Dear God… Rosie,she thought with horrified remorse.What have I done?
Chapter Eleven
I made her come with a kiss.
Awareness permeated Sinjin as Polly entered the breakfast parlor the next morning. He was seated between her sister and sister-in-law at the table, and they continued to chatter away, not yet aware of her presence. But for him everything faded; his senses focused entirely on her.
She looked ill-rested, her eyes smudged with shadows. She’d tried to contain her hair in a severe knot, and she was wearing one of her usual drab gowns. But he barely registered her unflattering trappings because he knew the treasures that lay beneath them.
Cherry-sweet lips. Feminine curves that overflowed his palms.
The purest, most wanton heat he’d ever experienced.
He rose as she approached the table. It was a damned good thing he was wearing a frock coat and not a cutaway that would have revealed the extent of his body’s reaction to her. Christ, what was it about her that made him, a worldly rake, feel like the veriest greenling?
It might have something to do with her going off like a Roman candle from just a kiss.
Goddamn.That had been a first, even for him.
“There you are, Pols!” Next to him, Miss Primrose gave a dazzling smile. “I was telling the earl that you’re usually the first at the breakfast table.”
“I, um, slept later than usual,” Polly said.
Seated on his other side, Mrs. Kent said with sympathy, “Restless night?”
“Something like that.” Rosy color suffused Polly’s cheeks.
When he bade her good morning, she mumbled a reply, avoiding his gaze. How did she manage to look both wretched and adorable at once? he thought broodingly as she conversed with the other ladies. And why in God’s name did he think she was adorable when he knew, for a fact, that she was the most frustrating female he’d ever met—and a virgin, to make matters worse?
When it came to sex, he had only one inviolate rule: stay away from the uninitiated. Seducing an innocent meant marriage, which would be nothing short of a catastrophe for a man like him. What proper lady could accept his dark demon’s insatiable appetites? When that side of him took over, he craved fucking, could do it for hours; more than once, he’d worn out a trio of wenches and still hadn’t been satisfied. What sweet little virgin could put up with that? Or his irritability and devilish temper?
Then there was his other side. His gut tightened in shame. The thought of exposing that wretched, pathetic part of himself sickened him. One time, the blue devil had struck during a weekend of debauchery at a friend’s country house. He’d woken from the high of the previous evening to find himself suddenly plunged low into the abyss of his own private hell. One of the strumpets, clearly wanting to reap the most from her invested time, had made advances upon him… and he’d been unable to respond.
Can’t get a stiff breeze blowin’, luv? Lie back and let me take care o’ you…
Even her experienced wiles couldn’t compete with the boulder of despair crushing him. Her paid touch had amplified the gaping emptiness inside him, and curled on his side, he’d lay there like a mule… a bloody dull knife. Finally, she’d given up with a disgusted huff, leaving him steeped in humiliation and self-loathing.
Last night, however, his iron-clad rule had been blown to smithereens. Polly’s wanton innocence had inflamed him as nothing ever had. A simple kiss with her had been more titillating than an orgy with a bevy of whores. He’d let things go too far with her, and, when he’d regained his senses, he’d been disgusted at himself. Angry and appalled at his lack of self-control—that he’d started something he knew he couldn’t bring to an honorable conclusion.
When he’d tried to apologize, Polly had thrown it back in his face. She thought nothing of their “encounter,” did she? And it hadn’t been her first?
Who the bloody hell kissed her before me?
A foreign emotion gripped him. It took him a moment to recognize it as… jealousy? Christ, he’d never felt possessive of a woman before, and that didnotbode well. He savagely shoved the feeling aside as he watched Polly head over to the sideboard. He needed to rid himself of his mad fascination with the chit. Things hadn’t ended well last night—in large part due to her—but he would be the bigger person. He’d apologize again, patch up any damage, and wash his hands of her entirely.
A capital plan.
As soon as he judged it not too obvious, he excused himself from the table to join her at the sideboard. By the way she stiffened, he knew she was aware of his presence, but she continued to peruse the silver-domed dishes lining the buffet as if they contained the key to the mysteries of the universe.
Mindful of the passing servants, he said in a low voice, “We ought to talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” She lifted a lid and scooped coddled eggs onto her plate without sparing him a glance.
“I owe you an apology for what happened last night.”
“Fine. You’ve apologized.” A rasher of bacon joined the eggs.
Dealing with the blasted chit was proof positive of why he’d always avoided her kind. Nonetheless, he gritted his teeth and said, “I made a mistake—”
