Fingertips whose magic had roamed her whole body.A mouth that had caressed her in other, more intimate places.A strong muscled body that had pressed her own into the mattress of an inn bed.
She drew back her head and looked warily into his eyes.
Blue eyes that looked dreamily and deeply badeinto her own. Eyes that gradually took on focus and some of the amusement she had expected to see there from the first.
She swallowed.
"You have forgotten something," he said in that low bedroom voice, his eyes on her lips. "Ten whole seconds have passed, and I must conclude that you have forgotten.''
"Forgotten?"
"That you were going to smack my face if ever I tried to kiss you again,'' he said. ''No.'' He circled both her wrists with a thumb and middle finger. "I'm afraid it would no longer count. It would merely cause me unnecessary pain. It had to be within ten seconds. That was one of the unwritten rules."
"Let me go," she said lamely.
"And I think my point has been made too," he said. "Kissing and ravishment are not synonymous, alas. That was a quite satisfactory kiss—for both of us, was it not?—but we are bom still sitting on this bench fully clothed and bom in possession of our virtue.Regrettably so, Diana Ingram."He brushed her nose with his briefly. "I rather hoped that you might prove me wrong on that one."
"Let me go."
"I am not detaining you," he said, his eyes twinkling quite alarmingly into hers. "I cannot in all fairness be blamed for not shoving you away, Diana, since you feel so very delightful just where you are. But I am not detaining you."
She took her hands from his loose grasp and pushed herself away from him and to her feet. She did not remove her eyes from his.
"You are despicable," she said. "You manipulate people. You manipulate women. You are a rake and a libertine. Women's feelings mean nothing to you provided that you have your pleasure. You know that I want none of you. And yet you persist in maneuvering me into situations like this."
"The situations would be meaningless if you wanted none of me, Diana," he said. "You are not being truthful with yourself. We could have a great deal of pleasure together, my dear, if you would let go of your very puritanical notion that sexual pleasure is wrong."
"It is wrong when divorced from love and commitment," she said. "And you and I do not even pretend to any love for each other. You offer emptiness and heartache and an endless search for pleasure with which to fill the emptiness. I am tempted, my lord—oh yes, I would not be flesh and blood if I were not. But I will fight the temptation. I will not knowingly empty my life of all meaning. Not just for pleasure.And not for you.It would be a poor exchange indeed."
One side of his mouth lifted in a mocking smile, but he said nothing.
"If you will excuse me," she said. "We will practice at another time."
He spoke only when she was out of the room and about to close the doors behind her.
"There have not been many women who have rendered me speechless, Diana," he said.
"Congratulations."
9
Lord Crensford was sitting on the lower lawn being quite effectively strangled from behind by a shrieking and giggling nephew.
"Little scamp!" he said when he had finally cleared his windpipe for air. "What pleasure do you derive from launching yourself at Uncle Ernie's back fifty times in a row? We carried the ball all this way. Shall I throw it to you?"
The child's reply was to retreat a few yards and launch another attack on his uncle's back.
Lord Crensford glanced at his other two companions. Miss Wickenham was seated quietly on the grass, absorbed in the task of making a daisy chain. Their niece was crawling about on the grass plucking daisies by the heads and offering them to her aunt with a wide smile.
It was a ridiculously domesticated scene. And he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that his mother had thought of that too. She had just about fallen all over her necklaces and rings to suggest that he accompany Miss Wickenham when she had suggested taking the children off Claudia's hands for an hour.
At least that young lady was not getting into any trouble this afternoon. That was a miracle in itself.
''Hey, scamp!'' Lord Crensford yelled after a particularly vicious attack on his neck. He reached back to grab the child, swing him around to the front, and deposit him on the grass, where he lay shrieking, arms and legs flailing, being quite effectively tickled.
Angela Wickenham looked across at them and smiled, her nose wrinkling in such a way as to draw his eyes to the freckles there. Lord Crensford found his eyes straying up to her auburn ringlets—she wore no bonnet—and down to the slim bare arms below the puffed sleeves of her dress, the shapely breasts, the slim legs outlined against the flimsy muslin.
He felt himself flush, though she had looked away already.
