Although a beautiful woman in her own right, she exuded common vulgarity. And something else: anger laced with an edge of desperation.
Mr. Goodnight, however, belonged to all the right clubs. A mild-mannered man, he often had his nose buried in some book or another. When he did bother to be sociable, it was usually so that he could argue literature, art, or something equally as boring.
“You certainly don’t take after your mother,” Marcus said carelessly. When she turned her head away from him, he realized it had been the wrong thing to say. Yes, Mrs. Goodnight was a beautiful woman, but every other aspect of her failed to appeal to him.
Whereas her daughter had a beauty all her own. Indeed, it didn’t jump up and bite a person upon first meeting, but it was there, hidden behind spectacles and dowdy dresses. And trapped within it, a sharp inquisitive mind.
“My mother has reminded me of that on multiple occasions. I’ve most of my looks from my father.”
Marcus laughed. “Your looks are all your own, Emily.”
She frowned and stared out the window. Perhaps he might pursue this line of conversation at another time.
Perhaps she’d rather pursue their previous topic.
“The mouth can bring about all sorts of sensual delights.”
She glanced back at him sharply. Ah, he had her attention once again.
Suddenly, he didn’t give a damn if she was a lady. They were about to be married, and she needed a bolster to her confidence.
Later, he’d reconsider his reasoning. But for now…
“Emily.” He leaned forward and swept the wisps of hair away from the slope where her neck curved into her shoulders. “You are absolutely perfect.” She shivered at his touch, but he was not deterred. With one hand on the leather seat behind her and the other sliding into her hair, he leaned forward and lowered his mouth to where her pulse fluttered rapidly.
“Oh,” she gasped and tilted her head so that he could have better access.
“Are you taking notes?” he asked softly against her skin. He sucked just enough to latch onto her flesh and then nipped gently with his teeth.
Another shiver. “Did you just… bite me?” He could tell she was making an attempt to chastise him but failed miserably as she turned her head and sighed.
“I did.” He nipped lightly at her earlobe. “Is that acceptable to you?” And then he exhaled around the shell of her ear. God, but she aroused him. He paused, awaiting her answer. “Emily?”
“Er… yes. I rather think I liked that.” Her voice rasped just a little. “May, I… ah… may I try?”
Damn, but he’d gone hard. He shifted in his seat and reluctantly removed his mouth from the curve of her cheek. Her eyelids looked heavy, and her cheeks were flushed. But as he sat back, she gathered her wits and focused her intent upon him.
Curious but determined hands reached up and began deftly untying his cravat. She didn’t seem nervous, as he thought she might. No, she worked the intricate knot efficiently before unwinding the silk from his neck. She then unfastened the three buttons at the top of his shirt and opened his collar.
Marcus relished her every move. She’d undressed him as though he were a priceless work of art. His breath caught as the inquisitiveness in her eyes shifted to excitement.
She met his gaze as though seeking his permission. Marcus nodded.
Except she was much smaller than him. When she went to climb onto her knees, the carriage bounced, and she nearly slipped off the bench. “It would be easier, perhaps,” Marcus suggested innocently, “if you sat on my lap.”
Emily licked her lips, placed one hand upon his shoulder, and then eased herself across his legs. “Yes,” she managed to say. “I see your point.” The level of her mouth was now even with his neck.
She perched so closely that her scent engulfed him. Sweet, clean… pure. She wrinkled her nose a moment and then removed her glasses. “Would you mind keeping them in your pocket?” This simple question crushed him… because he knew. He knew how vital they were to her.
He slipped them into his pocket and patted it safely.
As though stalling, suddenly, she pushed some hair away from her face. She tipped her head forward and peered at him closely. “So interesting that you have hair here.” She drew an imaginary line from the top of his chest to his waist.Lower, his mind demanded.Drop that hand lower.
His muscles clenched when she stopped where his shirt tucked into his breeches. “You enjoy being touched.” It wasn’t a question.
“Not always.” He surprised himself with this answer. But no, he didn’t like the courtesans and widows to explore his body. He liked them to take him into their mouths, he liked to plunge into them from behind, but truth be told, he normally didn’t ever kiss them.
“But you enjoy me touching you like this?” This time itwasa question.
