“I thought a person should feel fireworks inside their bodies from a kiss.”
An emotion he could not identify throbbed in her voice. Bemused, he asked, “Fireworks?”
“Yes.”
“I am thirty years of age, and I have kissed many lips. I have never once felt these fireworks you speak about.”
An annoyed sound slipped from her. “I wonder why Cassandra lied.”
“Who is this person?”
“My dearest friend. She lives in New York with her husband. She … she felt fireworks in her body when she kissed William for the very first time. I never thought she would fib about something this important.”
“What is important.”
Elizabeth sniffed and gently admonished, “Do keep up, Your Grace. A lady’s first kiss is terribly important.”
“I was not aware of this,” he said drily.
Somewhere upstairs a servant lit a lamp, and he was thankful for that small light for it allowed him to see more of her face. A rosy flush bloomed in her cheeks, and her lashes lowered briefly. “I cannot imagine why you would not know, considering you are a gentleman with much experience in debauchery.”
What exactly did she hear about him?
“Only the first time is important?” James asked, wondering why the hell he was having this conversation.
“Hmm,” she whispered, rose to the tips of her toes, and brushed her mouth across the underside of his jaw. “This is my first kiss, and it is supposed to feel wonderful.”
“It is a crime you believed that we kissed.”
“The rumors do say you are a rakish rogue,” she said. “And I have you all to myself.” Her eyes were bright with perhaps hope and nervousness.
“I have never heard such delight from a lady to be alone with a rogue.”
He used his thumb to part her lips and then slid it against the inside of her bottom lip. That wicked need to ruthlessly seduce coiled in his gut.
“Hmm, I order you to make me feel fireworks, Your Grace,” she purred without giving any more information.
The challenge tugged at something raw inside of James, and a shock of lust rammed inside his gut. He lowered his hand. She also had a sweet, wild beauty that was fuckable. He lowered his nose to the curve of her throat and inhaled. By God, he was tempted. James wanted to kiss her until she was soft and pliant in his arms, her pussy wet for his taking. This incredible want felt perilous, simply for the notion that it felt beyond his ability to control it. He gently raked his teeth, then sucked at the flesh of her throat where her pulse beat like a caged bird. James willed his heartbeat to calm, his cock to stop throbbing with want.
“When you are sober, Elizabeth, we can have this conversation again.”
“You are a most peculiar libertine,” she responded tartly, her words tinged with humor.
James chuckled, surprising even himself with the sense of connection he felt toward her.
She leaned back and stumbled, then laughed before a small hiccup stopped her. “Oh, drat!”
James caught her against his chest when she stumbled again, and to his shock, Elizabeth delicately covered a yawn and closed her eyes. “Are you sleeping?”
“No,” she said drowsily. “I feel as if I am floating, and I feel so warm.”
He hadn’t anticipated such a turn of events but now found himself responsible for her well-being. Holding her securely in his arms, he maneuvered with her through the shadows of the back gardens, away from the eyes of the other guests still reveling inside the ball. The darkness thankfully provided a cloak of anonymity that James found useful.
As they reached the perimeter of the gardens, he stopped in the shadows and glanced around to ensure they remained unseen before guiding her quickly to where his carriage waited. The coachman, alert to the approach of his master, hurried to knock down the steps.
“You need to enter the carriage.”
She peered up at him. “Is this a kidnapping?”
