Chapter Three #2
If there hadn’t been a trace of sweet, sharp champagne on her damned tongue as he fenced with hers, he might have left her alone.
But there was that added fuel, and he kissed her as if he would eat her up.
The feel of her in his arms with her lips on his and her tongue sliding along his made him far too randy.
Heat shot through his shaft to harden it so quickly that it pressed against the front of his evening breeches.
Pausing, merely to do something as pedestrian as breathe, when he claimed her mouth for a third time, it set fire to his blood; the lady was no slouch at such things.
And damn it all, he needed more from her.
“Shit, I want to taste you.” When he hooked his fingers into the low bodice of her gown and yanked it down to bare her more than modest bosom, she made no protest. The second he took one of the hard, pebbled tips into his mouth and teased it with his tongue, a gasp escaped her followed by a moan of obvious enjoyment.
“Merciful heavens,” she said in a breathless whisper as she clung to his lapels. “What are you doing?”
“Pleasuring your breasts, and in a few minutes, I’m going to bury my face between your thighs then fuck you so hard you’ll have trouble walking out to your father’s carriage.
” It wasn’t well done of him to say that aloud, but then, he was having difficulties thinking upon anything beyond the needs of his body.
There certainly wasn’t any caution present.
“Oh, goodness. I hadn’t planned for this…” As her words trailed off, she drew a hand down his chest and over his abdomen until she drifted her fingertips along his stiffened shaft. “The rumors about you weren’t wrong.”
That both amused and mollified his quick burst of annoyance at her innocent fumblings. “Well, I do enjoy bedding women.” When she stroked her fingers down his shaft, he sucked in a breath, for too much handling would have him spending prematurely.
“Hold. Let me.” Dante batted at her hands, and when he turned slightly away from her in order to manipulate his front falls, his own grasp on fine motor skills was a bit askew.
Finally, he released the buttons from their holes and when he turned back to kiss her again, she was poised to strike with a knife in her hand, the jeweled hilt of which glittered in the low light. “What the devil?”
“You killed my brother who would never hurt a soul, so now you’ll go up to the drawing room and tell the beau monde exactly what you did.”
“I don’t even know your damned brother! Hell, I had no idea you existed until twenty minutes ago.” When the insane woman came toward him, Dante stumbled backward. Not seeing a footstool with an embroidered, cushioned top, he lost his balance and tripped over it. “Ack!”
That was when the evening grew worse. As he went sprawling and landed on his back on the low sofa, the heel of one of his shoes was caught in the hem of her gown.
The sound of fabric ripping filled his ears, and since he couldn’t manage to free his shoe from the length of fabric, as he fell, he inadvertently brought her with him.
Miss Courtney landed heavily atop him. One of her feet jostled the table and in turn knocked a vase of flowers to the floor.
It smashed against the wood with a sound that seemed overly loud to his ears.
“Let me go!” Apparently, the baron’s daughter had enough wherewithal to still wish to hold the tip of the knife to his chest. That sharp little triangle bit his skin through the fabric while she straddled his waist, her breasts still on display and her skirting rucked up about her thighs to display her stockings and garters.
He gripped her upper arms in an effort to keep the blade from his neck. “Like hell I will. You’re trying to fucking kill me!” That knowledge sobered him up faster than being dunked in cold water.
Before she could respond, shouts echoed down the corridor, for, of course, the guests who were in the library next door would have heard the commotion in the parlor.
Seconds later, the door flew open to crash against the wall.
A handful of people poured into the room.
That was when the magnitude of the situation streaked through the light pickling of his brain.
Clearly, to the onlookers, it appeared as if the two of them were in a compromising position, for Miss Courtney’s breasts hung out of her gown and his prick was in a nearly full salute.
With a soft curse, the lady surreptitiously slipped the knife into a slim sheath strapped to one of her pale thighs. It would have been incredibly erotic had she not just tried to end his life.
“Well, damn,” he said as he unceremoniously dumped her off his person. She landed in an undignified heap at the other end of the brocade sofa. “This isn’t what you assume.” Swiftly, he stood, and when that action was far too quick and his head went fuzzy again, he swayed on his feet.
“What the devil, Udolpho?” This from the host of the evening, the Duke of Nottingham from his club. “You thought to have a bit of slap and tickle in my parlor without locking the door?”
“I didn’t initially, but Miss Courtney lured me down here with promises in her eyes.” As if that explanation would make it better.
“We heard a scream, thought someone needed assistance…” The man speaking was Baron Hampton, because of course it was. “Anne? What the deuce are you doing in here?”
“Nothing that needs to concern you, Papa,” the young woman said as she wrenched her bodice back into place then gained her feet. “I was striving to set things right, by the way.”
Nottingham’s grin seemed out of place for the farce.
When his soon-to-be wife joined him, she took one look at the situation and then they exchanged slightly cheeky glances.
“You know, Udolpho, I wouldn’t blame the baron if he demands that you marry his daughter.
After all, you’ve compromised the hell out of her. ”
“What?” Why the devil would the man say such a thing? “She started it! I don’t even know her name, but the bitch tried to stab me with a knife!”
Everyone erupted into conversation at the same time. The cacophony filled the room and assaulted his ears. Meanwhile, Miss Courtney had humiliation written across her face. A furious blush filled her cheeks, and her blue eyes shot angry daggers at him. Fitting, that.
Eventually, the baron raised a hand for silence. “In order to keep gossip to a minimum and in light of what we all witnessed when we arrived in the room, there is only one solution.” He rested his gaze on Miss Courtney. “Mr. Cunningham will need to marry my daughter.”
“What?” The lady stamped a slipped foot. “I would rather die than marry the likes of him.”
Dante rounded on her, for this evening had gone from bad to worse. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Me? What are you talking about? You’re the one with a black soul.”
He couldn’t argue on that point. “You tried to kill me.”
“It’s better than you deserve.”
Why did she want to kill him? Surely, he wouldn’t be expected to wed an assassin. “Clearly, you’re insane. I shouldn’t have to wed someone not quite right in the head.”
Baron Hampton wasn’t amused. He crossed his arms at his chest. “I would require a word in private, Mr. Cunningham.” Then he turned to his wife, who’d just arrived at the door.
“Please escort Anne and her sisters home. There are things I would discuss with this gentleman, and I use that moniker lightly.”
“Of course.” The baroness nodded. “How long will you be here?”
“I don’t know. It largely depends on him.” He gestured to Dante with his chin.
Miss Courtney shook her head. “I’m not going to marry him, and I refuse to go home with her.” With her chin held high, she marched across the room, pushed through the gathered crowds, and then left the parlor.
Bloody hell.
Though he wondered why there was bad blood between her and the baroness, he shoved that thought to the back of his mind, for ultimately, he didn’t care.
At least not in this moment. With a withering glance at her back, he then trained his gaze on Averly and his wife, and after that, he bounced it to Blackhawke, who lingered at the edge of the crowd with an expression that said, “I told you thusly,” Dante had no choice but to follow the baron.
Bah. This is just one more reason to despise the Christmastide season. Everyone was out to leverage their place in society or part a man from his coin.