In an instant, without another word, the young gentleman melted into the shadows as if he’d never been there at all, vanishing before Severin had even finished speaking. He abandoned Allegra with an unflattering haste that left her fuming. Whatever else he was, Mr Englishby, it seemed, was a coward, and he was all too obviously frightened of Mr Severin.
She probably should be too, but she wasn’t. Or only a little – enough to be thrilling. They stood, confronting each other, moving instinctively back into the safety of concealment. Allegra was aware that this man hadn’t uttered her name – if anyone was eavesdropping but couldn’t see her, they’d still have no idea who she was. She must be grateful for that, she supposed, if for nothing else. But what did this infuriating creature want? It was foolish to be curious – she should instead make her escape right now. He’d rescued her from Englishby and from her own imprudence – not that she’d wanted that in the least – but it would be foolish to imagine that anyone was going to rescue her from him.
She didn’t take so much as a step away. ‘That was nothing but a lie,’ she hissed rashly. It was hard to be adequately and satisfyingly angry when you were obliged to whisper your invective. ‘You said my mother sent you, and that was a shameless lie. She doesn’t even know you and she’d never do such a thing even if she did. She’d come herself, and drag me back inside like a naughty schoolgirl.’
‘I will bow to your superior knowledge of your parent, but the rest of what you say is perfectly correct,’ he replied, annoyingly unruffled, perpetually amused. ‘You see, I thought the mention of your alarming mama would be the most effective way to get rid of the young idiot. And I was right, which is gratifying.’
She wasn’t in the least mollified by this admission. ‘He was right too, when he said that whatever he and I were doing out here was none of your affair.’
‘Whateveryouweredoing?I think it’s painfully obvious what you were doing. Or about to do.’
She blazed, quietly, ‘And what of it? It has nothing in the world to do with you, sir! I know you dislike me?—’
‘Oh, there you are fair and far off,’ he interrupted smoothly. ‘I don’t dislike you, Miss Constantine. On the contrary, I desire you.’
She was silent for a long moment, thunderstruck, a tide of hot blood surging through her body. Nobody had ever said such a thing to her before – nothing close to it. People didn’t say such things at all, in her limited experience. Was this real enough for her? Eventually she managed to respond, stiffly, ‘I have never had the least notion that I should consider you one of my suitors…’
‘I congratulate you on your good sense. I am not one of those poor gentry.’ When she made no reply to this insulting remark, he went on, his deep voice very low, his body so close that she had a fancy she could feel the warmth of him on the bare skin of her arms and neck and upper chest, ‘You will no doubt informme if I am mistaken, I know I can trust you for that, but it seemed to me that this fine evening, madam, you were determined to be kissed. What could be more natural, on a warm night in June? And seeing that, all at once it was unendurable to me that that popinjay should be the lucky man. He doesn’t deserve it and wouldn’t appreciate it properly. So I followed you, and here I am, at your service.’
‘You think I want to kissyou?’ she gasped. Her tones were uneven, and even in her confusion she was sorry to show him that much emotion. It was very hard to believe that this was really happening. Was she dreaming? Perhaps it would be safer to accept that she was.
‘I think you want to kiss somebody. And I also think…’ Here his hand came out, ungloved, and one long finger traced the full outline of her lip before she could find it in herself to pull away. She had an odd fancy that she might turn her head and take that insolent finger into her mouth. What then? Would she nip at it? She was possessed by a sudden strong urge to do so, and though she’d often wanted to bite someone before, usually one of her sisters, and very occasionally had given in to the temptation, it had not been anything at all like this. ‘I also think you’d rather not kiss someone who will take that simple embrace as a tacit promise that you’ll marry him. Such kisses are traps, and you of all people should beware being caught. I don’t think you want to marry any of them.’
‘I don’t know whether I do or not, that’s the problem,’ she said, and cursed herself for her stupid honesty as soon as the words were uttered.
‘You just want to kiss and be kissed,’ he said with odious confidence.
‘I don’t see how you can imagine that you know such a thing about me,’ she said crossly. Though she had not referred to it byword or gesture and nor had he, his fingers were slowly and lightly, so very lightly trailing across her cheek now, and then down her neck. Another first. She was trembling, she realised. It should be fear or anger, she knew it should, but it wasn’t. She had no wish to put a name to what it was.
‘But I do know it. I am quite sure of it. Am I wrong?’
‘You may not dislike me, but I dislike you!’
‘I daresay. What of it? I’m not sure Ilikeyou either – what a boring word for a boring emotion. I haven’t said I do, you know. The fact is, I have not wasted time considering the matter, and I may in fact be perfectly indifferent to your character, as much as I know of it. But that doesn’t prevent me wanting – very much – to take you in my arms and put my mouth on yours.’
‘Don’t you have to like people to want to kiss them?’ she breathed, though if she were being truthful with herself, she’d not have needed to ask. More new information. Among all her confusion, she was honestly interested. Men were very odd, her mother had said, and it seemed she had been annoyingly correct. Women too, perhaps.
‘Of course not!’ he said, and took a firm hold of her, drawing her into his arms.
7
Max had not, he thought, come outside with the express intention of kissing Allegra Constantine in a shrubbery. But then if he hadn’t, he might well ask himself what in damnation hehadbeen about. He’d certainly had no interest in watching her set to it with Englishby – some men cared for that sort of thing, he knew, but he was not one of them. He’d much rather be a participant in life than a spectator. As with pugilism, so with… kissing debutantes in flowering bushes. Apparently. It wasn’t something he’d been making a habit of, not since his own callow youth. Then, of course, he’d been notorious for it. But he didn’t want to think about that just now. He didn’t want to think at all, but merely tofeel.
He would have stopped instantly if she’d said no, or if she’d stiffened in his arms and merely endured his embrace, shown any sign of fear or reluctance or even insufficient enthusiasm. But after a brief moment of what he thought must be disbelief, she had begun kissing him back with equal fervour. Her arms were about his neck, her body pressed to his. All of her body.
God, she was delicious. Her lips opened to his, and when histongue slid in to taste her more fully, hers came by instinct to meet it. When he sucked on her delectably full lower lip – the one that made her pout so sulkily – and then nipped at it with his teeth, she moaned, the Devil take him if she didn’t, and returned the favour. The jolt her wicked teeth set through his whole frame was almost enough to undo him.
Since it seemed he was eighteen again – and if he’d laid claim to his habitual iron self-control at this point, he’d have been a shameless liar – he found himself kissing his way down her bare neck. She’d put her head back to allow him that privilege, and her gloved fingers were buried deep in his hair. Her touch wasn’t gentle or delicate, it was too honestly urgent for that, but he liked it. His hands were about her waist, under her breasts, though there was no guarantee at all they’d stay there. Perhaps he was indeed king of the world tonight, and even the cursed Bonaparte or the Grand Turk might envy him. He felt as though he was, in this moment. All he desired or could imagine desiring, warm and willing in his arms.
But he’d been here before, hadn’t he? In another garden, with another woman, years ago. The circumstances had been very different, his companion not a virtual stranger to him like Miss Constantine, but he had good reason to know the consequences of getting caught, and they would be the same, with no chance of escape this time. Matrimony. He dared not risk it; it would mean disaster. The thought was so unwelcome that he froze, his lips soft on the upper slope of her breast, this thumb cruelly halted in its mission to creep up and find her erect nipple and caress it.
He sighed, a deep exhalation of pure, bone-deep regret, and stood upright, letting his hands rest on her more lightly, though he couldn’t bring himself to let her go yet, for several excellent reasons. ‘That’s enough, I think, don’t you, ma’am?’
There wasn’t much light out here, or they’d not be in this fix,but he didn’t need to see her face clearly to know that the flush of concupiscence was being replaced by confusion, and then by hot shame. In a moment, he thought, she’d run from him, too overset to know where she was going or the trouble she might find herself in as a result. But she must not; he must not let her.
‘No,’ he said, steadily but with urgency, still holding her. His body still responded animalistically to hers, his body didn’t want to stop, but his damned inconvenient brain knew better. ‘Don’t leave me like this. If anyone sees you now, they’ll know exactly what you’ve been doing, even if not with whom. But that doesn’t matter – you’ll be ruined. Reflect for a moment and you’ll see that I am right.’
‘Ruined…’ she said slowly.
