Chapter 1 #2
That one-sided dimple of his appeared once more, determined to charm her again. “You have the advantage of me, for you know my name, but I don’t know yours. Won’t you enlighten me?”
“I’m not that much of a fool,” she quipped.
He merely grinned. “Your distrust pains me to the heart, madam.” He lifted his hands to clasp her shoulders, and she could feel the warmth of them even through her gown. “Perhaps my intentions are honorable. Perhaps I merely want your name, so I’ll know whom to approach with an offer.”
Her inelegant snort only seemed to deepen his amusement.
“Don’t you believe me?” he asked with a mock expression of wounded pride. He slid his hands along her shoulders toward her neck.
In a panic, she pressed against his hard chest. To her surprise, he let her put some distance between them, although he kept his hands resting just above her shoulder blades.
The touch of his fingers against her bared flesh sent delightful tingling sensations down her spine. Which was utterly unacceptable.
“Even if that were true,” she retorted, “and we both know it isn’t, I’d have to refuse you.”
“Why?” He traced light circles along her skin with his thumbs. “I’m told I’m reasonably attractive. I have an adequate income. I’m young and healthy enough to sire a child.” He bent close to whisper, “And I have all my teeth. What more could you need from a husband?”
He’d neglected to mention his title. But then, that was typical Nev. He’d never been impressed by rank.
As if to prod her to answer, he moved his thumbs further in to caress her throat, forcing her to bite her lip to keep from sighing aloud.
“I need a great deal more, I’m afraid,” she whispered before he stole all her resolve. “True affection. Honor. Fidelity—”
“What makes you think I wouldn’t offer those as well?”
The sarcastic words leapt from her mouth before she could stop them. “An unprincipled rogue like you?”
“Ah, so it’s my reputation that gives you pause.” There was an edge to his voice now, and he’d stopped his sensuous movements abruptly. “No doubt you’ve heard of all the women I’ve debauched in my mere twenty-eight years.”
Merciful heavens, she shouldn’t have taunted him.
But she had no idea how to deal with a sophisticated gentleman.
Except for Theresa this summer, there’d been no women to guide her in the ways of men.
Her mind was so scattered by his presence, the only advice she could remember Theresa giving her was, “Stay away from balconies.” She’d already violated that stricture.
“You shouldn’t listen to nasty rumors, madam,” he went on as he curved his hand behind her neck, “but since I’m already held rather low in your esteem, I might as well complete your poor image of me.”
And before she could say another word, he gripped her neck, holding her still as he brought his lips down on hers.
At first, his kiss was as unyielding as the chest she pushed against in a frantic bid for freedom.
But then his mouth softened, molding hers, teasing her breath from her, making her forget why she’d been trying to escape.
She’d dreamed of this for years. Late at night in her bed, she’d wondered what it would be like to have Nev kiss her, and now that the moment was here, she couldn’t bear to make him stop.
He must have felt her acquiescence, for he released his hold on her neck.
With one hand he clasped her waist while the other slid along her jaw in a caress as soft and tempting as the velvet lining of a winter cloak.
He rubbed her lips apart to run his tongue over her teeth.
Then his fingers tightened on her jaw, the gentle pressure urging her mouth open.
When he slid his tongue inside, both shocking and intriguing her, something wild leapt in her belly. Then he touched his rough tongue to hers and swept the inside of her mouth with a sensuous stroke that sent sheer pleasure gathering inside her …
Good Lord. How wicked.
How delicious . . . hot and sweet and wholly unfamiliar.
Her childish imaginings hadn’t prepared her for this heady experience.
While he drew her closer, his tongue probed relentlessly until she lost her balance and swayed against him, her breasts crushed to his chest as he steadied her with surprisingly strong arms.
He shifted against her, and with a shock, she felt him slide a hand up to cup her breast. It jolted her from her dazed state.
“No.” Tearing her mouth from his, she pushed his hand away. He gazed at her with a satisfied expression that only mortified her more. He reached for her, but she backed away, only to come up against the rosebush again. Blast the man, he had her trapped and he knew it.
“Please, my lord,” she heard herself plead. “No more. You’ve chastened me suitably for my hasty words. Now leave me be.”
“You admit that you enjoyed that, do you?”
He was laughing at her for her earlier moral stance, but she didn’t care. She only knew she must escape before he went further. “I’m not a liar. I . . . I enjoyed it very much. Then again,” she added dryly, “I’d have to be dead not to.”
Something flickered deep in his eyes before he lifted his hand to clasp her chin. “After a compliment like that, surely you don’t think I shall simply walk away.”
He started to lower his head to hers once more, and a feeling of despair washed over her. If she let him kiss her again, she wouldn’t be able to resist any of his seductions. “Please don’t,” she begged. “Please, Nev . . .”
He paused inches from her, surprise passing over his face. “Only my sister calls me that. How did you--”
He broke off as someone gasped behind him.
Nev jerked back from her, giving Althea a sudden glimpse of who’d seen them. Oh, dear, it was Theresa.
“Is that you, Althea?” As the marquess unwittingly moved to get a better look at the woman, light flooded Althea’s face. “It is you! Lord have mercy!”
And before Althea could make any kind of protest, Theresa whirled and fled back into the ballroom.
“Wonderful,” Althea muttered. “Now she’ll tell my uncle. Please, you must leave at once.”
She swung her gaze back to the marquess, but his expression had changed, and he was staring at her intently.
“Althea? Isabella’s little friend, Kensingham’s niece?
” He stroked her hair. “God help me, I should have realized. You always had that honey hair . . . those expressive eyes—” He broke off as she dropped her gaze, embarrassed but absurdly pleased to discover he remembered her.
When he continued, amusement threaded his tone. “You’ve certainly filled out nicely since the last time I saw you.” His voice lowered to a rumble. “Kensingham must be fighting off the suitors with a stick.”
Blood crawled up her neck and into her cheeks. “He’ll be fighting you off with a sword if you don’t leave. Didn’t you hear what I said? Theresa will bring him here, and that won’t do.”
“I suppose it wouldn’t.” He released her, but to her surprise, bent down on one knee.
With steady fingers, he began to work her satin skirts free from the rose brambles.
“But it will take time for her to find him in this crush, and I can’t leave you trapped for some other rakehell to discover when I can have you free in a moment. ”
“No! If Uncle Winston should find us together, I’ll be in trouble!”
He ignored her. “Your panniers are caught fast, and there’s no time to work them loose, so you’ll have to get out of them.
” She felt him lift her skirts and petticoat in back.
She gasped, but he was already undoing the pannier ribbons.
In desperation, she grasped his shoulders, trying to push him away.
Then everything happened at once. The ribbons came loose. Her panniers slipped down, leaving the marquess with her skirts draped over his left shoulder.
And her uncle burst onto the balcony.
She groaned as Uncle Winston roared. She could only imagine what a sight they made, with Nev kneeling half beneath her skirts and her hands clutching his shoulders as if for support.
The marquess quickly rose and she stepped out of her cursed panniers.
But it hardly mattered that Nev had freed her, since her uncle was striding forward in a fury as Theresa rushed in behind him, wringing her hands.
“You bastard!” Uncle Winston spat. “You damned lecher!”
Nev’s features were calm as he brushed dirt from his breeches with a casual nonchalance that only seemed to infuriate her uncle more. “Good evening, Kensingham.”
How could he stand there so coolly? Didn’t he know what trouble he was in? She forced herself between the two men, alarmed by the murderous glint in her uncle’s eyes. “Please, Uncle Winston, this isn’t what it appears.”
“The hell it isn’t!”
“It was clumsy of me, I know,” she went on, her voice rising in her effort to convince him, “but I fell over that rosebush and caught my panniers in it. Lord Foxworth was merely helping me get free. That’s all it was.”
Her uncle’s jaw tightened. “So Theresa only imagined that she saw him kissing you, did she?”
“I-I … well …”
Her uncle swore, then glowered at the marquess. “I should have expected this of you, Foxworth. Seducing a young woman and getting her to cover your tracks is typical of you.”
“Uncle Winston!” Althea protested, hurt by his characteristic lack of faith in her. “I would never let him—”
“I’m not speaking to you, Althea,” her uncle bit out. “Go back in the ballroom and stay there until Foxworth and I are through.”
Her uncle had often spoken to her in such imperious tones. But this time was different. She’d never seen him this furious, his black eyes aflame and every muscle tight with anger. She could only imagine what would happen if she left the two men alone together.
“Your uncle’s right, Lady Althea,” Foxworth bit out. “This has nothing to do with you. You and I both know you’re innocent of wrongdoing, so ’tis best you leave him and me to sort out our differences.”