With each request, each offhanded suggestion she had tweaked his curiosity, then resorted to silence. It was only a matter of time before the beast within him awoke and roared, and Meredith knew she must be prepared to jump out of harm’s way or be devoured.
The marquess at last climbed the steps to the gazebo and took a few short steps inside. He folded his arms over his chest and glared down at her. Even in the semidarkness she could see his confusion.
Meredith turned her head and stared out into the darkness. She clasped her hands together tightly, wiggled her fingers free, then clasped them together again.
“Why are we here, Lady Meredith?”
“To enjoy the night air, my lord.”
“I think not.” The marquess lowered his head wearily and moved forward.
He took a seat on the wicker sofa and Meredith slid over to allow him room. A tension permeated the air. Meredith admonished herself to behave with sensibility and calm, though there was little of that regarding what she was about to do.
It had been at least a year since she had been kissed. She struggled to remember the subtle approach used by the many men who had wooed her, who had attempted a seduction and received a cool set down for their efforts.
Sweet, flowery phrases and forceful embraces would hardly work in this instance. What was needed was directness, yet the very idea nearly gave her hives.
She risked a glance at him. He appeared not to notice, for the marquess gave a small sigh and stretched out his long legs. For a moment she relaxed.All I need to do is wait. Before long he shall lean toward me, pull me into his embrace, and kiss me.
The notion was equally thrilling and comforting. But then Meredith clearly remembered the subtle nuances of the bet. It must be the spinster who kissed the rake. If that aspect of the wager was not met, she could not claim victory.
She turned expectantly toward him and her heart lurched. When she had lured him out here, her mind had been fixed on winning that ridiculous bet and proving to herself that she was not a prim and proper spinster. She intended only to steal a hearty, passionate kiss and then flee into the night before the marquess had time to recover his wits.
But as she gazed at his handsome profile in the semidarkness, she found herself wondering what it would be like to really kiss him, deep and slow and tender, with an intimate coupling of their tongues—to hold nothing back, to surrender completely to the hidden passion that lurked within her soul.
Knowing she had to act quickly, before her courage failed, Meredith moved closer to him. Her eyes remained fixed on his lips. He opened them to speak.
“Would you care to—”
Meredith lurched awkwardly forward and cut his words off with a kiss. For an instant she felt him stiffen—in surprise she fervently prayed, not revulsion.
She tried to keep the kiss light and soft, but she quickly found herself giving in to the temptation of his masculine beauty, sinking into the embrace, giving herself over to the emotions and excitement.
The marquess slanted his head to fit them closer together. Then his hand cupped the back of Meredith’s neck, drawing her forward. His hard lips softened, then opened slightly, allowing her to deepen the kiss.
Titillated at the invitation, Meredith slid her tongue inside, tasting the warmth of his mouth. A faint moan escaped. His? Hers?
She tried to ignore her quickening breath, the flush of desire that rushed through her. Her breasts began to swell, and a damp, tingling sensation fluttered between her legs.
In her heart, Meredith knew she should end the kiss. The bet had been well and truly won. There was no need to continue the physical contact.
Yet the event seemed to have taken on a life of its own that had nothing at all to do with the wager. As Meredith pressed her lips urgently on his, her hand reached up to touch his face. Her fingertips glided over the smooth line of his recently shaved jaw, enjoying the feel of his skin.
He gasped at her intimate touch. Meredith felt him tug urgently on the bodice of her gown. The marquess loosened several buttons and it gaped open. She cried out as he lowered his head and took the nipple of her left breast into his mouth. He tasted, licked, and suckled. Liquid heat curled though her body as his mouth and tongue feasted on her exposed flesh.
The faint sound of laughter and muted conversation drifted through the stillness of the night and reached Meredith’s ears.Good heavens, what am I doing?
“My lord! My lord!” Desperately she fought to retain a piece of her sanity, a modicum of her pride and dignity. The marquess lifted his head briefly, nuzzling the sensitive hollow of her neck. His lips moved higher, once again finding hers in a long, slow, thorough kiss. The heat inside her grew. Reality seemed to fade away. When he finally drew back, Meredith nearly forgot why she was trying to end this incredible interlude. “My lord . . . my lord . . . please, oh, please . . . Trevor . . . stop, we must stop or else we shall be discovered.”
He paused for a moment. His breath was coming in shallow gasps, and she noticed with awe that the hand reaching out to caress her cheek trembled slightly.
“You are a lovely surprise, Lady Meredith,” he whispered, his tone laced with wonder. “Your flesh feels like silk beneath my fingers, so soft, so smooth, so perfect. What a heady temptation you are, my dear, passionately responsive, sensually giving, a delight far too tempting to ignore. Are you certain we must stop?”
His eyes moved with undisguised longing over her still exposed breasts. Heat flooded Meredith’s cheeks. She was an idiot! How pompous and naive she was to think she could control a man of his sexual appetite and experience. She felt like an utter fool for allowing her wits to be swept away on a sea of pure desire.
“We could be discovered,” she whispered.
For a moment she thought he would argue the point with her, but then he nodded. “I shall have my carriage summoned so I may escort you home.”
