“A little.” She glanced up at him, her gaze meeting his striking green eyes and her mouth went dry. It wasn’t that she found herself attracted to him. He was handsome, but she did not desire his kiss. Not the way she found herself wishing for Marcus’s. Could she truly share such an intimate moment with anyone?
Her stomach tightened at the realization that she could not. This had been a fool’s errand from the onset and it was its ego put an end to the shenanigans. If that meant she would never marry, then so be it. She'd embrace her fate come what may. "Thank you for your company," Daphne said, releasing his arm. "I'd like to return to the music room."
She pivoted, then took a step. Her foot caught in the gossamer fabric of her gown and she stumbled, her body coming against Mr. Ashes.
He locked his arms around her, steadying her and stared down into her face. “Easy. I’ve got you.”
“Take your hands from her,” Marcus’s voice boomed from somewhere behind her. “What the devil is going on?”
Mr. Ashe relaxed his hold, allowing her to step back. Face burning, she turned to Marcus. “I lost my balance.”
He turned infuriated blue eyes on Mr. Ashe. “Is that true?”
Overcome with a sudden wave of anger, Daphne peered at Marcus. “How dare you question my word? You have no right! Mr. Ashe was being nothing more than a gentleman and you—”
“Let’s discuss this in private.” Marcus grabbed her arm, tugging her through a nearby door. He kicked it closed behind them with no concern for what Mr. Ashe might think or do.
Daphne huffed, her breaths coming in labored gasps. “You’ll start a scandal.”
"I don't give a damn if I do." He closed the distance between them in three long strides. "If you want a kiss, I'll be the one to give it." He lowered his head, capturing her lips with his.
Daphne’s knee’s threatened to buckle and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders for support. She should push him away. Slap him for all he’d put her through. But she was powerless to do anything other than bend to his will.
He slanted his mouth over hers, hot and demanding. She gasped at the flood of new sensations and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into the recess of her mouth. Following his lead, she caressed his tongue with hers, massaging and tasting, taking all he offered.
He slid his hands down her back, cupped her bottom, and pulled her closer against his muscular body. A flood of heat pooled between her thighs and she moaned, "Marcus."
He released her so fast that she stumbled back. “Did I do something wrong?”
“You did everything right,” he ground out the words, then turned and stormed to the door. Peering back at her, he said, “Now that you’ve had your kiss, you can stop this nonsense.” Turning his back to her, he disappeared through the door.
Daphne marched to the door, pulled it open, and peered down the hall at his retreating back. How dare he kiss her as he had and then speak to her in such a demeaning way? “To the devil with you!”
She slammed the door. With her heart pounding, she leaned against the solid wood slab and exhaled a deep breath. She brought her fingertips to her tender lips and her anger evaporated. She’d received her kiss, and oh what a marvelous kiss it had been.
Chapter 8
Despite the cold winter air and gently falling snow Marcus’s blood warmed as he watched Daphne ice skating across the frozen pond. Why the hell had he kissed her? He should have known it wouldn’t lead anywhere good. Now he found himself desperate to possess a woman who was off limits to him. Not only was she Bradford’s beloved cousin, but she was too sweet by far.
Still, he burned with desire for her. She was everything he never wanted. Sweet, shy, innocent. It was for all those reasons and more that he’d refused to kiss her so many years prior. The same reasons he should have denied her now. He wasn’t fit to take such a woman to wife.
She skated past with Natalie beside her and their eyes met for the briefest of moments. Had he detected longing in her blue depths? He studied her as she made her way around the pond. Did she long for him as he did her? The fire in her gaze spoke to such feelings.
He was proving to be quite the fool. Surely he’d only imagined the invitation in her eyes for somehow he doubted that she would welcome him.
Unable to withstand the torture any longer, he rose to leave. She did not want him. Even if she did, he was all wrong for her. Scooping up his skates, he started toward the house. A warm fire and tumbler of whiskey would be most welcome.
Marcus made his way to the billiards room then went directly to the sideboard. He poured a copious amount of whiskey into a tumbler. The liquor slid over his tongue and warmed his throat. He finished the contents of his glass in one long gulp before turning to inspect the room.
Grateful to find it empty, save for himself, he refilled his tumbler. Marcus lifted the crystal decanter into his empty hand and strolled to the window. As though he had no power over his own actions, he peered into the dark night. Torchlight lit the frozen pond, casting shadows over its icy surface.
As if of its own accord, his gaze searched for Daphne. He could not stop himself from wondering who she skated with now. Questions circled through his mind in a never-ending succession. Was she laughing? Did she notice his absence and wonder where he’d gone? Was she chilled?
He’d give anything for the right to warm her. To wrap her in his embrace and kiss her soundly while he rubbed his hands over her lush body. His groin tightened at the images forming in his mind.
“Bloody hell.” He ground the words out from between clenched teeth. It seemed there was no way to escape her. The more he tried not to think about Daphne, the more she haunted him. He tossed back the whiskey remaining in his tumbler.
When he stared back out at the pond, his gaze caught on Daphne—and Ashe.
