Page 32 of Lord Carlisle's Enticing Lure
Only for breath did he tear his lips from hers.
“Come upstairs.”
His burning brain barely fathomed her words.
She drew his face down to hers with a hand to his nape and kissed him with an urgency he’d rarely known from a woman.
“Come. Won’t you?”
He’d be a fool to deny her or himself. But he had to be wise, goslowly—not devour her but treasure her. “Leave me first,” he told her, his mouth to her ear. “I will follow in a few minutes.”
“Come now.”
“I can’t, sweetheart.” He grasped her hand and put it to his lower belly. He dare not move it lower, but her blue eyes flickered in knowledge and delight. He smiled, but the pain of parting from her was like cold water to his veins. “Go.”
She drew away, unsure, yet eager. “You’ll hurry?”
He put a finger to her mouth and drew her soft, plush lower lip down. “I am there now. Go!”
She picked up her skirts and disappeared into the ballroom in a wild rustle of royal-purple silk.
He ran a hand through his hair. Was he foolish? Did he care?
Yes! For her!
And logic—that element which had ruled his life since his marriage failed—flew to the stars.
He bit his lip. He must not regret this night. He’d go upstairs. He had promised. He’d walk inside her rooms, and yes, by God, he would kiss her again.
But that would be all. That would be enough for tonight.
Chapter Twelve
She flew intoher rooms, flinging wide the door, anticipation thumping in her heart. She wanted this man. It was silly, girlish, daring to want a man she barely knew. But he was kind and honorable. She knew that in her bones.
And he is infatuated with me.
She stood, stock still, her gaze on the square patch of hall carpet, and willed him to appear. She closed her eyes and, in her enchantment, saw him before her. Tall and sturdy, a bulwark against the winds and misfortunes of life, a magnificent man who appealed to every one of her senses. Silver and gold, indelibly etched on her mind as a jewel of a man.
Yes, she wanted him. He was gentleman enough to care for her reputation. He was enchanted enough to accept her invitation.
And if he doesn’t come?
Sorrow pierced her like an arrow to her chest. Well, then, if he did not come, he was kind enough to ignore her impulsiveness and save her face. They could be friends, if not lovers.
Certainly, there was that.
But in a second, there he was, standing at her door, not crossing unless she would still take him.
Joy flashed through her as she strode forward, her fists clenched on his formal black frockcoat, to lead him inside.
He walked toward her, his handsome face that of a boy who asks for nothing in this world but kindness. “If you have changed your mind—”
“Non.” She pulled him toward her.
He came…like a sleepwalker, but shut the door behind him with a foot to the wood. In the next moment, she was in his arms once more. He had her up against him, her height no issue, as he had her up off her feet.
His lips on hers, she clasped him tightly to her, his shoulders, his strength, the silk of his hair through her fingers all she cared to have.
