CHAPTER 11
She was kissing him.
And ye gods. When Miranda Lenox wanted to kiss, she bloody wellkissed. Her soft lips were firm and demanding, her sharp little tongue bold and insistent, and the dainty fingers grasping his tie and pulling him to her were a dominant touch he hadn’t known would make his prick as rigid as a fire poker.
Until now.
Now he knew. He liked her urgency, her fire, her wild abandon. Not just because a carefree Miranda was such a rarity—though, to be sure, it was. She wore responsibility the way some women wore their jewels. But because he knew what it meant, her unfettered reaction to him. It meant he had chipped away at her walls. It meant her defenses were lying in shattered ruins at her yet-booted feet.
Which reminded him—he needed to get her out of her plain gray gown and hideous ankle boots more suited to a somber housekeeper than a woman of such passion. She tasted like chocolate and sugar with a hint of cream and something else that was as mysterious as it was indefinably hers.
Bloody delicious. That was what she tasted like. Like tonight and tomorrow and a hundred nights afterward. Like his. Like something scarce and indefinable. Something he never wanted to forget or be without. And that in itself should trouble him, but somehow, it didn’t.
Her tongue tangled with his, stroking, sliding sinuously, and he groaned, gliding a hand from her waist up the small of her back. The boning of her corset grazed his palm, reminding him anew of all the layers he must strip away to have her naked and utterly at his mercy.
He was taking nothing for granted, of course. His Miranda was skittish as a newborn foal. She needed coaxing and tenderness and persuasion—rightly so, after all she must have endured at her oafish husband’s hands. Rhys couldn’t simply begin to tear away at hooks and laces and tapes, regardless of how much he longed to do so. No, he would have to woo her and win her. To savor her and pleasure her. To show her just how much she meant to him, which seemed in this moment, her lips sweet and demanding upon his, more than he could have fathomed.
But he was ever cognizant of her reticence. The fact that she had told him she could not stay with him tonight.
Reluctantly, he broke the kiss, moving his other hand from her waist to cup her cheek, holding her still so he could meet her eyes and search her gaze for the mysteries he longed to unlock.
“Stay with me tonight,” he said. “Please.”
Her kiss-swollen lips parted. And he feared she was preparing to deny him. To deny them both. So he pressed his thumb gently over her mouth.
“Don’t say you cannot. Not until you hear what I have to say.”
Her dark lashes fanned over her cheeks for a moment, long and sooty. And then they rose on emerald eyes that never failedto take his breath, regardless of how many times he fell into them. She nodded.
“There is a reason I placed us in this wing of the manor house. Have you not noticed that there are no other guests but the two of us?”
He was revealing his rakish plotting to her, and he knew he ought to be ashamed. But part of him hoped his actions might actually work in his favor.
“Yes, but?—”
“No,” he interrupted, pressing her full lower lip firmly to the top, keeping her from continuing. “I haven’t finished yet, darling. I placed us here so that we would be assured of privacy. I also made certain that the only servants about are loyal and trustworthy.”
“But Green.”
“Green is being paid handsomely for a young lady of no experience. And beyond that, her family is being well provided for. All I ask in exchange is loyalty and discretion.”
“Bribery?” She sounded indignant despite the way his thumb muffled the word.
“Hardly. Merely making certain that I am prepared in all ways.” He lowered his forehead to hers. “Which I clearly am not. Prepared, that is. I am persuaded that nothing in the world could have prepared me for you.”
He meant that. Yes, he was bombastic and ridiculous, and he used his charm and his tongue and his good looks to woo the fairer sex into giving him what he wanted. He had been doing so since he’d been a wet-behind-the-ears lad of fifteen when he had first realized he could use his face and his family name to his advantage. But that wasn’t what he was doing here with Miranda. With her, it was as if he were bereft of all artifice, stripped bare and vulnerable. He’d never experienced anything quite like it.
Her nostrils flared as she inhaled deeply, clearly waging war with herself. “You are a notorious rake. Surely you’ve had ample practice at seducing women into doing whatever it is you wish of them.”
“Not with you.” It was all he could bring himself to say. Maudlin confessions were not in him. He took the ugliness and worst of life and made a jest of it. He buried his feelings so deep that they could never be resurrected. The lad who had been ruthlessly beaten by the former duke to remove all hints of weakness had learned his lessons well.
Except for the woman in his arms.
Her eyebrows rose. “And that matters?”
“Youmatter.” His voice was so raw with emotion that it was hoarse. “I’ve made certain to protect you and your reputation. No one shall ever be the wiser.”
“I will.”
