Page 24 of The Viscount's Seduction
“No.” He snatched up her hand. “You look lovely tonight. Stay. Keep me company.”
She tried to pull away but he reached for her other hand.
“Do not do this, sir.”
The anger was giving way to fear, though whether it was real or feigned he couldn’t tell. He drew her closer to the light. Her eyes glowed with that same luminosity he’d noticed at Hackwell’s ball, her lips were plump and inviting, and gold highlights bounced off her dress and her hair. She was a beauty in daylight. By candlelight, she was a goddess, a golden siren. No wonder she’d had to run away from the cousin.
And that thought brought him up. He didn’t ravish women, unless they wanted it. This girl didn’t want it.
Unless he convinced her she did.
He eased in a breath. No. At least, no, not tonight.
“You and I, my lady, we’re looking for the same thing.”
She swallowed hard, her lovely throat jumping. “You are mistaken.”
“Am I? What do you think I’m talking about?”
She pursed her lips. Opened them. “A liaison.”
“An improper one?”
Her brow furrowed. “You’re mocking me now. Let me go.”
“First we should search together.”
“I don’t know what you mean, and we’ll be missed. Both of us gone? Together?” Her eyes became shiny. She’d drummed up some tears. “I’ll be...on the street. I’ll be fortunate if I’m sent back to serve as my cousin’s, my cousin’s—”
“Files, Lady Sirena. Files that sayHollisteron them.”
A tear ran unchallenged down her creamy cheek and her mouth dropped. “Oh.”
He swept the tear away with his finger. So soft her skin was, as he dragged the moisture down to her lips and traced a path over them. Her chest rose, her breasts straining the modest bodice of the yellow gown.
He yanked her closer and settled his lips on hers, and a sharp gasp escaped her before she clamped her mouth shut.
“Just one kiss,” he whispered. He nibbled around her locked lips and stroked the line of her jaw until she shivered in his arms and her lips parted, allowing him entry.
He kissed her then, sweeping his tongue against hers, for long minutes, then tasting her skin, following the path of his fingers along her jaw and down to her neck, inciting a sharp gasp and a moan, and more wriggling. He wanted her, and she wanted him, and—
“Stop.” Her hands locked on his shoulders, pushing.
Heart pounding, he froze. He was a gentleman. Even if she had been no lady—which she most definitely was—he would have stopped. No matter how hard his cock screamed for release, as it did now. “Right.” He stepped back and straightened his neck cloth.
Sirena’s heartpounded so wildly she could barely find breath to speak. “The files,” she said finally.
“Yes. He wouldn’t keep them here in so accessible a location.”
Oh, he was lathered, she could tell, almost as much as herself. This was what was meant by seduction—not the graspy, slobbery, forced thing her cousin had attempted. If not for the housekeeper and butler and a strong dose of laudanum...oh, this was very different, and this man a far more powerful lord than her cousin.
She’d be lucky to survive this night with her maidenhead intact. But she wanted that file. She needed to know what happened to Jamie. “His study then? My father had a room like that.”
“Yes. We’ll look there.” He gazed down that bored nose, straightened his neck cloth, though not so much as a hair of the man was out of place, while inside herself, every nerve was dancing a jig. She pressed a hand to her throat and hoped her heart hadn’t pounded her bodice askew. She daren’t look away first.
Music still played, and a wobbly contralto could be heard. Finally, he turned away, blew out the candles, and took her hand, leading her up the servants’ stairs.
Using the backstairs—it tweaked her pride, but she quickly dismissed the emotion. Lady or no, she was an Irish girl in London with no money or family, and no right to put on airs. And now was no time to take offense. If Shaldon’s heir required her to mop or dust, she’d do it and gladly, and mayhap have more chance to see what the old man was hiding.
