Locking her gaze with his, Lady Amelia, the daughter of a bloody marquess, put her hands on the armrests and slowly stood up.
RULE NO. TWO
Amelia’s knees barely held her weight, but she wasn’t about to back down.
He called this a game. Had they been playing it all along?
Although some deep part of her conscience clawed and screamed in her ears, she deliberately ignored it. Was it her actual conscience, even? Ever since he’d cut her out of her stays, she’d begun questioning the rules she’d been taught to abide by.
She’d begun to question everything. Right and wrong. Good and bad. Love and hate.
The only thing that felt real was this constant dragging and tugging she felt toward this man.Mr. Beckworth. She imagined a piece of thread tied to each of them, winding itself into two spools, pulling them closer and closer together.
It drew her across the space between them, until she had planted her feet between his.
A pinging echoed around her insides like a bullet. This was oh, so very, very inappropriate.
He remained sitting, and since she was on the tall side, he had to tilt his head back to meet her eyes.
“You said that was rule number one. What are the others?” Amelia hardly recognized her own voice. It was low, thready.
But not unconfident.
She’d never wanted to be kissed so much as she wanted to be kissed by this man.
“Rule number two.” His midnight eyes bored into hers. “You stop when you want to stop. I stop when I want to stop. No exceptions. No expectations.” And then he added, “No crying.”
It was crystal clear that his rules were definitely not the same as the rules of society. In society, once a match was set in motion, both parties were committed.
More than two dances at a ball, andpoof!You’re engaged.
Caught alone in a room—poof!It’s a betrothal.
Change your mind at the altar? Too bad. It’s too late.
Anyone who refused to adhere to theton’sexpectations would be cut out—shunned.
In light of all that, Mr. Beckworth’s rules contrasted in a most appealing way. But she’d have to examine them more closely later. When she wasn’t so distracted by his hands, or his shoulders, or any of the other places she wanted to examine more closely instead.
She dipped her chin. “Very well.”
His arm snaked around her waist, and before she realized his intentions, she found herself seated on his lap, her legs across his thighs, hard and hot. And something else.
Something that couldn’t possibly be his pocket watch?—
She hadn’t been this close to him since he’d thrown her over his shoulder.
She didn’t understand why it felt so natural to slide her hand around his neck. But it did. And holding him like this drew their faces even closer together.
Engulfed in his hard warmth, all her senses came to life.
His rugged good looks stole her breath. Her heart pounded in her ears and his breath teased her nostrils with a scent that was raw and warm.
And spicy—not in a foreign way—but an exciting one.
The spools kept spinning, stretching the thread. Something must give soon lest it break.
Studying his eyes, she searched for something—anything—that would convince her that she was making a mistake. Finding just the opposite, she parted her lips.
