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“Yes!” She ventured to the edge of the bed, but when she spied the mouse scuttling over the floor, another squeak of fear escaped her throat. “There he is! Quickly, Mr. Montague.” The fear showed her in a horrible light, but she just couldn’t move past it. Not since that time in her childhood when she’d been beset with mice…
I cannot think about that now.
“Calm yourself. He will be gone more sooner than later, and especially if you continue to shriek with alarm.”
Oh, goodness, the mouse’s little whiskers were twitching. She could even see his tiny little feet and claws. Revulsion crawled up her spine. “I asked you to catch him. Please do so.”
“As you wish.” But when he moved toward the rodent, the mouse shot across the floor and then went beneath the bed.
“Ah!” Now that she couldn’t see the mouse, but she knew it was there, the situation was even more terrifying. “Do something!” If her heart pounded any harder, it would jump out of her chest.
“All right.” The man dropped to his knees at the side of the bed. “Let me just take a look, but there are no guarantees.”
If that mouse should spring at me, I can guarantee I will faint dead away.
Chapter Four
Hawk chuckled. The viscountess’ fright was all too real but was also adorable. “You are aware that mice can climb, aren’t you, Lady Ravenscroft?”
Never would he have suspected the woman who’d slapped him yesterday, the woman of strength and backbone was afraid of a little rodent. Why was that? He wanted the story, but right now, he had to distract her because he couldn’t reveal his mission.
Of course he’d known she’d followed him—she wasn’t skilled in regulating her breathing nor could she walk without making noise—and her attempts had both amused and discomfited him. If she got wind of what he was truly about, it would put her into danger and slow down the process of locating the valuables.
“They don’t,” she argued in a soft voice, but her eyes were as round as saucers. “I have only ever seen them on the floor or the ground outside.”
“Ah, my lady, I wish I could tell you otherwise.” As delightful as she was, as soon as he located that damned treasure, he’d be off for London and away from this widow who had the power to fascinate him. Nothing of import had been found in this room, but the clue he had could potentially point to this Dower House.
Why and where?
“Surely not.” She balanced on the bed with her arms crossed at her chest.
“Believe what you will. That is your prerogative, of course, but I’m telling you, I have seen them climb walls, draperies, wallpaper, cords. How else do you think they navigate the inside walls and reach upper floors?” After giving the floor a cursory check, Hawk scrambled to his feet. “I have lost sight of the mouse.”
“Oh, no.” One of her hands crept to her throat.
“Indeed.” It was best that he stall. What the devil could he talk about that was not his mission? She was far too astute, and he feared she’d find out anyway. “It is why God gave them those little claws.” When she uttered a half-cry half-whimper of terror, he chuckled again. It wasn’t well done of him, but to see her in a pelter again was rewarding.
“I need to go.” In the process of navigating the bedding, she lost her footing. With another adorable squeak, she tumbled to the mattress in a flutter of limbs and cloak. Her skirts lay in delicious disarray and revealed two well-turned ankles and shapely calves.
Well, that is just too tempting.
Anticipation buzzed at the base of his spine. Nothing distracted a lady more than kisses she both wanted and didn’t. And since his top priority besides finding the treasure was keeping it from this woman, he chuckled and joined her on the bed. “It would seem, Lady Ravenscroft, that you are a bit disheveled.”
In the course of trying to untangle her limbs from her skirts and cloak, a lock of hair fell over her forehead and finally she propped herself up on one elbow. “Whose fault is that, Mr. Montague?” The faint scent of lilacs wafted to his nose, and it drew him closer.
Damn, but the one regret he had from lying to her was she didn’t know his real name. No matter. It wasn’t the most important thing. “Certainly not mine. I am not the one frightened by a mouse.” Would she slap him again? There was only one way to find out.
Hawk took full advantage by slipping a hand to cup her cheek, leaning over, and pressing his lips to hers. Just like the last time he’d stolen a kiss, the puzzling attraction simmering between them ignited into an inferno, and the fact she didn’t offer much of a protest only added to the flames. As he pulled slightly away, he met her gaze with his, and when she gave an almost imperceptible nod, he uttered a groan, rolled onto his side, and pulled her more fully into his arms. He kissed her again, and this time one of his hands crept to the small of her back while the other cradled her head.
The petal softness of her lips glided beneath his. The slight taste of tea she’d no doubt had with breakfast came away on his palate, and oddly enough, it only spurred his curiosity. She twined her arms about his shoulders while one of his knees went between her legs. A half-gasp half-moan escaped her throat, and he grinned against her mouth. Oh, the widow was quite responsive—perhaps even willing for more than kissing—and if he managed to wrap his mission early, he would explore that temptation.
As he moved over her lips, explored, and teased those two pieces of flesh, he tugged at the ties that kept her cloak closed. When the fabric fell away, he dragged a line of kisses along the side of her silky throat. Lady Ravenscroft lifted her chin to give him greater access. She furrowed her fingers through the hair at his nape and the other hand she laid against his cheek, possibly in an effort to urge his mouth back to hers.
Who was he to deny her?
Again, he drank from her lips, danced his fingertips up and down her side, and when he settled at her breast, cupped it, and then dared to brush the pad of his thumb over her nipple, her moan of surprise worked to further stoke his ardor. That tip hardened beneath the fabric of her dress, and she squeezed her thighs about his knee. His shaft tightened, pulsed with erotic need. For the space of a few heartbeats, he considered yanking down the bodice to taste that pebbled tip, but he refrained. Now was not the time, and this session was proving too much of a distraction.
It was dangerous to let himself become lost in her, no matter that he wanted to explore the connection between them. Regardless of the thoughts that conflicted with his body’s responses, he enjoyed himself all too much.
