His mouth was hot and demanding, capturing hers the instant she gave him leave to, and his other hand found her waist, fingers digging in through her layers to find the softness of her curves. She cupped his neck in his hands, nails biting at his skin.
Just once.
The letter in her reticule was a reminder that no matter what she wanted, she had obligations, and she must have someone to pay for them.
If only she did not crave him, and only him, so very much. Too much for it to be a mere arrangement of convenience.
The kiss was burning fire, igniting her from the inside out, and all too soon voices approached. George drew her back into the darkness, stepping away from her just enough that there was nothing immediately untoward about their appearance. If one neglected to notice, that was, precisely how out of breath they both were. Or how possessive George's hand on her wrist was, as though he sensed she was about to return to the ball.
“Not yet,” he murmured.
Another couple, equally as intent on amorous activities, went by silent agreement to the other darkened corner of the balcony.
"You can hardly have me here," she said dryly. "No matter how tempting it might be."
"You would have to be quiet, certainly."
She gave him a flirtatious look and moved away. "You flatter me too much, darling. But I did not come here for you."
"No?" His voice was dark and possessive, and she loved that, too, the way it sharpened her awareness of the ache between her legs.
If he insisted, perhaps she would let him have her here, after all. The pleasure of it would be exquisite.
“You know what I am,” she said lightly. “And what I do.”
“Who are you entertaining this time?”
If only he knew. But it was better this way. “Does it matter?” She shook him free. “We agreed we would not interfere with each other once we returned to London. You have a wife to catch.”And I cannot become attached to a man who will never be mine.
“I am excellent at multitasking.”
She laughed. “Poor girl. You should not be so cruel.”
“When can I see you again?”
“We will attend many of the same events, no doubt.” She waved an airy hand at him, knowing that for all his possessiveness, he would not keep her against her will. “Enough, darling. Know when to let things go.”
His eyes burned into her back as she forced herself to walk away as though she felt nothing at leaving him alone on the darkened balcony.
Chapter Three
In total, including her first Season, Caroline had spent fifteen years in London. Seven of them had been during her marriage, and eight as a merry widow. Although at times she found herself under disagreeable strain, for the most part she enjoyed the life she had forged for herself.
Better she make her own way here than be beholden to a family which had near disowned her for her transgressions as a girl.
Her only concern was making the payments on Jacqueline’s dowry. Without a lover to boost her meagre income, she was at risk of not being able to pay it at all, and she couldn’t have that.
“You’re scowling,” Sir Percy Somerville, her long-time friend, said as she walked into her drawing room to greet him. “And yet still look remarkably lovely.”
“Of course I do, darling.” She presented her cheek for him to kiss, and he did so with an amused expression she did not appreciate. Perhaps surprisingly, she had Sir Percy had never been lovers, although they had known each other since hermarriage. Then, he had been young and foolish, enjoying all London had to offer. Now he was older, madly in love with his estranged wife, and, in her opinion, as foolish as ever.
“Thank you for agreeing to join me tonight,” he said. “I’m sure you have far better things to be doing.”
Silently, Caroline cursed her generous heart. Instead of embarking on more profitable endeavours, she was participating in a scheme that would likely hurt everyone involved. “Not at all,” she said throatily, deciding to make the most of it. “You know I delight in scandal.”
“I do.” His voice was dry. “Even so, let me give you a small token of appreciation.” From his pocket, he withdrew a diamond bracelet, fastening it about her wrist despite her protests. “Sell it after tonight.”
Of all her acquaintances, Sir Percy was the only one to know about the money she sent to the country—and why. Perhaps she should have demurred, but she merely held it to the light. “A pretty trinket.”
