AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I don’t doubt it.” He stared at her mouth again with great interest. “Repulsive?”
Rosalind’s fingers sank into her skirts, grasping at the fabric. A strange sort of energy hung in the air between them, sparking along her skin with alarming frequency.
Torrington watched her with the same amused smile he’d had earlier. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a woman refer to me as repulsive.”
“I must apologize for being so direct, but youdidask.” She composed herself. It hadn’t taken nearly as much effort to dissuade the other gentlemen who’d approached her. Torrington must have an incredibly large ego that he couldn’t suffer the rejection of a young lady he barely knew in her third season. “There must be dozens of ladies in my position who would be grateful to be under your consideration—”
“Hundreds, Miss Richardson. Possibly thousands.” Torrington took a step closer, the awareness of his much larger form making her pulse kick up. “None of them seemed to mind the pillows masquerading as muscle beneath my coat.”
Oh dear.
“Is your corset laced tightly? I think mine might be.” He patted the flat plane of his stomach.
It sounds so much worse when he says it.
Cedar, leather, and clean linen invaded her nostrils as he leaned over her. Torrington’s scent. Intoxicating. Rosalind inhaled deeply, or as much as she could. It was becoming more difficult with every passing moment to maintain the lie that he was repulsive when her entire body was tingling at his nearness.
“I happen to like gooseberry tarts, Miss Richardson. There is a trick to making the pastry flaky. I wonder if you know it.”
He heard everything.
“My lord, you are—” she whispered, not daring to finish her thought.An earl who should know nothing about pastry making.She opened her mouth to ask Torrington how he’d know such a thing when the edge of his nose trailed along the curve of her cheek.
Rosalind’s heart beat harder. Louder. Was he going to kiss her?
“Repulsive.” Torrington’s mouth was barely inches from her own. “Unappealing in every way. Your disgust is quite clear.”
The featherlight touch of his mouth on hers sent a wave of sensation down the length of Rosalind’s body. Her breasts began to ache, straining against the confines of her clothing, begging for his attention. Heat, the sort not caused by a warm fire or a cup of tea, bled down between her thighs. “What are you doing?” she whispered.
“I am attempting to make a point, Miss Richardson,” he murmured softly over her lips. “Can you guess what it is?”
Oh, yes.Rosalind had a very good idea.
Torrington’s mouth closed more firmly over hers with exquisite patience, gently coaxing the flame he’d lit so effortlessly inside her to burn brighter. The tip of his tongue traced along the seam of her lips, urging her to open for him.
A whimper came from Rosalind. A frantic, eager sound. Everything she’d gleaned from those books of her father’s, some of which she’d examined several times, flooded her mind. She felt combustible, like a small plump pile of kindling, so dry the wood thirsted for the flame stretching toward it. Rosalind’s lips parted, her tongue darting out to tentatively touch his.
A low growl came from Torrington. His mouth on hers became urgent. Possessive.
Lightning struck Rosalind, traveling over the small space where the tops of her breasts skimmed the edge of his coat. The sensation lapped between her thighs, drawing heat up between her legs. Surrender erupted from between her lips. Rosalind’s hands slid up the expanse of Torrington’s chest, palms stretched over his torso, her fingers running over his arms.
No padding.Not a bit.
What would it be like to have Torrington’s mouth on her body? Feel all that warm, cedar-scented skin brush against hers?
The chirping of the birds circling above their heads dulled. The conversations of the guests lingering on the terrace became more distant. Her mind tried to form a coherent thought and failed.
Torrington’s mouth slowly retreated, and Rosalind found her lips chasing his, a small cry of regret escaping her. The fabric of his coat slipped through her fingers.
He took a firm step back from her. Surprise glinted in his eyes. The ragged sound of his breathing mixed with that of a pair of bees buzzing near the rose bushes. Torrington stared at her, his palms flat against his thighs, fingers pressing into the fabric of his trousers.
He’d never once touched her.
The sensation of being set aflame slowly ebbed from Rosalind’s body. Her fingers fluttered in the air, wanting to grasp his coat once more. Not to mention her mouth, which could still feel the press of his.
“My lord—” she choked out.
“I’ve made my point, I think,” Torrington said, his gaze never leaving her face. “As you have made yours, Miss Richardson. I’ll take your opinions to heart. Had you asked, I would have told you I am not in the market for a wife. Or a brood mare as you so charmingly put it. You have been misinformed. I fear your efforts to dissuade me were wasted.”
