Page 56 of The Danger of Desire
“So nice. Ah, Delia. Sweet, sweet Delia.” He covered one breast with his hand, kneading the flesh through her gown, thumbing her nipple. “You slay me.”
“Do I?” she whispered, though she doubted he knew what he was saying.
His answer was a kiss, a hot, heady, deep one that shook her to her toes. She should stop him; someone could come in any minute. Yet she couldn’t help herself—even knowing he was unaware of what he did, she wanted to revel in the delicious feel of his mouth on hers, his tongue inside her, his scent engulfing her.
She threw her arms about his neck and gave herself up to the kiss.
“Yes, my sweet girl,” he rasped. “Be mine. All mine.”
Both his hands were on her breasts now, and the very daringness of it thrilled her. Next thing she knew, he was pulling her astride him and pushing against her down there in a most intriguing way, and her heart was pounding hard enough to be heard in London and—
“My lord!” a strange voice intruded. “Stop that right now! What do you think you are doing with my niece?”
Oh no—Aunt Agatha! Delia leapt from his lap. “You don’t understand... It’s not how it looks—”
“You mean his lordship did not have his hands on your breasts and your legs about his waist?” her aunt snapped. “I may be old, girl, but I am not blind.”
“Miss Trevor?”
Delia glanced back to see Warren, his eyes opening and confusion showing on his face.
He stood slowly, then threaded his fingers through his hair. “What’s going on? Was I asleep?”
“Yes,” she said swiftly. “I was just explaining to Aunt Agatha—”
“Do not play me for a fool, Delia.” Aunt Agatha glared at him. “As for you, my lord, shame on you for behaving so outrageously with my niece.”
His expression cooled to hauteur. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You were having a nightmare,” Delia said hastily. “And when I tried to wake you, you... well... You didn’t mean to do it. I know that, but—”
Aunt Agatha snorted. “Don’t be a green goose. If you believed he was kissing and fondling you in his sleep, thenyouare the fool.”
“Fondling her! I beg your pardon. I would never...” Abruptly, he halted and the blood drained from his face. “So it... wasn’t a dream. Oh, God.”
“If you try to pretend that you didn’t know what you were doing, sir,” Aunt Agatha said firmly, “I swear I will call you out myself.”
A new voice entered the fray. “That sounds intriguing. What has my cousin done now?”
Lord, no. It was Clarissa. And her husband. And some fellow Delia barely knew.
Warren glanced to the people in the doorway, then to Aunt Agatha and finally to Delia. Regret and something else she couldn’t read flickered in his gaze before he gathered his dignity and said stiffly, “I believe I have just made an offer for Miss Trevor’s hand.”
That softened Aunt Agatha only a little. “I should hope you have. Otherwise—”
“Aunt Agatha, please,” Delia cut in. “I need a moment to speak to his lordship.”
This was all moving too quickly. He would think she’d entrapped him. Or that she and Aunt Agatha had conspired together to entrap him. Surely she and Warren could find some way out of this that didn’t involve him being leg-shackled to a woman he didn’t want. Or her being tied to a rakehell who was only interested in her physical attractions.
Her aunt regarded her with the steely-eyed gaze that cowed even ladies of the highest rank. “It won’t change anything.”
“No, it won’t,” Warren said firmly. “But I, too, need to speak with Miss Trevor in private. I promise not to do anything untoward.”
“Do I have your word as a gentleman on that? If you even deserve that appellation.”
“Lady Pensworth!” Lord Blakeborough said sharply. “I will thank you not to insult my friends and guests.”
“It’s all right, Edwin,” Warren told the earl. “She has just cause to be angry.” He inclined his head toward Delia’s aunt. “You have my word... as a gentleman and the son of your good friend.”
