Just like that, Rosalie’s heart was thundering. She felt terrified, but also strangely powerful.
She attempted to make her voice light. “You expect me to believe that the devil himself was laid low by an innocent debutante?”
He snorted. “Innocent? You?”
She shrugged, taking a step closer. “I’m certainly not your usual type.”
He stayed where he was, neither approaching her nor retreating. “Ah, but that’s just it. You, Rosalie de Lacy, defy type. You might, strictly speaking, be a blushing debutante. But you are unlike any blushing debutante I have ever met.”
She gave him a scolding look. “You expect me to believe that you took one look at me and, what? Fell in love at first sight?”
“Don’t be absurd,” he said, his voice full of scorn. “What sort of naive fool believes in love at first sight?”
Suddenly, Rosalie had to work very hard to keep her posture from crumpling and her lip from starting to quiver. Oh, blast! She had gone and allowed herself to hope, fool that she was.
Lucian stepped forward, closing the distance so they were separated by mere inches. Although he did not touch her anywhere, he was standing close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body.
When he spoke, his voice was as dark and as deep as the starry sky overhead. “What happened, Rosalie, was that you opened your mouth. And you were strong, and you were bright, and you were sharp. Like a fuckingdiamond. And, most of all, you were unexpected, in a world where just about everyone is deadly dull. And I found myself wanting to hear what you would say next. Is that ‘love at first sight?’ Of course not.” He cast a contemptuous glance toward the heavens before fixing his eyes once more upon her face. “Fascination at first hearing, I will grant you.”
Oh, dear. This was good. Which was what made it so very, very terrible! To say that she was strong and clever and fascinating was amuchbetter compliment than to merely praise her fine cheekbones or her rose-pink lips. It was, in fact, precisely the sort of compliment Rosalie would most have wanted to hear, and precisely the type to which she was the most vulnerable. She could almost feel the icy walls that guarded her heart crack straight down the middle.
But he wasLucian Deverell! The rakiest rakehell to ever rake his way across London! He was going to break her heart. It was a matter of certainty. This was an alarming thought, because in order to be capable of breaking her heart, he had to have wormed his way inside it. Which, Rosalie discovered to her horror, he had successfully done.
Yes, the situation was dire.
But, if she was being honest, it was also thrilling.
Rosalie would never know where she found the courage to do what she did next. “Is that so?” she asked in a breathy voice as she placed her hands on his shoulders.
“It is,” he said, his voice full of quiet conviction. His hands, warm in the cool night air, settled on her waist, but they remained gentle. She could have brushed him off easily had she wished.
But she didn’t want that.
Her hands slid up his shoulders until they were looped around his neck. “There’s something you owe me.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“Well. You see…” She swallowed, gathering her courage. “Before you intervened with Lord Pritchard, it seems that I was on the cusp of receiving my first kiss.”
He snorted. “If I stopped that from happening, I would say thatyouare the one who owesme.”
The corner of her mouth twitched. “True. But you cannot deny that there is a certain logic. You deprived me of my first kiss. It is now incumbent upon you to make up for it.”
His hands came up to frame her face, and Rosalie’s heart started thundering like a cavalry charge. When he spoke, his voice was pitched half an octave lower than usual. “My darling Rosalie. If you want a kiss, there’s no need to resort to semantics.”
“No?” she asked, her voice emerging as a bit of a squeak.
“No,” he purred, stroking his thumb across her forehead. “All you need do is ask.”
He kissed her then, and—Lord help her!—it was a good thing she had looped her arms around his neck, because they were the only thing that prevented her from collapsing in a heap on the flagstones. Why did his lips upon hers feel so good? She touched her lips all the time. With her napkin. To apply some lip salve. When she took a bite of food. So, why had she not known that her lips were capable of feeling likethis?
She realized she was trembling, which was embarrassing, but she couldn’t seem to stop. Lucian promptly made things worse by emitting a growl, tilting his head to the side, and opening his mouth over hers. Rosalie was so startled that her mouth fell open, and the next thing she knew, his tongue was tangling with hers.
He tasted like sin. Well… strictly speaking, he tasted like brandy and citrus with a hint of woodsmoke. Perhaps it was more accurate to say that hefeltlike sin, and more accurate still to say that he made her feel like sinning. That he was temptation incarnate.
He slid his hands downward, stroking down her neck, traversing the length of her spine, and caressing her sides until they curved around her bottom. In any other circumstance, shewould have protested, but it felt so good, the word she gasped into his mouth was, “Please!”
Seizing her hips, he pulled her flush against him. This was a good thing, because Rosalie’s body suddenly felt very loose, as if she were held together with string and the slightest breeze might cause her to crumple to the floor. She somehow knew that if this were to happen, she would come to rest flat on her back with her thighs parted. Speaking of her thighs, they seemed to be the radial point around which the magical sensations coursing through her body were based. She felt strange and out of control of her own body, but in the best possible way.
