Page 48 of To Resist a Scandalous Rogue
“And what of your campaign?” The worried lines on her face softened as she said this, as if touched that his first thought had not been for his own political career.
“Perhaps I would have to share nuggets of information of what I’ve learned today.” He shrugged. “Mayhap if others knew about their reprehensible actions, they wouldn’t be so quick to believe the venom they spread.”
“Perhaps.” But the way her brows were drawn together told Finlay she wasn’t convinced.
“Charlotte,” he murmured, dropping his forehead to hers, “I’m not going to stop helping you or spurn your company because your former in-laws might potentially make trouble for me.” It was something his father would do, and he’d be damned if he followed his example.
“Don’t forget, you’re also supposed to find a bride.” Her breath tickled across his mouth, and his body responded immediately to the sensation. “Any association with me could severely hinder your chances of securing the perfect political union you need.”
The reminder of Matthews’s marriage mandate was like a cold streak of wind across his skin. When he was with Charlotte, he forgot about everything he was supposed to be doing and everything he was working for.
Searching her steady gaze, he found he was willing to suspend such thoughts for a few minutes longer.
“It’s a chance I’m willing to take,” he whispered. Lowering his head until their breaths mingled, he held her gaze until she closed her eyes and sighed.
And then he pressed his lips to hers.
…
How could something so foolhardy taste so right?
The outer recesses of Charlotte’s mind wanted to contemplate this question as Finlay’s mouth moved over hers, but the area of her brain that controlled her physical response overruled that nonsense. Instead, it insisted she bask in the mastery of Finlay Swinton’s bone-melting kisses.
With a forceful sigh, she wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned into him. Cor, he felt delicious. Her body remembered his. How his hard contours fit her soft ones. How his heartbeat thudded out a rhythm just beneath her ear. How he tasted her as if she were a fine, rare wine. Or whisky. Her fingernails bit into his back as arousal swept through her, shooting fire to every limb and making her feel languid in his embrace.
He tore his lips away, his eyes possessive as they roamed her face. “Why did you leave that morning?”
Her cheeks suddenly felt hot, and she longed to bury her face in his chest again. “I couldn’t afford to stay any longer.”
Finlay nuzzled her temple, his breath on her neck spreading gooseflesh in its wake. “Why not?”
She swallowed. “You make me feel weak…and I was afraid I would tell you yes.”
“Tell me yes?” A frown marred his beautiful mouth before it dissolved as comprehension dawned. “Oh.”
She nodded, unable to think of a thing to say.
He ran his knuckles down the side of her cheek. “I would have done you a great insult had you stayed. You deserve much more than I would have offered you, and I would have shamed myself with such an offer.”
Conflicting emotions warred at hearing Finlay acknowledge his intentions from their first encounter. That he didn’t lie or try to explain away his motivations or his reasoning was the greater blessing.
Finlay continued to stroke her cheek, his eyes following the path his fingers took over her skin. His gentleness, the look of longing and desire in his eyes made heat pool low in her belly. She arched her neck into his hand for a moment, indulging in the feel of his skin finally on hers.
What would it be like to be married to a man such as him? She considered this as she breathed in his rich scent, a combination of leather, mint, and man. Despite everything he knew about her past, in spite of their scandalous beginnings, Finlay Swinton had never done anything to harm her. Had never uttered a disparaging word about her character. Had never judged her or her actions. Instead, he’d made her feel safe, wanted, and beautiful.
She hoped if Mr. Townsend ever disparaged her character to him, Finlay would be an ally.
Miss Eddington’s delicate face came to mind, and Charlotte’s eyes popped open. Like a ninny, she was allowing herself to fall under the spell of a man who could never be hers. If she said the words, he would make arrangements to care for her and keep her safe. And if she permitted, he would make love to her, worship her body in ways that would leave her breathless with pleasure.
The only cost would be her heart.
With a Herculean effort, she broke free from his arms. She skirted around the chair again, desperate to create some space between them. He let her, following her movements with his gaze only.
“I can’t do this. Again.” She wiped her palms down her skirts, before she clenched the material tight in her hands. “There’s too much at stake. My future with Little Windmill House, your political aspirations.” She bit her lip and forced herself to say, “Your need for a proper political wife. I would be a liability to you. And frankly, you would be one for me.”
“Liability?” Finlay snorted, but a groove had appeared between his brows. “You make our association sound so uncouth.” When she opened her mouth to argue, he cut her off with a slice of his hand. “No, I understand your point, and I appreciate your circumspection, even if I’m frustrated by it.”
Charlotte looked away, blinking rapidly. Her lungs burned with the effort of holding back her words of agreement.
