Nice girls missed a great deal.
She broke the kiss, but not to pull away. Rather, she indulged her impulse of a few moments before and turned her face to rest against Stephen’s neck. The wood-smoke smell was stronger there, mixed with a very human masculine aroma, and when she ran her tongue experimentally up to Stephen’s ear, he made a rough and inarticulate noise.
Also, the hand at her waist was now cupping her backside. Very nicely, too. Then there was pressure, so she followed it, letting Stephen draw her right up against him.
Now her breasts were crushed against his chest so that she could feel its warmth right through the layers of her clothing. Lower down, a long, thick shaft pressed against her, even hotter and harder than the rest of Stephen’s body.
Mina’s practical knowledge of male organs was a little hazy. It was still good enough to produce several unclear but extremely tempting images and to make her squirm in Stephen’s arms, rubbing herself against him.
That didn’t quite work. Rather, it felt wonderful but was not quite what she wanted.
Stephen was too damn tall. Or she was too short. It would all be much better if they were lying down. The thought crossed her mind just as Stephen trailed his other hand down, his fingers maddeningly light as they grazed over her bodice, and gently cupped one of her breasts.
“Ohh.”
The sound rushed out of Mina on a breath that seemed to empty her lungs. She felt Stephen tense, felt the flex of his muscles beneath her palms, and drew her own hands downward, feeling crisp hair and smooth skin beneath her fingertips. Touching his chest meant putting a little more space between it and her breasts, but that was all right—especially when Stephen started stroking his thumb over her nipple.
Then it was more than all right: it was enthralling. The place between her legs was hot and wet and aching. It ached more with every motion of Stephen’s hands, with every inch of his skin Mina touched, but she desperately wanted to keep going.
And then, from the window nearby:thump.
Mina didn’t even see Stephen move. She barely felt it. One second she was in his arms, her whole being centered on desire; the next, she was facing the window from behind him. Her shoulders were a little sore, and when she had a second to breathe, she processed the whirl of movement. He’d grabbed her and spun her out of the way.
Contrary to all reason, the thought did nothing to diminish her lust.
A pair of green eyes, staring out of the darkness, did. Mina glimpsed them when she peered around Stephen, gasped—and then relaxed when the shape around them moved and she saw more of it.
“Just the cat,” she said.
“Thecat?” he grumbled. “I wasna’ aware we had one.”
“Well—a cat, then.” Although it was more likethe. Emily had started putting food out for the creature, and Mina had caught Owens with a saucer of milk at least once. Mina couldn’t read Stephen’s tone, though, and she wasn’t inclined to tattle on the scullery maid who sometimes smiled and asked how her day had gone. “I’ve seen it round the back a few times. Strays, you know. You get them in the city.”
“Probably harmless enough, then,” Stephen said, and turned away from the window. His gaze fastened on Mina’s face, and his eyes darkened, but he made no move to approach her.
Mina understood. Harmless as the cat was, its sudden presence outside had been an effective slap in the face for her. Now she was all too aware that she’d been standing in a deserted and dimly lit house, ready to do all sorts of unwise things with a man she’d known for all of three weeks—a gentleman, at that, and one who wasn’t even human. She couldn’t blame him this time, either.
Whatever he was going to say—scandalized lecture or gentlemanly apology—Mina didn’t want to hear it. “People will be getting back soon,” she said. “You should probably go and see to your room before one of the maids gets there.”
“Oh. Aye.” Stephen cleared his throat. “No, it wouldn’t do to have them upset,” he agreed and started up the stairs. Halfway up, as Mina was beginning to walk away, he stopped and turned. “Are—will you be all right?”
“Oh, well enough,” said Mina, turning back with a smile she didn’t really feel. “I’ll just…I’ll make myself a cup of tea.”
“Because that,” she added to the dark hall, once she was alone there, “is sure to solve everything.”
Fourteen
In the morning, the wind spat rain against the window glass. Stephen looked up from his tea and made a sound that sounded unusually dragonish even to him. He should have known. He’d come to London in the spring—if one could call it that.
Oh, the sky was as gray at home and the weather as bad, or worse. He had to admit that. But he’d never minded there. In the city, the rain felt greasy, and the low, bleak sky was an imprisoning wall. There were walls everywhere here. Some of them granted at least a little safety—though last night had shown their limits—but all of them kept him trapped, even the ones that were only words.
Duty: there was a set of iron bars.Honorwas another good one. He’d shut himself behind both quite willingly. He knew it was for the best, and yet—
He buttered a scone absently and ate it without tasting it at all.
It was going to be that sort of day. It had not been a particularly restful night. Stephen had seen to his most immediate needs in a matter of minutes with a few rough and almost punishing strokes of his hand. His sleep had still been restless, haunted alternately by red-lit shadows and a woman’s flushed face, her blue eyes hazy with desire.
He wished to hell that his dreaming mind would at least settle on horror or lust.
