hurt at his rejection. She turned away from him and said quietly, “Indeed, I would appreciate it, if you would just forget that this ever happened. I know I shall.”
His voice when it came sounded dry, stilted, “I have matters in town that require my attention.” He moved to his horse and set about tightening the girth.
She didn’t want him to go and felt a fool as she asked, “Oh, but don’t you want to wait for Ned and Chauncey?”
“I came only to bring you your horse,” he said and inclined his head as he led his outside and kept his eyes averted.
She stood at the makeshift barn door and sighed sadly as she watched him mount, and shift in his saddle.
