Page 64 of Burning Secrets of a Lady's Pen
He needed her like he needed air.
His lips closed over hers as he pulled her to him one last time, savoring the two separate tastes of her commingling on his tongue. It was only when her breath began to quicken that he remembered himself and pulled back.
It was Imelda who leaned forward, her hand tangling in his hair as if she meant to pull him back. It soothed some part of him he hadn’t even realized was disquieted, his lips curving as he let go of her fully and took a half-step back.
“If I keep kissing you, Imelda, I won’t be able to walk away even to rejoin the party.” He’d sooner throw her over his shoulder and abscond with her. “To hell with who might walk in. I won’t care.”
Imelda made a noise as if she didn’t believe him, but her face was aflame as she scrambled off of the vanity he had perched her upon.
“You had better go out before me,” Imelda murmured, still blushing furiously. “I don’t think I could stand to leave you right now.”
Her words, like her actions before, reached him in a way he hadn’t expected.
“There will be a time when neither one of us has to,” he promised her seriously, turning before he could be tempted back to her once more. “Sometime soon.”
Just not soon enough.
He grimaced as he left the dressing room, checking the wings for any lurking bodies before hurrying away from the door and back toward the still-lively sound of the party.
He would do his rounds and then he would leave. This was only supposed to be a quick stop on the way to the Earl. He hadn’t meant to become so sidetracked. But he’d seen Imelda walking off on her own and he’d been overcome with a need just to see her, if only for a moment.
His lips twitched as he realized he had left with so much more than that.
“Oh, good! Lord Salthouse!”
And his mood almost soured just as quickly.
Theodore Fellowes hurried over to him, his eyes scanning Corin suspiciously before he tried to peer around him.
“Have you seen Miss Merrit?” Theodore asked pompously, his head thrice swelled from when Corin had seen him last. “I was just looking for her.”
He’d seen more of ‘Miss Merrit’ than Theodore Fellowes ever would. But he wasn’t about to say as much. At least they could put that status-climbing fool out of the running for whoever had walked in on them.
“I’m afraid not,” Corin lied smoothly. “Although I was hoping to wish you well on your opening night tomorrow night.”
Theodore grinned, Imelda quickly forgotten. “Ah, yes! I am looking forward to it.” He took a breath as if to launch into some self-congratulatory speech, but Corin was having none of it.
“As you should. If you’ll excuse me, of course, I have some business to attend to.”
Corin didn’t wait around to see if Theodore excused him or not. He only watched long enough to see the man get irritated before heading happily off to another bunch of fans, his voice carrying as he called out to them.
Which was as well, considering that Imelda was hurrying across the floor then for her aunt and uncle.
Damn it all to hell.
Sir John and Lady Merrit had been his last people to see before he left.
He knew if he went over there now, though, and was faced with having to walk away from Imelda again that he wouldn’t be able to do it. Their eyes met across the room, and he offered her a brief smile before turning to head back toward the entrance.
He would leave.
He would leave before he could be enticed into staying, and God only knew it already sounded better than it should.
Imelda had looked torn, looking at him, and he wondered if she didn’t catch that fringe of desperation before he turned away from her.
He hoped that she hadn’t. If she had, then she would feel the need to ask him what was wrong again. And it had been hard enough not telling her the very first time.
“Lord Salthouse!”
