His thumb pressed against the pulse point at the base of her neck. “You don’t have to worry,” he murmured, eyes still intent on hers. “I will keep you safe.”
She wished she could tame the rapid thrumming of her heart, but that was as much out of her control as the liquid heat in the base of her stomach.
She wanted?—
Oh, she did not know what she wanted, but he was right here, and there was a rising need in her.
His gaze dropped to her lips. The hand around her waist tightened, bringing her closer still.
Then his mouth descended on hers.
She had never been kissed before, but she had read about kisses—her impression of them from novels was that they were largely chaste. Two mouths pressing against one another.
This was anything but chaste. As soon as his lips brushed hers, he moved them, opening her mouth. Then there was his tongue, and if she had thought about it objectively, she would have assumed she would dislike such an act, but here and now, it felt like it sent lightning through her body. She gasped, and he tugged her still closer. One hand slid around the back of her neck to hold her in place.
The idea of breaking free seized her, and she considered it. She could push him away. She knew that was what she ought to do, but her mind was scattered. All she understood was the feel of him, dark and certain and so utterly masculine, and the terrible, wicked things she wanted.
No.No.
She shoved him back, and he went without a fight, breathing heavily with a scant few inches of space between them.
What was she thinking? This was not some casual flirtation; this was theDuke of Marrowhurst, and she had justkissed him.
Clearly, she was out of her right mind. Suffering from a temporary burst of insanity.
Her lips tingled. She had to fight the urge to reach up and press her fingers to them as though to seal his kiss in place.
The Duke’s voice was cold as he said, “Forgive me, my lady.”
“Excuse me,” Thalia said, her voice trembling as she pushed away from him, out of the alcove?—
And away, away, away, back to the masquerade.
Anywhere but there.
CHAPTER 7
“How are matters developing between you and Lady Thalia?” Simon asked a few days later at White’s, a glass of brandy in his hand, one leg folded over the other.
Maxwell did his best not to tense. Ever since that ill-advised kiss, he had been doing his best to forget all about her. She had a tendency to make him lose control, and he could not allow that.
He ought to know better. A man of his age, with his experience, should not be so easily tempted by a mere girl. A lady with no experience and who, most notably, had rejected him in the past.
“In what manner?” Maxwell asked, keeping his voice disinterested.
“You were engaged, but you broke things off. Only, I’ve noticed the way you watch her.” Simon grinned over the rim of his glass, and Maxwell groaned, then gestured to a serving boy to bringhim more wine. “And so, I wondered, naturally, if you’d changed your mind about her.”
“Not in the slightest.”
“Even now, you’re acquainted with her beauty?”
Thalia’s beauty never failed to astound Maxwell—the lushness of her figure and the soft chocolate depth of her eyes. He doubted he would ever be acquainted with it.
He heaved a sigh. “I had heard rumors of her beauty before I ever met her. Seeing her in person changes nothing. We would not have suited.”
“And why is that?”
“We don’t like one another,” was the easiest response Maxwell could give, although the heat chasing through his body every time he thought about that kiss suggested something entirely different.
