Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
C aroline’s world caught fire. There was no hesitation, no gentleness in the way the earl kissed her. His mouth claimed hers, firm and insistent, parting her lips in a kiss that was deep, open-mouthed, and sensual. A gasp caught in her throat, but before she could draw breath, he tilted his head and kissed her deeper. A slow, intoxicating slide of lips and tongue that sent a sharp, unfamiliar heat spiraling through her body. Caroline’s fingers curled into his coat, gripping the heavy fabric as her knees threatened to weaken.
“How sweet you taste,” he murmured against her lips, his voice thick and sinful.
A tremor raced down her spine. Then his tongue swept inside, teasing, stroking, demanding a response she didn’t even know she was capable of giving. Another sound—helpless wanting—escaped her, and he answered with a groan, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss, their tongues tangling in a way that sent her pulse spiraling wildly.
A raw, unexpected hunger unfurled beneath her skin, its heat curling through her like a slow-burning fire. Caroline’s heart pounded, the rhythm exhilarating and terrifying all at once.
This was nothing like she imagined a first kiss to be.
It was chaos and possession, pleasure and recklessness, and oh, how she wanted more. Panic flickered beneath the pleasure, and with a sudden breathless sound, she wrenched her mouth away, her lips tingling, swollen. Her cheek brushed against his jaw, the rough scrape of his stubble a startling contrast to the heated softness of his mouth. For one fleeting second, she lingered, pressing her face into the crook of his throat, inhaling the warm, clean scent of him—of spice and winter air. Then she pushed away, heart hammering, turning her back to him before she did something truly foolish. Heat poured into her cheeks, her body still trembling from the force of his kiss.
She was mortified.
She was thrilled.
And worst of all …
Caroline knew she would never forget the way he kissed her. “My lord, I—”
“Daniel,” he murmured. “Permit me the liberty of calling you Caroline.”
She hesitated, still unable to look over her shoulder at him. “Should I gather my quill and ink?” she asked huskily.
His low chuckle sent a shiver along her spine. “No need. I wanted to kiss you far too badly, and it provided the perfect excuse.”
A wicked thrill rushed through her, sharp and exhilarating. She forced herself to suppress it, reminding herself of who he was—and who she was not.
He desired her. But not as a potential wife. As a lover. A mistress .
As if it were an afterthought, he added, “The wooden horse is yours.”
Caroline inhaled, then exhaled softly. “Good night … Daniel.”
Finally, she turned, meeting his gaze. “Thank you for keeping me company in the tree.”
Then, before she could second-guess herself, before the dangerous warmth in his gaze unraveled her further, she stepped toward the chaise. Daniel studied her for a long moment, his gaze lingering on her face. Then, with a slow, almost reluctant nod, he turned and walked to the door.
Caroline didn’t move. She didn’t breathe until she heard the quiet click of the door closing behind him. Then, as if jolted back into motion, she hurried across the room, pressing the lock into place with trembling fingers. Her heart pounded so fiercely she feared it might burst from her chest. She stood there for a long moment, staring at the door, her body still humming from his kiss.
Finally, she exhaled, pressing a shaking hand to her mouth.
Dear God . She could still taste him—warm, sinful, devastatingly male. Caroline squeezed her eyes shut, willing away the memory of the wicked heat of his lips, the way his tongue had tangled with hers, the deep, unexpected pleasure that had curled through her like fire licking at dry parchment.
A shudder worked its way through her, and she forced herself into action, reaching for the ties of her clothes. She peeled away her coat, trousers, and boots, each layer falling to the floor in haste. Then she pulled her night rail over her head, the cool fabric doing nothing to chase away the lingering heat of Daniel’s touch.
With quick steps, she slipped beneath the coverlets, burrowing deep into the warmth of her bed, tugging the blankets up to her chin. But sleep did not come quickly. Not when her body still thrummed with awareness, when her lips still tingled from his kiss.
Daniel was dangerous.
Not in the way of villains and scoundrels, but in the way a man could unravel a woman with nothing but his presence.
With a look. A touch. A kiss.
She could not—would not—allow it to happen again. Because it would never be more than this. He had been brutally honest about what kind of man he was. Men like him—wealthy, titled, powerful—did not court women like her.
They seduced them.
Made them whispered scandals before casting them aside to marry someone more suitable. She had seen it before. Caroline had even received two such distasteful offers in the past—men who masked their intentions with false courtship and empty words, only to later reveal their true desires.
But Daniel?
He had not tried to deceive her.
He had told her exactly what he was, and worse—he had shown her. And somewhere deep inside her, that honesty unsettled her most of all. With a soft, weary sigh, Caroline turned onto her side, her fingers curled into the sheets, her pulse finally slowing.
She would not think of him anymore.
She would not let him slip into her thoughts, into her dreams.
Yet, as her eyelids grew heavy, the memory of his dark, hungry gaze lingered.
And she knew—
She was already lost.