Page 5 of His Duchess of Scandal
She nodded too quickly in response, and a droplet of the rich drink dripped from her lip to her chin.
Before she could lift a hand to wipe it away, he caught her chin.
Hermia froze, her eyes widening on the man before her.
He held her gaze, looking between her eyes and her chin. His thumb brushed over her skin, collecting the droplet.
Hermia’s stomach dropped when she found herself parting her lips, as if she thought it acceptable to take his thumb into her mouth.
But he did not do that. Instead, he licked the droplet off his thumb, his eyes closing as if in bliss.
Fire raced through Hermia. Exhilaration swept through her, a tidal wave she did not fight.
Tomorrow, she would be banished to the country, never to see the ton again. In one way, it was a blessing; in another, it was a curse.
Why should she not live for exhilaration tonight?
The stranger’s mouth curled into another handsome smirk, and he leaned in. “You may lick the next droplet,” he murmured.
The room turned hazy. Hermia wanted to giggle, wanted to bask in the warmth that his words and voice sent through her.
“Who says I’ll spill more wine?”
“I never said it would be you doing the spilling,” he countered, his velvety voice vibrating in her bones. “Or that it would bewine.”
His words rang with such an outrageous suggestion that Hermia had a moment of clarity, of marveling at his boldness.
She took a look at him, at an eyebrow that rose in challenge, as if to ask,“Well?”and made her choice.
When the stranger offered his hand to her, she took it.
She was tired of looking back, of regretting decisions not made, of not choosing herself. She was going to be Aphrodite tonight, and she’d follow this Ares.
As soon as her palm met his, her skin blazed. She felt as though coals fanned deep within her and radiated outwards, burning her from the inside out.
The man, this Ares, was taller than her, and he stared down at her, his eyes as dark as the deepest part of the ocean.
If Hermia was the lagoon, then he was the cave water, dark and mysterious, a depth of secrets she didn’t need to find out.
Not when he gazed at her like that, and certainly not when he led her out of the room. Her eyes did not even flit around the space like earlier. The dancing show and the crowd faded into the background as he took her into a hallway, leading her deeper into the house, and to another door that he pushed open without resistance.
Inside, a beautiful chamber awaited them, as if reserved for guests for such reasons.
Hermia’s nerves fluttered, but then quickly settled when she looked back at the stranger.
Is this who I am tonight? Henrietta, who might be so bold as to allow herself to enjoy something for once? To liveanonymously, with no consequences, no regrets. Just a bed and a handsome man, and this spark already igniting passion?
The stranger, her Ares, grabbed her chin again and tilted her head back. He reached his other hand past her head, shutting the door firmly behind them. His gaze bored into hers.
“You have more wine staining your mouth,” he murmured, thumbing her lower lip.
Hermia’s eyes fluttered shut, and a soft sound escaped her at that simple, light touch.
“Let me take care of that for you.”
And then his mouth closed over hers, as if he might lick the stain off her skin entirely and replace it with his passion.
Hermia could already feel herself giving in, uncaring of tomorrow, uncaring about anything but the feel of this man pulling her close. Of a solid, thick chest beneath her hands, of a tailcoat that slid off his shoulders easily when she let her instincts take over.
