Part 18 (1/2)
He ran his fingers over her cheek and down to her gray-blue gown, which was wrinkled from her having lain on the settee all day.
He tsked. ”I do not like that color on you. You should wear reds, Roza. Like the flower you resemble. I will buy you many gowns, all red. You will wear those.”
She lifted her head so she could see him. ”Stop princing.”
”Princing? What is that?”
”You may be a prince in Oxenburg, but this isn't your country.” Her voice grew louder, and she poked him in the chest with her finger. ”I'm not a subject, and I won't take orders from you like a serf.”
He chuckled as if richly amused, and stretched an arm across the back of the settee. ”My beautiful Roza, we don't have serfs in Oxenburg. But if we did, you would be a very bad one. Always you argue. Never you do as asked.”
She opened her mouth to retort that she would make a very good serf, but the absurdity of the idea made her choke on a short laugh. ”I'm rather proud of being a bad serf.”
His gaze swept over her. ”Fortunately, I like a woman with pride.”
And she liked that he enjoyed her, unfettered and uncensored. That he didn't mind if she poked him in the chest while making a point, or that her hair was uncombed and her gown wrinkled. . . . She liked a lot about this man. Too much.
She snuggled her head back on his shoulder and sighed against his neck. ”Ah, Alexsey, what are we to do?”
His arms tightened about her and for a moment, she thought he wasn't going to answer. Then he tipped up her face to his. ”Has anyone ever told you that you think too much?”
She nodded. ”Everyone who knows me.”
He kissed her nose. ”They are right.”
Feeling surrounded by him, protected, she looked up at him through her lashes. ”My stepmother and sisters might return soon. I don't wish you to get caught.”
”Nyet. They won't be home for another hour, at least. The dinner was very elaborate and there was talk of whist being played afterward.”
”You're certain?”
”Positive. People were quite animated.”
She eyed him up and down. ”I can't believe you pleaded a headache and anyone believed it.”
”To a.s.suage any suspicion, I hinted to my host that I had an a.s.signation with a willing housemaid.”
”So you came to visit me . . . and nothing more?”
His gaze raked over her. ”I will not pretend I don't wish to touch you, Bronwyn. I will not pretend you haven't been tormenting my thoughts.”
She, the most nonthreatening woman on the face of the earth, had been tormenting the thoughts of a handsome prince? She fought the desire to smile. ”There are far more beautiful women out there than me. Sorcha, for instance.”
”You are beautiful in the way I like. Sorcha is not.”
”You can't deny her beauty.”
”Why not? You are denying yours.”
She stared at him, surprised. ”I . . . I suppose I was.”
”Roza, every time I look at you, I see your s.h.i.+ning hair, your warm eyes, the light of your smile, your full b.r.e.a.s.t.s, your-”
”Yes, yes.” Her face felt as if it were afire, for his eyes had followed the progression of his speech. ”That's very flattering. But my stepmother has hopes you'll notice Sorcha.”
He couldn't have looked more uninterested. ”Roza, do you not understand? This attraction we have is rare. This spark we have, it does not happen often.”
”Spark?”
His eyes darkened. ”When I do this . . .” He traced a finger along her collarbone, lingering in the hollows, his skin warm against hers.
She s.h.i.+vered, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s peaking, a sigh escaping from her lips.
His arm tightened about her. ”That is what happens between us. I have met your sister several times, and there is nothing between us. You cannot make a spark where none exists.”
He rested his hand on her knee, his voice warm. ”Enough about your sister. We have too little time, my sweet. Far too little.”
Though there were layers of skirt and petticoats between his hand and her skin, the warmth and weight of his hand set off a reaction so strong, she nearly gasped. Her body had tightened, her skin p.r.i.c.kled awake, and her b.r.e.a.s.t.s tingled as if aching for his touch. Good G.o.d, I'm lost.
He cupped her chin, turning her face toward his, then removed her spectacles and placed them on the side table. ”I would see you without these.”
Humor, pa.s.sion, and intelligence shone in his eyes. His jaw bespoke a strong character, while the gentleness of his hands left her aching for more. There was so much about this man that she liked. He'd called the way her body reacted to his a spark; she'd call it an out-and-out fire.
She yearned for him like a woman starved. And suddenly, looking into his eyes, she didn't care about doing the right thing. She didn't care about the future.
She grasped his coat, leaned up, and kissed him.
Roland, hidden in the shrubs, looked toward the noise. Lucinda was walking through the roses, her fingertips brus.h.i.+ng the petals of the flowers. He watched as she came closer, ever closer to him and farther away from the dangers of the dark castle, her gown tugged by the playful wind, her long blond hair tossed about her face. Soon he would reveal himself to her, and watch her eyes light with love and- A crunch on the pathway made him crouch lower.
Someone else was coming. And just like that, the moment was lost.
-The Black Duke by Miss Mary Edgeworth Alexsey's large hands grasped her waist as he slid her into his lap without breaking the kiss, and she s.h.i.+vered and pressed against him.
This is it. This is what I want! Everywhere he touched, everywhere she wished him to touch, was aflame with longing and desire, answered need and unanswered yearning. She wound her arms about his neck, pressing her chest to his, trying to get closer.
His lips covered and offered, gave and took. Bronwyn s.h.i.+vered against him and offered herself without reservation.
Each kiss tantalized and teased, and washed away more and more of the haze the medicine held over her. His caresses grew bolder, stronger, his hands moving over her back, her hips, to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s- She gasped as his thumb found her nipple even through her gown and chemise, and she pressed her breast into his hand, wanting, needing- His kiss turned fierce, letting her know that he, too, was aflame with need. She moaned against his mouth.
He broke the kiss to nuzzle her neck, his breath harsh. ”Roza, Roza,” he murmured, punctuating the words with kisses. ”You feel so good. You belong in my arms.”
She opened her eyes. She belonged in his arms? No, no, no. He was supposed to feel as if he belonged in her arms. Blast it, she'd forgotten her purpose once again.
How could she switch this, turn this into her win and not his? What had she learned in her books . . . ? Oh yes.
But would that really work? There was only one way to find out. ”Alexsey?”
Aching with desire, he captured her hand and kissed the palm. ”Yes, my sweet?”
With her hair mussed about her face, her cheeks flushed from their kisses, and her eyes half closed, she looked like a woman who'd just been thoroughly loved. One day she will look this way because of me. Pleasure raced through him at the thought. G.o.d, he loved the feel of this woman, of her full curves, and the- He frowned. What was she . . . was she humming?