Her skin was smooth and soft. Lion swallowed hard against a sudden, stunning rush of desire. He stroked down her throat, over her nose, her forehead. Gently brushed away the wisps of hair curling at her temples. There was no snow remaining, only a trace of wetness, and he couldn’t stop touching her.
“Thank you,” Miss Fox said, sounding breathless.
Somewhere behind him, Dandy was running about in the snow. The sounds of her grunting and panting did nothing to overpower his wildly beating heart. His fingers moved with a mind of their own, tracing over the Cupid’s bow of her upper lip.
“I seem to have missed a spot,” he murmured, lowering his head toward hers.
“You did?”
“Yes. Here.”
And then he covered her mouth with his. It was a terrible idea. Wholly inadvisable. Exactly what he had spent the last week avoiding. And it felt so bloody good he could scarcely bear it.
Her lips parted, and he deepened the kiss, tasting tea and sweet strawberry preserves she must have slathered on a scone earlier, and something else that was mysteriously, indefinably Adelia Fox. The sweetest elixir he had ever known. He cupped her cheek tenderly, taking his time to learn her mouth, drinking in her soft sigh as his tongue stroked against hers.
She clutched at his shoulders, holding him to her as if she feared he would flee. But she needn’t have worried. Her lips were intoxicating. He couldn’t get enough of them. And her body? It was a dream. His free hand fell on her waist, pulling her flush against him, bringing the fullness of her breasts into his chest. How desperately he longed to peel away her layers. To tear at her silk, velvet, and wool until she was bared to his feverish gaze. To kiss and taste every inch of this ravishing, vexing, wonderful woman.
But that was foolish and impossible. They were standing in the midst of the outdoors, the punishing winter wind whirling about, snowflakes falling around them. And still, he kissed her. Kissed her because he couldn’t shake the restless feeling that hehadto. That his mouth on hers was imperative.
She wound her arms around his neck. Snow fell on his head, and he didn’t care. He was dimly aware of Dandy jumping at his legs, attempting to insert herself. The little mongrel was always desperate for attention. But he hadn’t any to spare. Miss Fox owned all of it just now.
Her lips clung to his, responding so sweetly, as if she were every bit as desperate for him as he was for her. Her tongue dueled with his, and he delighted in her boldness. Nothing Miss Adelia Fox did was meek or mild. She was brazen in all ways, and it both horrified him and drew him to her. He shouldn’t want her.
But he couldn’t stop himself.
He eased a path of kisses along her jaw, then down the sleek column of her throat, finding her pulse with his lips. And then because he couldn’t resist, he opened his mouth, tasting her soft skin, reveling in her swift inhalation. He breathed deeply, taking in the soft floral scent of her, unable to get enough.
Dandy chose that moment to bark loudly, bringing Lion back to his senses with a jolt. He was sucking on Miss Adelia Fox’sthroat like a green lad who was about to have his first experience with a woman. Lion withdrew, stepping back from her as if he’d been scalded.
“Forgive me,” he bit out, all he could manage.
Dandy barked.
Lion didn’t even bother to retrieve his fallen hat. He fled the gardens like a coward.
CHAPTER 7
The hour was indecently late, and there was no reason for Addy to hover outside the Duke of Marchingham’s bedchamber except a scandalous one. But when had she ever balked at causing a little scandal if it meant having her way?
Never, of course.
Her hand hovered, her determination overshadowed by her fear of rejection. This was her last chance to take the greatest risk of her life. All she needed was to muster the courage to knock on the duke’s door.
The snow had finally melted sufficiently so that the roads were once again passable. In the morning, Addy, Alfred, and Aunt Pearl would be leaving. A week and a half had passed from the time Addy had unceremoniously arrived at Marchingham Hall to this evening.
And in that time, everything had changed.
She and Marchingham had fallen into a pattern. He hid himself away, only to occasionally emerge, kiss her breathless, and then apologize and disappear again. They had kissed in the music room, the gardens, the library, and even once in the hall, where anyone could have happened upon them. Each time, hewithdrew, only to pretend as if nothing had occurred between them when their paths crossed next.
She had never met a man more frustrating. It was as if there were two different dukes. One was cold and aloof and proper, and the other was passionate and reckless.
The latter was, naturally, Addy’s preference. She liked when those glimmers of his wicked self emerged. She wanted more of them. She wanted to muss his hair. To climb into his lap and kiss him until her lips ached. To melt every last trace of his ice. She wanted to hold his hand and to have more snowball fights. To make him laugh. To win his smiles.
And perhaps even to win his heart.
That last realization had brought her here, to the room she had discovered was his, at nearly midnight. Her time was running out. At dinner, Marchingham had been painstakingly polite, haughty, and reserved. When she had spoken of the plans she and Aunt Pearl had made to leave for the train station in the morning, he hadn’t even blinked.
What if his lack of reaction was because he would be relieved to rid himself of her uninvited presence at his home?
