Page 47 of Nothing But a Rakehell
His heart wanted to explode out of his chest. Every instinct told him to turn and march out of there—but he could not reject her so soundly. Not when she’d been brave enough to make herself so vulnerable.
“That’s all I’m asking for,” she rushed to reassure him.
Ha. She had no idea what she was asking. He knew how women worked. How emotions tangled with everything and made the simplest transactions fraught with danger. He didn’t want to hurt her. It was the last thing he would wish. But that kiss had been bad enough. He had finally reached an equilibrium, had carefully shaped his days, his world, so that he would never have to feel . . . wrong. So he wouldn’t have to risk giving away anything and losing everything.
But if she got her way, he suspected things would get out of control quickly. He couldn’t see either of them getting out unscathed.
“It’s just . . . lessons. I have a dancing instructor, after all. It would be like that, nothing more. You are an expert, or so I have been assured by all and sundry. You would just . . . instruct me.”
She turned her liquid, hopeful gaze upon him and waited.
* * *
He was going to bolt.She could see it. But he closed his eyes and gathered himself.
“You honor me,” he said patiently.
Which of course, made her utterly impatient.
“Truly. I do understand the sort of trust that such a request requires.”
He was going to refuse her. She couldn’t let him. She started to move toward him, stepping carefully over the detritus on the forest floor. “Keswick, I do not want this to be yet another thing I am left out of.”
Some of the granite inflexibility melted from his expression. A very small amount.
“How? How did you become so brave?” He asked it as she stepped closer. “Where does this tenacity come from?”
He couldn’t hide the marvel in his tone and it gave her courage.
“I think I was born with it,” she answered a little breathlessly. “It must have been a blessing.” She had to keep him here, where the quiet was full of quivering expectation. Where desire tinged the air between them.
“More like a curse.” He said it on a moan, but he didn’t back up when she moved closer.
Good heavens, but he was warm. She could feel it from here. And see the quick rise and fall of his chest.
It matched her own.
Another step. He smelled of crushed bay and the faintest whiff of pipe tobacco. She was so near and he was so large. The expanse of his chest filled her vision—until she looked up at the awe-inspiring angle of his jaw. She placed a finger there and ran it along the edge.
Smooth. Warm. Not sharp against her skin, like she’d half expected it to be.
She had to kiss him. Tempt him to stay, to accept her bargain. She had to use the weapons she had. The pulse in the air between them, the tightening of his skin—for surely it was the same for him? The memory of that last kiss, how they had lingered, how they had tasted, together.
She steeled herself, balanced carefully—
And he swept down, grabbed her up and covered her mouth with his. He kissed her with lusty demand, even as he scooped her into his arms and carried her back, to the wide elm where she’d stood earlier. He took her around to the other side, still holding her mouth captive, and set her down where they would not be seen, should someone come along the same path.
He settled her carefully, and after a quick glance to be sure she was steady, he swooped down again, his kiss growing even more ardent. No butterfly kisses this time. He nipped and pressed and coaxed and nibbled until her mouth opened and the kiss deepened.
His hands were moving on her. Fingers trailed up and along her arms, sending shivers throughout her frame. He caressed the curve of her neck and all of her small hairs stood at attention. A single finger ran along the edge of her bodice.
He broke the kiss. Stared down at her. She thought he would say something, but he buried his face in her neck instead, spreading hot kisses along her nape. His hand cupped her breast.
Sweet heaven. Her knees felt weak and she was so glad of the elm’s support. She opened her eyes and stared up through the canopy of leaves and branches—giving thanks for him and for this feeling. She’d known she was right to ask him. He was sogoodat this—and he made her feel alive. Even better, he made her feel beautiful and desirable and whole.
The golden fastenings of her overdress gave way beneath his nimble fingers and the two halves sagged away. Now his fingers were busy in the back of her gown. She felt the tapes come undone even as her bodice loosened.
Now there was only her stays and chemise left. He drew back and met her gaze directly as he worked at the laces of the stays. Almost immediately they’d gone loose enough for him to slide his hand in.
