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“Wait!” He grabbed her arm and pulled her back, right into the path of one of the torch lights.
She looked up into the mesmerizing green eyes of Daniel Farnsworth, the Duke of Lybrook. Lord, he was still handsome, but not the pretty boy he had been. His beauty had matured. The edge of his jawline glittered with golden stubble, and his amazing eyes were deeper set and surrounded by tiny laugh wrinkles. His golden hair still flowed flawlessly past his shoulders. How might it feel against her fingers?
No! She gulped, willing herself not to stammer.
“Y-Your Grace?
* * *
Daniel looked down at the dark-haired woman whose mouth he had been ravishing. How could he have made such a mistake? She wasn’t who he expected. Yet he had known, somehow. Her kiss had been different. Innocent and sweet.
Her lovely dark curls and eyes the color of aged cognac seemed slightly familiar, but he couldn’t place her. Who was she—this maiden whose lips met his with a tender purity he had never known? He longed to take her in his arms again, to hold her, to kiss her. He wanted more of her. Much more.
But that was not to be. He had to apologize and let her go. It was the decent thing to do. Even he drew the line at seducing innocents. Most of the time, anyway. He was the duke now. He had responsibilities.
The pulsing inside his trousers convinced him otherwise. “Oh, bloody hell,” he said aloud, and pulled her body into his again.
She responded, and his heart pounded so hard he thought it would leap from his chest.
“Yes,” he whispered, “give me your tongue, love.”
Sweet, so sweet. He breathed deeply and inhaled her scent—spice cake and mulled wine. Wonderful. Slowly he guided one of her hands to his head and laced her fingers through his hair. Her other arm reached around his neck and caressed the muscles of his shoulders and back. He slid his hand from her waist, up the gentle curve of her spine to her nape, tilting her head farther back. He slid his lips away from her mouth, across her cheek and to her ear, tracing her lobe with his tongue, her ivory skin smooth as Oriental silk under his lips.
“I want to touch every part of you,” he said, rasping.
She shuddered and pushed into him. Yes, good. She wanted this too. He trailed his lips across her cheek, her sigh a delicate whisper against his skin. He moved to her throat, found her pulse point, and nuzzled it gently. He slid his tongue down farther and dipped in between her breasts. Such a soft, plump, rosy bosom—the satin skin heaven against his tongue. Her dress hid the flesh
y crimson of her nipples—like cherry bonbons but so much sweeter. How he wanted to suck them, pinch them. Bite them until she screamed.
He pressed his groin into her and groaned. God, she felt good against him, a perfect cradle for his manhood. He grabbed her bottom and pulled her closer.
Too far. Her lovely body tensed against his. Yet he didn’t let her go. He couldn’t. He nibbled at her lips, teasing them, sucking them.
A few breathless moments later, she pushed him away.
“Your Grace, have you lost your mind?”
“Yes,” he murmured, sucking in a breath and pulling her back to him.
She turned her head away, and his tongue slid across her satin cheek.
“Let me go!” She pushed hard and broke his grasp, and then she lifted her skirts and ran toward the front of the mansion.
Daniel wanted to follow her. He wanted to grab her and carry her up to his bedchamber. He wanted to undress her, sink into her body, and make her his. His arousal ached in his trousers. Slowly he slid to the ground, snagging his velvet jacket on the stones of the building. He buried his head in his hands. Good God, he didn’t even know her, yet his reaction to her was one he had never expected. He hadn’t thought there was anything new to experience with women.
* * *
He had been wrong.
When Lily reached the front entrance to the mansion, she leaned against the doorway before entering, her pulse racing. Her legs trembled as she forced them to bear her weight. She tried to regain her composure, but after a few moments, she realized it was a lost cause. All she could think of was his silky blond hair between her fingers, his soft full lips on her neck and between her breasts, his tongue exploring her mouth. His ravishment had permeated every cell of her body, centering in the damp heat between her legs. The sensation alarmed her, but she wanted more. More of him. God help her, she had enjoyed it.
She forced back a shudder and opened the front door. Lily walked until she found the ladies’ retiring area. She entered and sat down on a stool to view her reflection in the looking glass.
Her lips were swollen and dark from the duke’s passionate kisses. Her hair had come through fairly well, although it was a bit disheveled. Her hands still shaking, she fussed at it until she felt it acceptable. Dear God! Her breasts were pink and swollen and about to tumble out of her dress. She warmed as she remembered the sweet tickle of the duke’s tongue in her cleavage. She fidgeted with her bodice, tucking her bosom back in as far as the cut would allow. Had she asked for this? Thomas hadn’t approved of her low cut gown.
When another woman entered the room, Lily nearly jumped off her stool.
“My dear, are you quite all right?”
