Page 4 of Once More, My Darling Rogue
Half a step back.
“Dance with me,” he said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me.”
She angled up her chin. “I don’t dance with commoners.”
“What are you afraid of?”
“I don’t fear anything.”
“Liar.”
She darted her gaze to the left, the right. Without her noticing, he had managed to maneuver her into the shadows of an alcove and was now barring her way. Those she had been visiting with earlier were nowhere about. She should have known that Avendale and Langdon would side with this blackguard and escort her friends onto the dance floor, into the gardens, or off for refreshments. Blast them! Still, she’d not be intimidated by the likes of Drake Darling. “You, sir, are despicable.”
“And you’re a haughty miss who needs to be taught a lesson.”
“I suppose you think you’re the man to do it.”
His eyes darkened, his gaze dropped to her lips, and she found herself taking three quick steps back. “Don’t you dare,” she whispered, hating that her voice sounded more like a plea than a demand.
“You’ve been poking the tiger for some years now. You can’t always expect him to remain docile.”
He had the right of it there. She didn’t know why she had continually singled him out. Perhaps because she sensed a darkness in him, one that called to her, one that was dangerous to welcome.
“You’re making a spectacle of us,” she pointed out.
“We’re in the shadows. No one is paying us any heed at all.”
Like some great hulking predator, he advanced on her. While she knew it to be unwise, she retreated farther into the alcove until her back hit the wall. Her heart beat out an unsteady tattoo. Within her gloves, her palms grew damp. “If you do anything untoward, I’ll scream.”
He laughed darkly. “And risk being caught with a guttersnipe? I think not.”
“You’re a black-hearted scoundrel.”
“Which is exactly why I intrigue you. You’re bored with all the fancy gents hovering around you. They’d never think of touching you with ungloved hands.”
She caught her breath as his warm, rough hand cradled the left side of her face. Such a massive hand, his fingers easing into her hair, the edge of his palm against her jaw, the pad of his thumb stroking her cheek.
“You’re bored with gentlemen running about doing your bidding,” he continued.
“I’m not bored.” She hated how breathless she sounded, as though she’d been running up a never-ending hill. Her chest felt tight, painful.
“You’re spoiled because everyone gives you what you want. You’ve never had to work for anything. Not even a gentleman’s attentions or affections.”
“You know nothing at all about me.” Her voice came out small, frightened. In her heart of hearts, she knew he wouldn’t physically harm her, nor would he do anything to damage her reputation. Grace would never forgive him, and if she’d learned anything over the years, it was that he desperately wanted to please Grace and her family. But she feared he had the ability to glimpse into her shattered soul. Like called to like, dark to dark.
“I know more than you think, Lady Ophelia. Understand more than you can possibly imagine. You’ll marry some proper lord, but I suspect you would very much like to waltz with the devil first.”
“You’re quite mistaken.”
“Prove it.”
Before she could respond, he settled his pliant mouth over hers. It was softer than she’d expected, hotter. His thumb grazed the corner of her mouth, over and over, as though it were part of the kiss. She felt his tongue outlining the seam between her lips, before tracing the outer edges. Once, twice, then returning to the center, but no longer content with the surface. With an insistence that should have frightened her, he urged her to part her lips. His tongue slid through, gliding over hers, velvet and silk. Inviting her to explore, to know the intimacies of his mouth as he was discovering hers.
She should have been repelled, horrified. Instead she was entranced, drawn into sensations such as she’d never experienced. He was so terribly talented at eliciting delicious responses that began at the tips of her toes and swirled ever upward, a tingling of nerve endings, a lethargic warmth, that weakened her knees, her resolve to push him away.
