“I do not want you to sacrifice yourself for me.”
“Then I am doing it for me. I will never forgive myself for the misery brought down upon you because of my foolish actions.” He startled her by drawing her onto his lap.
She clasped onto his shoulders for support. “What are you doing?”
“Following through on the best decision I have made in my entire life.” He circled an arm around her waist to draw her closely up against him. “Are we agreed?”
Her hands slid down his chest to clutch the lapels of his jacket. “No, we are not agreed. I’ll need more convincing before I–”
“This might convince you.” He plunged his hand into the magnificently unruly coils of her hair, holding her still while he brought his mouth down on hers with crushing heat.
CHAPTER 6
ADELA SLID HERhands up the Duke of Huntsford’s broad chest and clutched his muscled shoulders, holding on for dear life as he kissed her with breathless abandon. What was the stubborn clot thinking?
His lips were warm and marvelously pressed against hers in an obvious attempt to melt her resistance.
She ought to have been incensed.
But she was melting, completely captivated, and hoping his kiss would never end. How could she be at all outraged when this was the most wonderful thing ever to happen to her in her exceedingly dull life?
Even the day was beautiful, the sun shining brightly against the bluest sky. Birds twittered in the blossoming trees and the gentle scent of lilac filled the air. It mingled with his delicious, musk scent and the raw heat of their kiss.
She would deal with the consequences later.
Right now, she was on fire.
This plan of his to persuade her to marry him was working.
Dear heaven.
Was he offering this to her for a lifetime?
Why would he allow himself to be shackled to her because of a moment’s mistake which was not even his own?
She meant to protest, but her feeble attempts did not sound convincing. Nor did the way her body instinctively molded to his give him any reason to doubt her attraction to him. Why should it? She loved how he felt, the hard length of him and his muscled arms holding her up against him so that her bosom pressed softly against his solid chest.
He deepened the kiss…her very first.
If nothing else marvelous happened in her life, she would have the memory of this moment and a perfect first kiss to warm her cold and empty nights.
Assuming she rejected his proposal, which seemed an incredibly stupid thing for her to do.
But she could not allow his kisses to sway her.
Was it possible he truly wished to marry her?
He certainly kissed her as though he meant it.
Or was it merely his manner to kiss all ladies this way, with passion, power, and possessive hunger?
No wonder women swooned over him.
“What is that scent you’re wearing?” he asked, moving his lips off hers and beginning to drop soft kisses along her neck.
“Um…orange blossoms. It’s…um…oh, that feels nice. The Farthingale soap. It is one of my favorite scents. I have several and use them depending on whether I’m feeling fruity or…um…what was the question?”
“Your scent,” he said in a husky rumble, now suckling her neck.
