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15
Oh.
Granby’s lips on hers were soft. Persuasive. The barest brush of desire against her mouth. There was no urgency in his kiss, only temptation, a quiet coaxing for her to surrender.
Romy arched against him as coherent thought fled. She’d dreamt of his kiss. Of him.
When his tongue trailed across her bottom lip, she opened without hesitation, her own curiosity and the impatience she sensed in Granby guiding her. The small globes of her breasts grew heavy and heated as they strained against her bodice, trying to make contact with the planes of his chest. When the very tips of her nipples chafed against his coat, bright jolts of sensation burst down across her stomach to fall between her thighs.
A low sound came from Granby’s chest, the vibration echoing across her skin.
“I do not dislike you, Andromeda,” he murmured. “That is rather the problem.”
He nipped at her bottom lip before his tongue sank back into her mouth, tasting her. With a groan, his fingers sunk into her hair, sliding over her scalp before he fell back into the grass, bringing her with him.
Granby kissed her as though nothing else existed but their mouths and the stream bubbling away beside them. When he slowly sucked on her tongue, Romy pushed herself more fully against him. She didn’t care how improper this all was. All she wanted was him, solid and warm beneath her fingertips. She sunk her fingers into the ebony waves of his hair, letting the thick strands trickle across her hands, wiping everything else from her mind but Granby.
When at last he pulled his mouth from hers, Romy cried in disappointment, finding that somehow one of her hands had curled into his shirt, holding him to her. He was nuzzling the side of her neck, his breath wafting over her skin.
“I find you incredibly disagreeable, Your Grace,” she whispered, happy in a way she had never been before.
“I know.” As he looked down at her, his lips curled up at the ends in a genuine smile.
Romy’s heart beat violently beneath her ribs. Granby was savagely,wildlybeautiful when he smiled.
One large finger reached out to trace the line of her cheek. “I fear you will always find me so. Disagreeable, that is.” His finger trailed over her jaw before moving across her shoulder, lingering on the skin of her chest. The dark eyes caught and held hers, watching her reaction as he touched her, perhaps waiting for her to tell him to stop.
His touch continued along her neckline, pausing briefly to dip below the tiny row of lace, the pad of his finger brushing against the very tip of her nipple.
A small noise came from her throat.
Coal-black lashes fell down to brush his cheeks. “Jesus,” he whispered.
Immediately the finger retreated as if burned by a flame.
“We should go.”
Romy blinked at the cold, icy words. She could practically see the bits of frost gathering around his mouth. Refusing to meet her eyes, he helped her to her feet before bending over to hand her the leather portfolio.
Romy allowed it, though she was wounded by the sudden change in his mood.
When Granby’s gaze finally met hers, the aloof mask was once more firmly in place, a slight scowl tightening his lips. He’d closed himself off without warning so quickly, Romy hadn’t had time to object.
Romy’s fingers reached out, willing the lover of moments before to return, wanting some sort of assurance from him. A declaration that the kiss they’d shared had affected him as much as it had her. But just as quickly, her fingers retreated, knowing instinctivelythisGranby wouldn’t welcome such contact.
“Come. I’ll walk you back.” Granby made no effort to take her hand, as if he couldn’t bear to touch her.
“It isn’t necessary, Your Grace.” Her pulse wobbled as she tried to pull her own emotions back under control. Her anger toward him resurfaced; not for his arrogance or cold manner, for that was never in short supply, but for disregarding her as if she meant nothing. As ifthishad meant nothing.
And Romy was very certain it had. “You needn’t concern yourself. I’m quite capable of finding my own way back. I’ll hardly become lost.” She pointed to the clearly marked path.
“Nonsense. There could be unsavory creatures in these woods, myself among them.” He waved her forward. “Besides, we can have a rather awkward stroll back to The Barrow. You will ask me questions seeking to understand why I kissed you when it’s assumed I’ll offer for Lady Beatrice Howard.”
“Possibly.” She kept her gaze forward, not wanting him to see how much the idea of him marrying Beatrice hurt her, especially now.
“I will refuse to answer you,” he continued in a detached tone, “which, in turn, will stoke your anger and general dislike of me.”
Hewantedher to dislike him. Hate him. It would be better for Granby if she slapped him and announced she’d be leaving tomorrow.
