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“You appear disgruntled at the idea,” she said tartly.
“I am not a man who normally explains himself to others.”
There went that dip in her belly and surge inside her chest. “Yet you’ll explain it to me?”
He held her regard for a moment, the intensity of his gaze almost sucking her under to a place she did not understand. The marquess made no reply but spun her in several commanding circles until she was breathless. The dance ended, and he escorted her to Harriet and Agatha, who stared at him with astonished gazes. He courteously bowed to them, then melted away in the throng.
“Good heavens, never say you asked Lord Trent for a dance,” Harriet gasped, fanning herself with rapid motions.
“You did dare me,” Pippa said with a small smile, quite aware her belly still pitched with nerves and a sense of excitement at her daring.
“When I said someone dangerous,” Harriet said, staring at her with a glint of admiration, “I did not meanthatdangerous.”
Agatha nodded. “Remember Prue said the marquess was the rogue who urged her husband to take a mistress!”
More than a rogue, a downright scoundrel!Yet Pippa staunchly replied, “He seems very good-natured and kind.”
Her friends stared at her in blatant astonishment. Even though they were not overly familiar with the marquess, stories about him have been bandied about in thetonfor several seasons. Rumors said he had fought two duels in his life where he killed both people, and there were even talks of him leaving England for a few years because of his actions. All thematersknew he was not a man willing to marry, even to someone who went to great lengths to trap him in a compromising situation. He had walked away from such a scheme a few years ago, and the lady’s reputation had been distressingly ruined. Many in society blamed him for it, stating that he should have married the lady as a man of honor and good breeding. After all, she had been the daughter of a duke. Those were just the murmurs Pippa was familiar with. Surely there were many more ghastly tales of his wicked doings of which she was unaware.
Her friends teasingly chided her for a few more minutes, and Pippa excused herself from their good-natured bantering with the excuse that she needed some fresh air. She was very careful in slipping from the ballroom, given the keen eyes of her mother, who was also in attendance. Once outside, she walked rapidly along a small path until she came upon an alcove. The darkness and lack of lanterns made the area almost indistinguishable. Pippa was about to turn around when a sound rustled in the dark. A heart-pounding awareness burned through her, and she stilled.
The marquess emerged from the shadows, and she barely discerned his features in the pale light cast by the half moon. Now that she was so intimately alone with him, she admitted her willingness to be outside with him far too impetuous and reckless.
“The viscount’s often boorish nature is known to me,” Lord Trent said at her silence. “I suspected he would not have let the matter go, for you bruised his pride and vanity. I also suspected you might have attempted to deal with matters on your own once again instead of burdening your family. I decided to let the viscount understand you were protected; should he ever interfere with you again, he would bitterly regret it. You’ll forgive me, Lady Philippa, if I overstepped.”
It was not anger that poured through her veins like molten lava. But a sense of being protected…and cared for, even if it came from someone she hardly knew. What drove him to want to protect her?
“Thank you,” she whispered, then she took a few steps until she was right before him, tipped onto her toes, and pressed a chaste kiss to his jawline. He faltered into stillness, and she swore she felt the echoes of his harsh heartbeat inside her body.
It was rather bold and improper, but Pippa allowed herself to be guided by the desire stirring inside. She no longer acted like the shy wallflower whenever she wanted to do something. She stepped away, inexplicably missing the heat pouring from his body.
“I know you said I do not owe you, but I shall repay your kindness one day, my lord.” She dipped into a curtsy. “Good evening, my lord.”
While turning away, he gripped her arm and hauled her up against his chest. Her entire body heated. A whimper lodged in her throat at the feel of his powerful body against hers, and the scent of his warm masculinity. The marquess dipped his head, and the firm pressure of his mouth rested atop hers. Pippa felt faint. He did not deepen his kiss. It was as if the marquess waited for something from her. A delighted sigh whispered softly between them, and longing slid hotly inside Pippa’s body, and she whispered against his lips, “Yes.”
A groan of relief echoed from the marquess. He moved his mouth over hers with domineering sensuality, sending her senses careening at the wicked pleasure of feeling his tongue touching hers. Impossibly, it felt like tiny tremors were exploding throughout her body. Pippa clutched his shoulders and leaned into his embrace, moaning at the evocative feelings roused inside her body at kissing the marquess. As his mouth moved over hers, their tongues gliding against each other, stoking sensations atop sensations, Pippa sensed that she had been irrevocably altered. Her breasts swelled with languorous heaviness and an ache throbbed between her thighs.
She now knew passion and desperate want, and the knowledge of it would never leave her. Her entire being ached with want. She gasped when he swung her into his arms so that her feet dangled from the ground. He held her like that, his strength at once intimidating yet arousing. They kissed for several moments before he released her with a harsh, muted sound. Her lips felt bruised, yet the sensations throbbing low in her belly were not fright. It was one of alarming want.
“Do not look at me so,” he growled, raking his fingers through his hair.
“I’ll try,” she gasped, still staring at him, wondering at the feelings twisting through her body.
A harsh curse slipped from him. He tipped his face to the sky and held himself ruthlessly still.
“How old are you?”
Pippa drew a deep breath, trying to calm the wild pounding of her heart. “One and twenty.”
“Have you ever taken a lover?”
A blush heated her entire body. “No,” she said on a strangled breath. “Of course not!”
He lowered his gaze, and she almost stepped back at the wicked intention viewed in his stare. The marquess wanted her carnally. Yet he was not forcefully or ruthlessly taking, even though he had the strength and privacy to do so. Something warm tumbled over inside her, and Pippa had the inexplicable sense she would always be safe with this man. A sense of safety she’d not known she craved from someone not in her family. “What is your name?” she softly asked, hoping he would inform her. She did not wish to keep calling him ‘my lord’.
The controlled rigidity went out of his frame. “William.”
Pippa smiled and took the risk of touching him once more to brush another soft kiss along his jawline. He groaned as if tortured, and she laughed.
