Page 35 of Any Rogue Will Do
“Maybe we can’t take it away. But you could replace it. Can you kiss me, please?”
He hung his head, then grazed his lips along the juncture of her neck and shoulder, because by all that was holy, he’d just been asked to kiss Lady Charlotte Wentworth, and those were the closest body parts to his lips. Lottie’s nearness, the dramatic dip of her waist, her unique scent cueing his body to the intimacy of the moment—all of it would be forever lost to him if he made a mess of this.
As she’d told him of Montague’s assault, every bit of him had wanted to rage, to pound a fist through something, to hunt the slimy toad down and ensure he never touched another woman. But he had an excellent reason to not do any of that—Lottie in his arms, warm and willing, asking for a kiss. With one hand pressed so firmly into the wall, it was a wonder he didn’t leave a handprint behind in the plaster. Ethan tried not to pounce on her like a man offered his fantasy, although that was exactly what was happening.
Their breathing dominated the narrow passage, muffling music from distant rooms filled with guests. Opening his lips slightly, Ethan allowed himself a small taste of her skin at the shoulder—salty, complex with rich flavors he’d crave after tonight. As he placed slow, openmouthed kisses along the arch of her neck, her body softened against his. When he kissed her jaw below her ear, Lottie’s breathing grew shaky. She liked that.
He finally reached the corner of her mouth, and she turned her head and met him halfway.
***
She would think about the consequences later. Plans for the future, the list of qualities she needed in a husband—she set all that aside. Right now this mattered more. The heat coming from his body set off an unsettling buzzing under her skin she realized wasneed. Desire. That lust he’d mentioned on the balcony, then inspired as she’d watched him from her bedroom window. She knew how he looked under these well-tailored evening clothes.
This decision would throw them off course, away from the familiar. The danger of that, the unknown, made something within her come alive.
He finally kissed her lips. Usually, her brain assessed every moment, searched for ways to handle situations, prepared for any outcome—from the worst-case scenario to the best. All that went silent. There was simply her and him. And they fit.
His mouth moved over hers, and that part she’d only just discovered—the desire formore, for him, flared brighter. The gentle scrape of his teeth on her sensitized bottom lip drew a noise from her somewhere between a moan and a whimper. This was nothing like the bruising mashing of faces she’d experienced with Montague. Where Montague had roughly taken, Ethan was asking, gently coaxing as he gave pleasure.
Kissing him was like learning a new language. There was a call and answer between them made of breath and sounds that weren’t words but somehow still created a conversation—the most erotic conversation of her life.
If his hands caressed her, she’d probably purr. But he kept his palm firmly against her lower back, straying neither north nor south. The contact was both too much and not enough. She arched her body into him, chasing that need formore.
When the kiss ended, her small groan joined his heavy sigh. He rested his forehead against hers, exchanging air for a few more seconds. Their mouths were so achingly close. It took all her remaining self-control not to lick that dip at the top of his lip.
“You taste like heather honey, lass.”
“Is that a good thing?” Her world shook a bit, so it made sense that her voice would shake too.
“Aye.” Ethan eased his body away in small increments. One of her hands skimmed up his chest, and his blue eyes fluttered closed. After a moment, he stepped away and offered a hand. “I believe, my lady, that you owe me a dance.”
That was that, then.
In a daze, she returned with him to the rooms full of people. He hadn’t run his fingers through her hair or mussed her gown. Nothing of her outside appearance gave away the internal shift she’d just experienced. There wasmoreto be had, and while she hadn’t had time to unravel the tangle of emotions inside her, her heart and mind agreed that the feeling was significant. That this would complicate things but perhaps for the better.
They lined up for a country dance as if nothing untoward had occurred.
As if he hadn’t just caused an emotional earthquake making her question every unsentimental piece of her perfectly planned future. Because those plans didn’t make room formore.
Lottie curtsied when the music began and sent him a sunny smile, as if he hadn’t just potentially ruined everything.
Chapter Thirteen
Calvin dropped the paper next to Ethan’s breakfast plate. “Either you’re living an alternate life I’m not aware of, or the gossip columnists are getting desperate with their conjecture.”
Ethan flicked the edge of the newsprint out of his eggs. “What are they saying this time?”
Calvin pointed. Today’s headline declared “Paper Doll Torn Between Love and Money” in bold print. A sketch below showed Lady Charlotte as a one-dimensional cutout caught in a tug-of-war between two men. Montague’s perfect face shone as the hero in the picture, while Ethan’s hulking form sported an ill-fitting coat made of pound notes.
“Charming. Only accurate in that Montague is one gambling note shy of debtor’s prison.” Ethan folded the paper to hide the cartoon. One bright spot in all this was that the gossips weren’t aware of his financial situation if he’d been cast as the rich suitor who’d wooed her with his money.
Calvin flopped in the chair beside him. “People are mocking you, Mac. Is all this worth it? You don’t even get to marry the girl in the end.”
“She’s worth it.” They’d kissed last night, and he couldn’t help feeling that the landscape was changing beneath his feet. They’d gone into this engagement with clear boundaries: which people would know the truth, how long it would last, and who would end it.
Now he didn’t want her to end it. Whether that translated to actually desiring marriage, he didn’t know. But he sure as hell desired Lottie.
After their kiss he’d blurted out the first thing on his mind and told her she tasted like heather honey—sweet, earthy, and precious. Heather bloomed for only a short while, so the honey produced by the bees was all the more treasured for its rarity. She tasted like the best parts of home, and the knowledge had kept him awake late into the night.
