Page 56 of The Secret of Flirting
She searched his face, as if to determine his sincerity. Then she flashed him a sad smile. “Freedom. To be myself. To live my life and practice my craft. To not always be worrying about how I shall care for Grand-maman, or what will happen if—”
A loud cry broke the stillness of the clearing. “Princess? Fulkham? Where are you? I’ve returned!”
A vile oath escaped Gregory. “Pontalba, damn him.” Gregory had more questions, needed to know more before he could make a decision about how to handle this matter. “Come with me.”
Before she could protest, he tugged her across the path and into the pavilion.
At least she went willingly. She too must realize that they weren’t done. “Gregory?”
He held a finger to her lips. “Keep quiet, and he’ll go away.”
She nodded, though her eyes showed she wasn’t as certain.
They could hear the fellow approaching, far too near for Gregory’s comfort. Pulling her deeper into the pavilion, he dragged her up the stairs that led to the second floor, with floor-to-ceiling windows that indeed overlooked Mother’s proposed new garden.
He released Monique and rounded the chaise longue near the window to stand where he could observe the duke. With the afternoon sun shining full on this side, the man shouldn’t be able to see them. Which was a good thing, since Monique came up behind him so she could look out the window, too.
As Pontalba surveyed the clearing, he scowled and muttered to himself, “Damn it, I could have sworn I heard them out here somewhere.”
Monique tensed, and Gregory shot her a reassuring glance.
“What the hell is this, anyway?” the duke said in French. “A bunch of chalk lines on the ground? These English are mad, I swear.”
The leap of fire in Monique’s eyes amused Gregory. He could see she was itching to march out and give the man a piece of her mind about Mother’s designs. It made him want to kiss her.
So he did.
And to his shock, she responded beyond his wildest dreams. She opened her mouth, let him deepen the kiss, then tangled her tongue with his, as if she’d never wanted anything more.
He was no fool—he took advantage, kissing her with all the urgency in his loins. He wanted her. Even now that he knew who she was, and what she and her great-uncle had planned, he still wanted her. In truth, it was hard not to want a woman who would risk everything for her grandmother.
But even before he’d known that about her, he’d desired her. Because when it came to her, all his vaunted control and logic went right out the window.
Right now, his entirelifedidn’t make sense. She was the last person he should desire—an actress who could do nothing to further his career. Who could actually harm it irreparably.
Yet he didn’t care. All he knew was he wanted to keep kissing her, holding her, touching her...
“Is he gone?” she whispered against his mouth.
The words drew him briefly from the sensual cloud she wrapped around him every time their lips met. He looked out. “I think so. I don’t see him.”
“Good,” she whispered, then tugged his head back down to hers.
The kiss rapidly spiraled beyond his control. Her mouth, so soft and wet, made him want to plunder and ravage her like some conqueror of old. He manacled her waist with his arm and smoothed his other hand down over her skirts to cup her sweet bottom, pleased to find how shapely she was beneath her petticoats.
God, how he wanted to taste her, caress her... take her.
She tore her mouth free to murmur, “You see how it could be between us? All you need do is promise not to say anything to the count.”
That sparked his anger, making him clasp her head in his hands. “I told you I will not let you barter your body for my silence.”
Her eyes narrowing, she slid her hand down over his rapidly hardening cock and rubbed it, silkily at first, then more roughly. “Are you sure? Because it seems to me that yourbodyis more than willing to barter for mine.”
He hissed a breath through his teeth. “You don’t play fair, my sweet.”
“Says the man who marked my wrist with his love bite.” She stretched up to press a kiss to his neck just above his cravat. “Shall I markyou, my lord? So that every time you look in the mirror, you remember how you had a chance at me and threw it away for your ambition?”
“Not for my bloody ambition, for damned sure.” A groan escaped him as she licked the spot, tantalizing him with her tongue. “I risk my ambition more with every hour I let this masquerade go on. Even if I did agree to your terms and keep silent, I can’t prevent someone else’s unmasking you. And if it comes out that I knew the truth and didn’t speak, I’ll be ruined.”
