Page 43 of No One's Bride
“The man is dead.”
Lord Denton huffed as if robbed of the need to seek vengeance.
“I appreciate yer brotherly concern, my lord, but—”
“My interest in you is by no means brotherly. If that frightens you, be assured this possessiveness will pass.”
Ailsa couldn’t stop the smile forming or the chuckle escaping her lips. The man tried to rationalise and control every human emotion. “Doubtless yer need to play protector stems from us working together on the case.”
The viscount rubbed his muscular thigh like it pained him. “No, it stems from my sudden desire to bed you. A raw primal need that defies logic. One made worse by our close proximity.”
“Oh!” Ailsa glanced at the empty seat next to him. Such talk was to be expected when in the grimoire’s company. But they had locked the item away in Mr Chance’s steel vault. Still, she decided to tease him. “Of course, it wouldnae be logical towantto bed me. Hence why ye need to find some other explanation.”
He sat forward, his masculine presence filling the small space. “I meant the compelling nature of these lustful feelings can rob a man of his will. I imagine you’re a woman most men would like to bed, but the very thought leaves me seething. That damn grimoire has a lot to answer for, madam.”
“So, ye admit we’re under its spell?”
“I admit I’m not myself at present.”
They fell silent, both gazing at the blinds, at the black leather upholstery, at anything except at each other.
Amid the stillness, an alarming thought struck her. Truth be told, she rather enjoyed Lord Denton’s attentions. Despite his shocking declarations, she felt safe in his company. And that kiss! Well, she was almost desperate to feel the heat of his lips and the rampant plunges of his tongue.
Hmm. How many times would she need to kiss him before it grew tiresome? Men rarely kept the same mistress for more than a few months. Was that not proof sexual attraction fizzled to nothing? Yes, maybe the more they locked lips, the more their passion would wane.
The coachman, Mr Gibbs, brought the carriage to a sudden halt. A quick peek beneath the blinds confirmed they were in Broad Street, a short walk from Chadwick’s Auction House.
Mr Gibbs had made it clear he served as a guard, not a peer’s lackey, and so Lord Denton sat forward and reached for the door handle. “If you would prefer to remain here, I’m happy to search the premises alone.”
The painful constriction in her chest said she needed to protect him, too. “Mr Daventry suggests two minds are better than one, and it would kill me to sit here imagining all manner of horrors.” With their knees so close they touched, she tapped him playfully on the thigh. “And with spindles for legs, ye may need my support.”
He captured her hand and let her feel the power in the firm muscle. “I’ve the legs of an Olympian, madam.” He smoothed her hand back and forth. “Feel the proof beneath your fingers, then you need never doubt my word again.”
Magic swirled in the air between them.
So intense it left them both breathless.
Ailsa swallowed past the lump in her throat, resisting the urge to flex her fingers and explore every hard contour. “My lord, ye should raise the barricade and ready yer defences. I fear there’s every chance we will kiss again tonight.”
He ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “Yes, I have every reason to think you might be right. Perhaps now is as good a time as any. Then we might concentrate on the case.”
Her galloping pulse sent heat coursing through her body. “Do ye nae want to fight the urge? Resist the temptation?”
“Not in the slightest,” he drawled, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. “Though loath to admit it, I lack the strength needed to resist, and we’re quite alone.”
They moved closer.
Pulled together by an otherworldly force.
A coiling need wound tighter in her belly.
But then Mr Gibbs thumped the carriage roof and yelled in a broad East London accent, “Have you fallen asleep in there?”
Lord Denton firmed his jaw and muttered a curse. “That man has the manners of a gutter rat. When it comes to it, he’d better be handy with his fists, else there’ll be hell to pay.”
Trying not to acknowledge her disappointment, Ailsa focused on their current task. “Mr Gibbs said it’s his job to keep us healthy, not happy.”
“If I don’t kiss you again soon, I’ll likely expire from desperation.”
