“Alas,” Nicholas said.
Eliza knew that both were teasing her and enjoying it. The simple truth was that Mr. Galveston was far too similar to her late husband. He was a sensible, prudent man, not given to flamboyance or lavish gestures. Unlike Frederick, he was just a few years older than Eliza, which meant a marriage to him would likely be of long duration.
She could not have borne it.
“Additionally, he has the misfortune of being possessed of fleshy lips,” Damien said and Nicholas snorted. “I suspect kissing him would be rather like kissing a fish.”
“Damien!”
“Well? Was it?” Her brother had the look of the devil about him, as always he did when he teased her.
“I never kissed him.”
“I thought he kissed your hand.”
Eliza flicked a lethal glare at her brother, which produced no good effect.
Indeed, he grinned at her.
Nicholas sat back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “How alarming that a woman would decide upon a man’s merit, or even the fate of his suit, on the basis of how he kissed her hand.”
“Perhaps you should see yourself assessed,” Damien suggested to Eliza’s dismay.
“Perhaps I should.” Nicholas unfolded himself from his chair with easy grace, eyes glinting with purpose.
“The pair of you are unfit company for a lady,” Eliza began to protest. She rose to her feet, intent upon leaving them to each other’s supposed wit.
But Nicholas was already crossing the room to her and she could not flee from him. He claimed her hand with admirable grace, arching his brow as he lifted her fingers to his lips.
Of course, Eliza wore no glove. She was at breakfast. The prospect of his mouth against even her fingers was sufficient to make her heart leap for the heavens. She found no words upon her tongue. She stared at him, savoring the warmth of his hand upon hers and the strength of his grip. Nicholas watched her avidly as he bent lower. A lock of his hair fell over his brow, tempting her to push it back from his brow. She inhaled sharply at the first touch of his lips against her flesh and felt a tingle launch from that point of contact. His lips were firm and dry, brushing across her hand with an intensity equal to the heat of his gaze. He was gentle but there was a deliberation about his gesture that spoke of strength held in restraint, of a power that could be unleashed with her slightest gesture.
Of passion that could be loosed, on her command.
This man would take all night to seduce the woman he desired.
All night.
Perhaps she should ask him for lessons and forget the wretched book. Eliza felt slightly faint at the notion and did not doubt that her eyes widened. Her knees weakened in a most delicious way and she knew she swayed a little. As Nicholas ended his kiss, his gaze swept over her with a hunger that left her yearning.
A sound night’s sleep held markedly less appeal than it had possessed just moments before.
“Well?” he asked, the question no more than an exhalation.
Eliza swallowed. “I doubt any woman would refuse you on that gesture alone.”
Nicholas’ eyes gleamed. “I am most gratified to know as much, Mrs. North.”
Eliza pulled her fingertips from his hand, fearing that he was mocking her. “There might, indeed, be merit in the prospect of being led astray by a man such as yourself. Perhaps I erred in declining your earlier generous offer.”
“You intend to corrupt my sister?” Damien asked.
“I offered, but she declined.”
“Of course. There is one woman in the world immune to your charm, to be sure.” The duke indicated to Nicholas’ glass. “I suppose you would like another.”
Nicholas turned to his friend, giving every sign of forgetting Eliza completely. She should recall that he shared Damien’s ability to charm without meaning anything by it. “Indeed. I was about to conclude that your hospitality had become rather mean.”
“We are simply unaccustomed to guests with manners such as yours, given your long absence from our company.”
