Page 8 of The Viscount and the Vixen
“I was striving to make conversation, my lord. I don’t care whether he goes out. I obtained the answers to the questions that mattered to me.”
“Perhaps I should read your correspondence. I’d like to know what questions mattered to you.”
“I’m an open book, my lord.”
“I very much doubt that.”
“You are a suspicious sort.”
“Am I wrong?”
No, he wasn’t. She had secrets she would keep carefully guarded from him, from his father. She doubted the marquess would mind, but she suspected his son would care a great deal. Marsden merely wanted an heir. Locksley wanted to understand her. “I assume you go to London for the Season.”
She would welcome the months he was away.
“Occasionally. Not as often as I should. I don’t like leaving my father alone. Although it appears he can get into as much mischief when I’m here as he can when I’m gone.”
“With me about, you won’t be leaving him alone. You can go to London as much as you like. I’ve also heard you enjoy traveling. Where do you plan to venture off to next?”
“I haven’t journeyed anywhere in a couple of years now. Have no plans to in the near future.”
“But again, with me here, you’re free to do whatever you wish, go wherever you want.”
“Why am I left with the impression that you’re striving to be rid of me?”
Because she was and he was no fool. Still, she knew the value of a good bluff. “I’m simply trying to be a suitablemotherto you. Give you some freedom. Lessen your burdens.”
Unfolding his arms, he stepped forward and touched his thumb to her lips, before very slowly outlining them, his gaze homed in on her mouth. Heat slammed into her. While he was only caressing the edges, it felt as though he was tracing his thumb along the very essence of her.
“I have to confess, Mrs.Gadstone, that I’m going to have a very difficult time viewing you as my mother.”
“You promised to behave.” Sounding breathless, her voice raspy, every aspect of her body attuned to his, she cursed him for his ability to stir to life what she was striving so hard to keep banked.
“So I did. But you are not yet wed. It seems like we should at least have a taste of each other before you are.”
He moved in. Her hand shot up to the center of his chest, his firm hard chest. Beneath her fingers she could feel the steady thudding of his heart, the tension riffling through him. “No.”
His eyes became heavy lidded, slumberous. “Afraid you’ll like it too much?”
Terrified that she would indeed be enamored of it. Although he was no doubt testing her loyalty. “I’m betrothed to your father.”
He angled his head slightly. “Betrothed is a bit of a stretch, isn’t it? You answered an advert. It’s not as though he caught sight of you across a ballroom floor, became ensnared by your beauty, and courted you. Before today, you’d never met.”
“Still, we are to marry.”
“What can it hurt to simply have a sample?” In spite of her hand pushing on him, he managed to lean in until his breath skimmed over her cheek. “He’ll never know.”
“I’ll know.”
“So you are afraid. I’d wager you’re as aware of me as I am of you.”
“You’d lose that wager.”
“Prove it.” His lips, soft and warm, landed at the corner of her mouth. “Prove you’re not drawn to me, that there is naught between us.” He pressed his lips to the other corner. “Surely your resolve to marry my father will not be undone by one kiss.”
It was dangerous, so very dangerous. She needed to shove him away, knew it was the wise course, but her strength seemed to leave her while he nibbled on her lower lip. Her eyes slid closed as the heat swamped her. His tenderness took her off guard. It had been so long since anyone had shown her any tenderness, since anyone had enticed her with a light lapping at the seam of her mouth. She couldn’t prevent the moan from escaping, and in the sound he must have heard her surrender, because the gentleness receded and his mouth came down on hers, hot and hard, hungry and greedy. She should push him aside, kick him, step on his foot, but the awareness had been shimmering between them since he’d opened the door. He was young and virile. Where was the harm in one last kiss of youth, of being held in strong, sturdy arms, of having her breasts flattened against a firm, broad chest? Everything within her screamed that she should run. But his mouth was working its delicious, glorious magic.
And she melted against him.
