Page 50 of Beyond Scandal and Desire
“He’s a man of patience, then.”
She didn’t know why he sounded so disgruntled by the notion. “And one prone to indulging the ladies in his life. I’ve never heard him have a harsh or unkind word for his duchess. Whatever she wishes, he accommodates.”
“Is that what you want? A man who never challenges you?”
With her mouth open and no words pouring forth, she stared at him like she was a carp tossed onto shore.
“I believe you’d grow bored with him after a time,” he continued.
Goodness gracious, it hit her as though she’d been struck by lightning: she did find Kip boring—at least when compared against Mick Trewlove. She shouldn’t be comparing them, and she realized she been doing exactly that from the moment she spied Mick sauntering toward them at Cremorne as though he owned the night and everything within it. “Where is the damned hansom?”
A corner of his mouth kicked up. “The lady uses profanity. I’d have not thought.”
“It’s late and the lady is tired.”
“I can let you a room for the night.” A room to which he no doubt had a key. “There should be more cabbies about in the morning. At the very least it’ll be safer to walk about searching for one.”
She shook her head. “I’ll wait. It can’t be much longer, and I’d hate for your man to go to all that bother and then have to send the hansom on its way.” She went to take another sip of the cognac, discovered her glass empty. How had that happened?
“Would you care for more?”
“No.”
Apparently he didn’t believe her as he took her glass, replaced it with his. She didn’t want to consider that it tasted richer because his mouth had been against the rim.
“You’ve never been kissed before.”
Indignation raced through her. “I most certainly have.”
“He didn’t do a very good job of it, then.”
He hadn’t. She hated that he knew it, that he probably guessed correctly who’d kissed her. “You didn’t seem repulsed by my efforts.”
“On the contrary, you’re remarkable. Yet in the beginning you hesitated to part your lips, seemed surprised by my . . . urgings.”
“I will admit to being taken off guard by your unusual method of kissing.”
He chuckled darkly. “Unusual? Sweetheart, any man who is kissing you properly is going to want his tongue in your mouth, your tongue in his.”
The sensations slammed into her as though his mouth was once again claiming hers with a ferocity that bordered on barbaric. “Must we analyze what transpired in your office?”
She had no idea what he might have said because Jones chose that moment to hurry into the room. Thank goodness. She started to rise—
“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t find a hackney anywhere.”
She sank back down. Blast it all. How had she come to be in this awkward position?
“Thank you, Jones. I know you did your best.”
“Aye, sir.” The man strode out as though he couldn’t leave fast enough.
“A room or the carriage?” Mick asked.
Chapter 12
As his carriage traveled swiftly through the nearly vacated streets, he fought not to be disappointed that she’d chosen the carriage over a bed in his hotel. He had an irrational urge for her to christen every single one of them. He’d known eventually they’d end up in the carriage together because he’d instructed Jones to stay beyond sight for an hour and then return with the news no hansom was to be found. Although she didn’t want him kissing her, didn’t want him touching her, he’d insisted on traveling with her.
He couldn’t explain this irrational need he had just to be with her, to give her something Kipwick hadn’t. Or the jealousy that had coursed through him when she’d confirmed the earl had kissed her. While she hadn’t given him a name, he knew her betrothed was the only man to whom she would have given that privilege. Her kissing Mick had been an aberration. Although his ego took a measure of satisfaction in knowing she might have found the earl’s kiss lacking in passion, another part of him didn’t like learning that Kipwick might not be giving her his all. She deserved everything a man had to offer.
