Cease this!
Allie mentally reached within and crushed the emotions swelling beneath her sternum, squeezing that imagined rose of kinship in both fists, heedless of the thorns cutting her palms.
Liking Ethan Penn-Leith would serve nothing. Despite the brevity of their acquaintance, he had already thwarted her escape plans twice. She would be safely lost in the pandemonium of London by now, moving ever farther from her ducal brother’s reach, if Mr. Penn-Leith hadn’t accosted her.
The man was no soul twin, no friend.
You are far too intelligent to have not escaped, were you truly determined.
Kendall’s words from the carriage four nights past arrowed through her mind.
Enough.
Thiswas why she needed to cease all interactions with men—Ethan Penn-Leith, Kendall, Fabrizio . . . all of them.
Shewouldescape.
She merely needed to sever all sentimentality.
Starting now.
“I may face demands, Mr. Penn-Leith, but I also make them of others.” Allie gave an agitated laugh. “I have saved your skin twice now—once in Italy and again today. You owe me a debt, Poet. And be warned—a daughter of a Duke of Kendall always collects her debts.”
Speaking of Kendall . . .
She heard the tell-taleclackof the door leading in from the mews.
Perfect.
Allie made a split-second decision, one calculated to antagonize—both KendallandMr. Penn-Leith.
If she appalled Mr. Penn-Leith, he would leave her be for good.
If she engaged in sufficiently improper behavior, Kendall would cast her off as useless.
And she could do both within the next minute.
“Mr. Penn-Leith,” she said, erasing the space between them, “I fear that I am about to give you a rather pointed lesson as to why a friendship with myself would be ill-advised. Consider this a debt collected.”
Angling her head, Allie trailed fingers down his cheek, slid her fingers between his neckcloth and throat, . . .
. . . and pulled his mouth to hers.
Madonna mia!
Her eyes nearly crossed at that first heady taste of him—soft lips and leashed power.
His kiss was every whit as potent as her memory had painted it.
No slow top, Mr. Penn-Leith eagerly leaned into her, his own hand rising to cup her face. His thumb skimmed her cheek, pressing into the corner of her mouth.
Yearning thrummed between them, a pulsing current that propelled Allie to run her palm from his throat to his hair, threading her fingers into the thick mass.
She could taste the loneliness on his lips, the hunger for connection.
Her own hunger rose to meet his, each press of their lips a soothing balm to the loneliness within herself.
Thiswas the feeling she remembered from that dusty Italian road. A matched pair to the kiss she had relived a thousand times.
