Page 32 of Nothing But a Rakehell
He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again.
“I know. I’m acting terribly. Not only showing fast behavior, but it’s also horridly rude to ask, after I refused you.”
“Not going to let that stop you, though, are you?”
“No.” She moved carefully to stand in front of him, just out of reach. “There is one problem.”
“There’s more than one.” He grimaced. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“It’s a logistical problem,” she charged on. “Or perhaps just a problem specific to me.”
“My lady . . . Glory . . . Whenever, whomever you choose to kiss . . . Your leg is not going to pose a problem.”
“Not my leg. It is another failing of mine, though.”
“You have another?” he gasped in pretend shock.
“Oh, stuff it,” she said with a laugh. And felt somehow more certain, because of it. Who else could make her laugh at herself? Who else sprinkled conversation with wit that reminded her of her first taste of champagne—surprise at the bubbling humor, appreciation of the quality of it—and a longing for more? “The thing is . . . Ihatebeing made to feel . . . inadequate. As if I am somehow less than others.”
“As you should. For you are not.”
“Normally—just like at this house party—all I wish is to be treated like an equal to every other girl. But in this case . . .”
“Yes?”
“It’s just that, there are so many women here—in the village, in the neighborhood, staying in the house—a number of them who are all pining for, or imagining, or plotting to convince you to kiss them.”
He blinked. “Are there?”
“Yes. And for the first time, I find I don’t wish to be counted among the crowd.”
“Problem solved. You’ve already said you didn’t want my kiss.”
She merely looked at him.
He sighed, exasperated. “Wait. You are confusing me. You don’t want to be kissed. Then you do want it, because it might not happen again, but you don’twantto want it?” He dug both hands into the hair at his temples. “I have no idea what I’m to do here.” His hands dropped away suddenly and he gazed at her with suspicion. “Just what is it that you are expecting of me? Are you asking me to kiss you? Or to kiss all the others, leaving you the odd one out?”
“Actually, it occurred to me that if I kept my mouth shut, that last scenario might come about all on its own.” She shook her head. “But I find I don’t like that idea, either.”
Not at all. In fact, she hated it.
“Well then, we are stumped, are we not?”
She hoped that was disappointment in his tone and not relief.
“I think we should just give the idea up.”
“No. I’m not stumped.” She moved closer. “I realized that there is only one solution. I will let them plot and pine and plan and wait for you to get around to kissing them—but in the meanwhile, I’m going to be the girl who kisses you.”
Chapter 7
She caught him completely by surprise.
Before he knew what she was about, she’d grasped his shoulders for support and pressed her lips to his.
His body knew what to do. His arms reached out and gathered her in, settled her on his lap. But his head was swaying wildly between flattered pleasure and wild, alarm-but-not-quite-panic.
He was a connoisseur. He’d well and truly earned his branding as a rakehell, and he’d done it with rowdy living and cavorting with countless women. All kinds of women, from wanton to timid and every sort in between. But he knew, with frightening certainty, that he’d never held a treasure like her in his arms.
