Dashing? Cain glanced down at himself abstractedly. His costume was Corinthian out of necessity rather than personal style. He donned the sheep’s clothing du jour to better stalk his prey. After so many decades of ever-changing styles, the vagaries of vogue blended into incomprehensibility. Cain followed men’s fashion in order to avoid looking like a centuries-old relic. Except for those ridiculous cravats. He’d never worn one as a warrior or as a Scotsman, so he’d be damned before he noosed himself every morning for the English.
For reasons of her own, Ellie had likewise not chosen to emulate French fashion to the letter. She didn’t need to. She would be magnificent in any clothing... or in none at all.
Rather than approach her, he kept to the shadows. “Where’s your chaperone?”
She idly caressed the petal of a bright orange flower. “With a dozen picnickers, there’s no need for individual chaperones.”
If only she knew. Cain shoved his hands behind his back to prevent himself from reaching for her. “Then where are the other eleven? Will the tour wend in here at any moment?”
“No, I’m... alone.” White teeth worried at her lower lip. Just when Cain thought she would choose to flee to the flock of humans, the corner of her mouth lifted in a hesitant smile, and she took an inexorable step forward.
She’d be the death of them both.
In warning, he summoned a rakish leer. “If you come much closer, I’m afraid you’ll find yourself thoroughly kissed.”
“I’m not afraid ,” she answered shyly. “I confess I’m looking forward to the experience.”
Cain closed his eyes to block the temptation of her blushing cheeks and only succeeded in heightening his awareness of her scent. Her soap, her perfume, her blood... If his body had still been human enough to sweat, by now he’d appear the victim of a sudden downpour. He forced his eyes back open.
She was even closer. She had taken another step while he hadn’t been watching and was now a mere arm’s length away. The only thing keeping her innocence intact was his determination not to move a single muscle. If he allowed himself to touch her, if so much as a red-gold ringlet brushed against his skin, he would not be able to keep his desire leashed. An entire battalion of chaperones wouldn’t be able to stop him from kissing her, tasting her, having her.
“Are you all right?” Ellie took another step closer, her eyes filled with concern. “You seem... out of kilter.”
Out of kilter? Cain was breathing heavily, and he didn’t need to breathe.
She lifted a hand, bringing the curve of her fingers near his face as if to check his cheek for fever. At the last second, she dropped her hand back to her side without making contact.
Thank God. His equilibrium had vanished with her arrival. His strength of will was preparing for flight as well. If she had touched him, he would have turned his face into her hand, pressed a kiss to her palm, to the pulse point at her wrist, to her?—
Compulsion! He was a vampire; she was human. Compulsion would save him. Would save them both. This time, it would work.
Run away, he commanded, letting the ferocity of his desire fill his gaze. Run now, and run far, or your innocence will be lost here amongst the flowers. Flee whilst you can!
A slight frown briefly creased Ellie’s brow, but her gaze did not waver. If anything, her expression softened. Rather than run away, she suddenly seemed even closer, as if the hand’s width of air between them had been sucked from the conservatory, pulling them together.
She tucked a stray tendril behind her ear, but this time her hand did not return to her side. Her fingertips slid from the curl and pushed through the thickened air to graze the side of his face, the rough edge of his jaw.
Cain’s entire body trembled from the effort to stay still, to not repay the joy of her touch with caresses of his own. Except he could not help but respond. He meant to hold himself still as marble, but against his will, his hands freed themselves from behind his back, his entire body inexorably drawn to Ellie’s. He jerked away.
“When we were in the kitchens,” she said softly, her face tilting up to his, “I thought you were going to kiss me senseless.”
“I was,” he said, his voice as ragged as his self-control. “I still am.”
“Good.” She smiled up at him, but her voice was more passionate than playful. “Don’t keep me waiting.”
Cain brushed the pad of his thumb along the soft curve of her cheek. When she tilted her face into his hand, he sank his fingers into her glorious hair and pulled her close. He dipped his head, intending to cover her mouth with his, but found pleasure in the sweet torture of anticipation.
He slowly feathered his parted lips across hers. Not quite a kiss, not quite a taste... just the lightest pressure, to tease them both, just as he had done this morning in the kitchen.
When he angled his mouth for another pass, she nipped his lower lip between her teeth.
The bite was sweet and quickly over, but Cain was as good as trapped. His muscles locked. His cock hardened. And when Ellie ran the tip of her tongue across the flesh she’d just bitten, Cain’s whirling brain relinquished all hope of gentlemanly restraint.
Opening his mouth to the kiss, he surrendered to the moment. One hand cradled the back of her head, keeping their mouths firmly together. His other hand slid along the tumble of soft curls to her waist. He splayed his fingers across the gentle curve at the base of her spine. She clutched his shoulders. He drew her to him, until not even a whisper could pass between them.
With the tips of her breasts pressed into his waistcoat and the bulge of his cock throbbing against the folds of her skirt, Cain expected reason to intrude upon the innocent young lady nestled against him and send her fleeing. Instead, she wriggled closer as if she, too, found the friction delicious.
A tiny moan of pleasure escaped her lips, vibrating against his tongue and sending chills along his flesh. Her arms twined about his neck, locking their bodies together. Her increased heartbeat, her rapid breath, the delicious sting of fingernails clawing for purchase against the tailored smoothness of his jacket—the sensations were dizzying, invigorating. Unexpected.
