“Will I not?” He stepped closer, head tilting as he looked down at her. From this angle, he seemed overly grand, a man playing at being a god—and perhaps shewassusceptible, because something inside her quivered at the thought of being so close to him. “You see, seduction is very simple if one knows what he is doing. All a man needs to do is make the object of his admiration feel as though she is the only lady he has ever seen.”
Eleanor folded her arms. “A ridiculous concept. I don’t believe you can do any such thing.”
“Oh, it’s not the work of a moment. Rather, several strung together. Proximity helps. And compliments, aimed at just the right level, tailored to each lady’s particular beauty. You, for example—I would tell you that you hold yourself with rare elegance, and that this mark, here”—he touched the mole nearher collarbone, the flash of heat against her skin informing her that he wore no gloves—“is singularly compelling.”
Unsteadied by the sincerity in his voice, and from having a gentleman stand so very close and speak to her so familiarly, Eleanor could not move away. “That—that is all?” she stammered, digging her nails into her folded arms so she would not lose focus. “You must have been seducing weak-minded ladies indeed ifthatis all it takes to charm them.”
He chuckled. “Perhaps. But let us not forget the efficacy of a well-placed touch.” He reached out and took a curl in his fingers, letting the soft lock slide across his knuckle. She glanced down, watching, hypnotized despite herself. “And then, of course, the anticipation of what is to follow. A lady who has been kissed before may know that a kiss is forthcoming; she might look at me with shy hunger. Yes,” he breathed, tipping her chin up with his other hand. “Just like that, pretty shepherdess. Have you ever been kissed before?”
“N…no,” she whispered.
“Then you are a lucky girl that this is your first.” As he spoke, he bent his head, and as though she were in a dream, she allowed him this freedom, allowed him to slide his fingers through her hair and tilt her chin a little further, so his breath brushed across her lips. And then, after a pause, where she could have fled if she were so inclined—where she ought to have fled—he brought his mouth down to hers.
CHAPTER TWO
Afirst kiss ought to be maidenly, Eleanor had always thought, although she had rarely given kissing much consideration. After all, until this stranger dressed as a former king, she had never encountered a gentleman so inclined to kiss her.
In fact, thanks to her stepmother, she had rarely encountered a gentleman who gave her a second glance compared to her younger and far better-dressed half-sisters. This was the way of things, and she had largely come to accept her place in the world—fighting it, after all, had never done her any good.
But as the man’s lips pressed against hers, she felt as though the walls around her life fell away. All this time, she had never given kissing any consideration, and yet it could feel likethis.
Soft, warm. Her lower belly felt molten as his lips moved, opening her mouth and tilting her head so their kiss perfectly slotted together. He tugged her closer, until their bodies were flush, and her heart pounded in her chest. Her hands moved oftheir own volition, reaching up to slide into his hair. Long and thick and silky, so unlike her own and yet so similar, too. She had never encountered a man with long hair like this before. Roguish, like a pirate.
At the feel of her hands on him, he made a low sound in the back of his throat, and his tongue flicked across her lower lip. She stifled a gasp. The liquid feeling between her legs deepened into something approaching an ache as he repeated the gesture, then slid his tongue into her mouth. Hot. Wet. So very different from anything she could ever have imagined.
For several more heady seconds—or perhaps they were sunlit days—she lost herself to the intimacy of his touch. The hand at her chin slid down to her jaw, fingertips soft as they skated across her skin; his other hand found her waist, bowing her body against his, holding her steady when she felt as though her knees might buckle.
For years, she had been a stranger to desire. It had never held much of a place in her life. But today, it came upon her with a vengeance, and she—
She was kissing a stranger.
Kissing a stranger on the balcony of a public ball where anyone might see them.
To be sure, she doubted many would recognize her, but if any of her half-sisters were to discover this, they would out her immediately. Her reputation would be ruined. This, she hadknown when he approached her, so how had she allowed him to take such liberties with her?
“Stop,” she gasped, pushing at his chest. He immediately stepped back, his hold on her loosening as though she had shocked him.
Heavens, she ought to have shocked some sense into herself several minutes prior. The music still lilted around them, the dances below continuing as though nothing had happened, but the heat that coursed lazily through her body said otherwise. Her entire life had fundamentally changed, and she should not have allowed it to.
“How… howdareyou,” she hissed, jabbing a finger at him. “You said my virtue would be safe with you!”
He looked down at her, a speculative gleam in his eyes. “And you said you had never before been kissed.”
“I was telling thetruth.”
His smile widened. “Then I must have been a better teacher than I could have accounted for.” He gave a flourishing, mocking bow. “You are welcome, my shepherdess.”
“I am notyouranything.” Gathering what remained of her dignity and courage, she pushed past him, fleeing back down the stairs and into the bulk of the crowd once more. Her face burned and tears stung her eyes, although she hardly knew why. It washardly as though she knew his identity or even cared to know. This did not have to go further than a pleasant recollection in her most private moments.
Though she did not look up, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing he dwelled in her thoughts for even a moment, she felt his gaze linger on her from the balcony above for the remainder of the night.
The next few days passed slowly, syrupy like melted sugar as Eleanor tried not to think of the man at the ball, and succeeded in thinking about little else. The way he had spoken to her, the way he had touched her, and the way he hadkissedher.
The way she had allowed him.
No doubt he was precisely the kind of rake she had originally supposed him to be. And she had proven herself to be just like every other girl he had no doubt seduced. For him, it had been another conquest to add to his list, a notch in his belt, but it had been her first kiss.
Her first kiss had been with a man who cared nothing for her, and who did not know so much as her name.
