Page 48 of The Duke and Lady Scandal
He bent his head, and she responded with a kiss so eager that it stole his breath. With both arms wrapped around her, he pulled her closer. She arched onto her toes, and he all but lifted her off them so that her soft curves melted against his body.
When he teased his tongue along the seam of her lips, she opened to him immediately. And she learned quickly, tracing her own tongue against his lower lip.
Her scent drove him mad, and he wanted to find the spot where she’d dabbed the floral concoction on her neck, between her breasts, behind her ear.
He traced a path down to the base of her throat, just above the collar of her high-necked gown, and yearned to release each bloody button that kept every inch of her from him.
When he reached for the first button, he heard a scratch at the front door and stilled.
Helen was home.
It took all the willpower he possessed to stop touching Alexandra. But he forced himself to, gently setting her back on her feet and then lifting his hands from her body.
Her eyes slid open when he did, and shock was soon chased by disappointment in her eyes.
“What on earth has happened to you?” his sister called from the drawing room threshold, her gaze assessing his wounds, the blood on his shirt.
Helen still wore her overcoat and stared from Alexandra to him with curiosity and concern knitting her brow.
“I’ll be right as rain tomorrow,” he told his sister.
She lifted one dark brow and then strode forward, offering her hand to Alexandra.
“Hello. I’m Helen Drake, and you are?”
Ben winced at her curt tone. It wasn’t unkindness, just his sister’s usual efficient manner.
But Alexandra, in her own straightforward way, didn’t seem to mind. “I’m Alexandra Prince,and I’m pleased to meet you. Apparently, we’re both better than he is at chess.”
To his shock, Helen immediately softened, even chuckled. “I’m glad to hear he admits that to someone. He rarely will to me.” Still holding Alexandra’s hand, his sister added, “Perhaps together we can give him enough pointers to bring him up to snuff.”
“That sounds like a worthwhile challenge.” Alexandra looked back at him as she released Helen’s hand. “It’s late, and I should be getting on my way. Good evening to both of you.”
She offered him a nod, and then strode from the room.
“I should see that she gets off safely,” he told Helen, but Mrs. Pratt appeared in the hallway. She’d collected Alexandra’s coat from the hall rack.
“I’ll make sure of it, sir,” Mrs. Pratt told him.
When the two of them had headed toward the front door, Helen stepped closer, scrutinizing his injuries.
“Apparently, you were wrong, brother dear,” she told him archly. “You did indeed see her again. Your lady with a spark.”
Dressing for the Wellingdons’ dinner party took Allie far longer than she’d intended.
She kept getting lost in thoughts of the previous night. The wild impulse she’d followed to go to Southwark, and the overwhelming relief she’d feltwhen she found Ben, despite the state Jack Demming’s men had left him in.
And then that kiss. The memory was sharp and bright in her mind—she imagined she could still catch the scent of him on her skin, still feel the hardness and heat of his chest against hers.
Had he reached for her first? Or had she pulled him closer? She’d never experienced anything like it in her life—one moment they were two people with an odd magnetic pull between them and then they were kissing. And it changed everything. It no longer mattered if she had been too bold or if he had broken some rule of etiquette by touching her too freely.
The kiss hadn’t been awkward or hesitant or anything she’d imagined her first kiss might be. As soon as she was in his arms, she felt that it was right where she was meant to be.
The clock struck eight, and she realized she’d gotten caught up in those moments again.
She forced herself to finish washing and dressing, and then patted the pretty assembly of curls and jeweled pins that Lottie had arranged her hair into at her nape.
Ten minutes later, she alighted from the carriage the Wellingdons had sent to fetch her, wondering if she should keep the details of the previous night from Jo. They told each other almost everything, and Jo could read her as others couldn’t. But her friend would be happily distracted this evening.
