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Then his gaze ensnared her, and her throat closed. A gentleman had never looked at Eleanor like this in her life, and that look, she decided, which held some tenderness, scared her, for it also held a hunger that she was wholly unfamiliar with. Yet an answering ache rose inside her, alarming her even further. She leaned against the door and bit into her lower lip.
How had her sisters done it? Been so wicked all these years? Even Fanny had anticipated her marriage with the man she loved and got with child out of wedlock. Lizzy was said to be the lover of a powerful duke. Though her sister never admitted it, Eleanor suspected it to be true. Her older sisters had been so daring, yet she was here, afraid to dance with a man under the banner of moonlight when she so very much wanted to be…even for a minute...slightly wicked.
The laughing voices of her sisters came back at that moment to taunt her. Though their expressions had been loving and teasing, now the memory of the word stung. She had always been the proper sister, the one who observed all of their naughtiness and saw how it distressed their parents. So she had wanted to be good, for herself and for them. Yet now all she wanted was to be not so good, not so proper. She closed her eyes.Why is it wrong to dance with him?Her rebellious heart whispered.
As if to mock her willpower, the strains of the waltz lifted in the air. Eleanor stepped toward him. “Yes.”
A harsh breath left him, and his eyes flared with unfathomable heat. This time when he held out his hand she took it and allowed him to tug her deeper into the gardens, in a deeper pocket of darkness. Though her heart shook and there was a weak feeling in her knees, it was not fear but exhilaration.
They started to dance, the only sound around them the music of the night and the shuffle of their feet over the grass. She could not see his expression and knowing he could not see hers, Eleanor allowed a wide smile to bloom on her mouth as he twirled her in the space. He did not spin her far, and he kept their dance tightly contained. She suspected they could not soar as if they were in a ballroom with ample space. Still with their closeness, every breath that trembled from her mouth seemed infused with anticipation. Yet she did not understand the anticipation of lingering within the moment. But Eleanor felt it every time he tugged her close into his embrace. There was a pause…one that took them out of the beat and rhythm of the waltz…before he released her in another tightly controlled spin.
It felt thrilling and evocative and dangerous.
“Mr. Glendevon—” she began as the pounding of her heart simply became too intense.
“Lucien.”
She could not speak his name. Nay, she did not want to say it aloud, for it would bring another measure of wicked intimacy to this encounter. The waltz ended and she stood there in the cage of his embrace, peering upward at him.
“Why could you not ask me to dance inside?”
“I could see the contempt on your grandaunt’s face and decided it was best to ask for a measure of privacy.”
“Surely it was not contempt,” she said in defense of Lady Celdon. “Perhaps she heard some rumor that startled her.”
A low, rough laugh echoed around her. “I assure you, Lady Celdon has never heard of me before tonight.”
“Then why would she forbid me from dancing with you?”
“Because I am a common man with common origins.”
Those words, said with rancor but with a measure of amusement, rattled her.A common man with common origins.
“I was once a common girl with common origins,” she said softly. “I daresay that could not be her reason.”
Her heart jolted when he cupped her cheek. The feel of his glove was raspy, and her skin prickled. “There is nothing common about you,” he said gruffly.
“I…Lucien.” Eleanor swallowed. “This does not sound like the friendship you mentioned.”
This is what lovers do, remained unsaid but lingered provocatively in the dark.
“I am going to kiss you, Ellie.”
She almost fainted.
“Pull away from me if you do not agree and walk away.”
She said nothing. Truly she could not. Another laugh echoed around her, this time it was charged with a sensuality that left her knees quivering. “I better leave and—”
The rogue caught her words with his mouth, shocking her into stillness.
CHAPTER8
She tasted like a dream come to life. Except this was a dream he’d never had before or even imagined could have existed, for Lucien had never tasted anything this sublime…this perfect. She moaned, and he swallowed the sound, careful to keep his passion in check. Her mouth moved below his, hesitantly, and he tasted the innocence. That should have urged him to lift his head and stop that madness, and he almost did, but then her hands ran up the length of his chest and wrapped themselves around his neck.
The sweetest of sighs fluttered against his mouth, then she parted her lips. Lucien groaned and deepened his kiss, drawing his tongue over the inside of her bottom lip. A fierce ache rushed through him and arrowed down to his cock, stirring him to life. Suppressing that wanton desire, he cupped her cheeks with both hands, and learned her mouth in soft kisses and nips. Teasing strokes and then deeper ones that invited her tongue to come out and play with his.
When her tongue tentatively glided against his, they both moaned. Hunger roared through him, and careful not to frighten her, he tempered the urge. Still, some of it slipped out when she moaned as he deepened the kiss. He nibbled her lower lip, startling her. Then, to his shock, she repeated his motion, kissing him with furious passion, then wickedly nipping at the corner of his mouth. His cock swelled, every muscle in his body taut and aching. God, he wanted her with a need that set his teeth on edge. A dangerous need to draw her into his lap and sit on the stone bench only a few feet away rode him. He wouldn’t take it too far, just an introduction to sin and pleasure. Before he could dare to act on the lascivious thought, she wrenched from his arms, and he let her go. Lucien grimaced to see that his own damn hand was shaking. A kiss had never impacted him in this manner, and he was a man who’d had his fair share of lovers.
