‘Well, then. It’s lucky I won’t be kissing you again, Your Grace.’
‘Are you quite certain?’ He moved away from her mouth, his warm breath teasing the sensitive skin just behind her ear. ‘If you refuse to feel guilty, then neither will I.’ Her world was about tocatch fire in the heat he created. ‘You won’t kiss me again? Is that a promise?’
‘Yes,’ she breathed.
‘I wonder, can I make you break it?’
She swallowed her need as he nibbled along her neck from ear to shoulder. Perhaps she hadn’t been so terrible at kissing. He seemed very intent on reengaging in the behaviour. But she’d already told him she wouldn’t kiss him again. Which was highly annoying. Because everything in her demanded she do just that.
‘Will you kiss me if I kiss you here?’ He pressed his mouth against her collar bone. ‘Or perhaps here?’ His words brushed the hollow of her neck a moment before his lips. ‘What about here?’ He nipped along her jaw. ‘Here?’ He feathered kisses over her scar, along her cheekbone, ending at the corner of her mouth.
Hannah was drowning in need and frustration. On a strangled cry, she buried her hands in his hair and held his face still. ‘Damn you, Robert Killian.’ His name felt strange on her lips, but then she was tasting his mouth, rubbing against him, plunging into his depths, and revelling in the scrape of his teeth against her tongue.
He held still for a moment before taking control.
Hannah knew the desperate need coiled within him mirrored her own. He was a predator poised to strike. But she was no helpless prey. She met him as an equal on the battlefield of desire, and it was glorious. He lifted her up on the balustrade, splitting her legs and pushing between them with his narrow hips.
Her skirts separated them with layers of silk and cotton, but the ridge of his evident need pressed against her like steel. His fingers gripped her bottom, pulling her closer.
This was madness. Total anarchy. Her body was staging a revolution against her mind. Everything was moving too fast. Panic sparked and warred with desire. Her arrogance and need had led her down a path she wasn’t ready to walk.
‘Stop. We must stop.’ She placed her hands flat on his shoulders and pushed away. Her breathing was erratic. She only felt this way after an intense fight.
‘We will. Soon.’ He pulled her back, kissing her gently this time, his mouth light and playful.
She almost let herself be swept away, but if she sank now, she feared she might never resurface. ‘Now. We must stop now.’ It would be so easy to lose herself in the frenzy. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. He was the enemy. But she struggled to remember why.
Killian froze, a groan escaping his lips. She felt his muscles shaking as he eased her down from the stone railing. ‘Of course.’ Pressing his forehead against hers, they stood silent. The only sounds were their mingled breaths, a nightingale singing its evening song, and the echo of a waltz floating on the wind.
‘Will you accept my apology this time? Surely, you are owed one,’ his rough voice was strained.
Boisterous laughter and male voices burst onto the veranda. Lord Killian took measured steps away from her, putting the proper distance between them, but his gaze was no less explicit than his mouth had been moments earlier.
Hannah ran a shaky hand down her skirts. ‘You deserve my thanks, not my forgiveness. You stopped when I asked.’
‘I will always stop when you ask. Although next time, I hope you won’t.’
‘There won’t be a next time, Your Grace.’
‘Liar.’ Lord Killian’s mouth curved in a rogue’s smile, and moonlight flashed in his eyes. If the Devil was made to tempt, then Lieutenant General Robert Killian was Lucifer in a dinner jacket.
The men moved closer to Hannah and Lord Killian’s hidden corner. The duke crooked his arm in an invitation. ‘Shall we return to the ball, Miss Simmons?’
Hannah cautiously placed her hand on his arm and willed herself to be calm. ‘Yes, I believe that would be best.’ Her body vehemently disagreed.
A carefully orchestrated spark could so easily catch the wind and flame into an uncontrollable inferno. Killian reminded himself of this fact in a harsh internal lecture as he escorted Miss Simmons back into the ballroom, joining Lady Winterbourne near the refreshment table.
He had never let desire consume his rational mind. Not until this night. All thoughts of the investigation turned to vapour when his gaze caught on the vulnerable juncture of Miss Simmons’s graceful neck meeting her strong shoulder. He wanted to sink his teeth into her skin and mark her. It was barbaric. And unforgiveable. And dear God, he needed to regain control of his lust.
‘Exactly where have you two been?’ Lady Winterbourne raised a perfectly shaped brow.
‘Just taking a stroll on the terrace.’ Miss Simmons’s skin was still flushed. She looked quite beautiful in the blaze of candlelight.
‘I’m sure.’ Lady Winterbourne stared at Miss Simmons for two blinks, then turned her gaze to Killian. ‘Your friend, Major General Drake, is just there.’ She indicated with her fan. ‘Perhaps you should go and say hello.’
Killian wasn’t used to being commanded by any woman save the Queen. Lady Winterbourne reminded him of Her Majesty. It would be intriguing to put them together. There were only two possible outcomes. The women would join forces and achieve world domination or pit themselves against each other, creatingtotal annihilation. Either way, it would be awe-inspiring to watch.
‘An excellent suggestion, Lady Winterbourne. I shall take my leave for the moment.’ He nodded to them both. Hannah’s gaze lingered on him, dipping to his lips. He wished he could sweep her back onto the veranda. Kissing her had been the single most erotic experience of his life, and every sinew of his being ached for more. More of her skin, more of her scent, more of her sharp wit and sweet taste. More of her.
