Free-thinking, fearless, outspoken Penelope Crone was crying in his arms.
And it felt right.
Not that she was crying, but that he was the one she trusted enough to let down her guard.
Hugh was quite certain she’d nearly fainted again in the ballroom. A lady who’d never so much as even considered carrying smelling salts.
Yes, there was definitely something wrong with Penelope. Was she ill? Was she being blackmailed by somebody? What would cause a lady to travel halfway across the country for no reason and begin having fainting spells?
“Won’t you tell me what is upsetting you? Please?” He bent forward and tipped her chin up so that she was looking at him.
She was no longer pale. A little splotchy-looking now, actually. But her eyes looked even greener than normal and again, he noticed the tiny blue specks. The look of hopelessness on her face was heartbreaking. “Ah, sweetheart, nothing can be that bad.”
“Oh, Hugh,” she sniffed and buried her head back under his chin.
“I mean,” he said casually, “I realize that ladies are required to accept a gentleman’s invitation to dance, and you could not refuse Pinkerton, but really, was dancing with him as bad as all this?”
A broken laugh escaped her. “He smelled awful!”
“Ah, I see.” He chuckled at her comment. Pinkerton may be an earl, but she quite had the right of it. How his valet held his head up amongst his peers, Hugh would never know.
Without thinking, Hugh kissed the top of her head. Why had he never realized what a gorgeous color her hair was?
She did not smell awful. She smelled feminine and soft, just as a woman ought to smell.
He’d always thought of Penelope as being pointy and sharp, but she was neither of those things. She felt soft and rounded. She was, in fact, curvy everywhere. Her shoulders were nicely rounded, and her waist dipped inward, just so. On impulse, he put one arm under her legs and lifted her onto his lap. She moved to protest but it was short lived as he wrapped her in his arms and tucked her head down on his shoulder.
No, Penelope was not pointy nor sharp. When had she become such a… woman?
She wiggled a little, as though to edge off his lap but Hugh held tight to her. “Stay put, Pen. I demand you tell me what is troubling you.”
“I—I—”
“Don’t tell me it’s nothing. You did not travel to Manchester due to boredom, now did you? And you did, in fact, faint that day in the library. Just now, in that ballroom, you nearly fainted or worse, again. Now tell me what it is.”
She didn’t say anything for a few moments. He assumed she was either gathering her courage or trying to formulate a fictional answer. He waited.
“You are going to hate me, Hugh.” She let out a deep sigh but turned her face to look at him. He could see a smattering of freckles sprinkled across her nose and under her eyes. She had a bit more color now. Their positions suddenly felt very intimate.
“I don’t think I could ever hate you, Penelope.” The bow of her mouth suddenly held his gaze captive. Dusty pink, that’s what he would call her lips. They looked plump and sweet and tender. He leaned in and tasted. And when he did, there was no denying that he’d been thinking of doing so for quite some time now.
There was no need to coax her. She was as ready as he. Their tongues dueled, engaged, and then danced before she surrendered and allowed him to explore.
He unfurled a low growl before tightening his arms, drawing her closer. At the same time, one of her hands reached up and fluttered along his ear and cheek. She was hampered by her gloves. He wanted to feel her skin touching him.
He wanted to tasteherskin.
Turning his head, he grasped the fabric on the end of her index finger with his teeth and tugged with a wicked snarl.
The satin material slid off easily. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted to undress more than just her hand.
And now her fingers were in his hair.
Hugh trailed his lips along her jaw.
“Hugh,” she murmured. “Hugh, we mustn’t. I mustn’t. Anyone could come out here.”
In spite of her words, he could feel that her heart was racing, and her breaths were uneven. But she was right. He halted his journey along her collarbone and waited a moment to slow his own racing libido. It would be disastrous if they were discovered.
