Apparently he did, for he moved closer, and his hand brushed her cheek in the gentlest of caresses. She drew in a sharp breath, her heart hammering as fiercely as when she’d first realized they were trapped.
That lovely fresh scent filled her senses and made her head spin. But then. Oh, then he pressed his lips to hers. Soft. A light brush. And she wasn’t certain whether she was pleased or disappointed.
What had she expected?
She had little time to ponder the question when his other hand slipped around her waist and pulled her closer. The press of his lips became more insistent, demanding. He tasted good. Not sweet, but like the finest wine. Fruity with hints of oak. The kind you wanted to savor and roll around on your tongue.
Heady, like the wine she’d been imagining, the kiss stole her breath and drove all sense from her.
Goodness! With kisses like the one she was experiencing, no wonder women risked compromise.
Vaguely aware that his hand moved behind her head and threaded into her hair, she mimicked his movement and slid her fingers through his thick auburn locks.
He moaned into her mouth.
Perhaps she didn’t hate Lord Grump as much as she thought.
Reckless.Foolish. Ungentlemanly. Derogatory words pinged around in Colin’s skull like billiard balls unable to find the pocket.
But the moment he touched his lips to the Faerie Princess, he admitted he’d wanted to do just that from the moment he’d first laid eyes on her.
She was everything he shouldn’t want.
But did.
He didn’t intend for the kiss to become so out of control.
But, dear God, her soft moan of pleasure slipped under his skin,igniting a fire that eroded his self-control. He wanted to plunder her mouth, to kiss her until she couldn’t breathe. Hell, until they were both out of breath.
Which, in all honesty, was happening at that very moment.
His lungs screamed for him to pull back and give them the air they needed, but his own desire to continue kissing her won the battle.
The fiery enchantress in his arms scraped her fingernails across his scalp, and he returned her moan in his own baritone.
With a none-too-gentle press of his tongue to her lips, he requested entrance, and, to his masculine satisfaction, she complied.
And oh, the sweetness, the soft flesh of her mouth was better than he imagined.
Lost. Utterly lost.
Apparently so lost, he failed to hear the click as the door unlocked and swooshed open. Failed to notice the light spilling into the tight space.
“What is the meaning of this!” a man’s voice demanded.
His mind still on that luscious kiss, Colin blinked, removing his hands from Miss Weatherby and shielding his eyes.
Light rimmed Andrew Weatherby as he glared down at Colin. His daughter, Indira, peeked behind her father, a hand pressed to her mouth to stifle her giggles.
Mr. Weatherby’s gaze darted to his sister’s torn sleeve, and Colin’s future brother-in-law held out his hand. “Come here, Anne.”
Colin rose first and offered to assist Miss Weatherby off the floor, but she declined and stood on her own.
Had he been mistaken, and she had not enjoyed the kiss as much as he did? Surely not. Not the way she kissed him back. Would she refuse his offer? Would her brother insist she accept? Would there be a challenge and yet another match with real épées—the next time with the intention of drawing first blood?
So many questions raced through Colin’s mind. But first things first. “Allow me to explain about Miss Weatherby’s gown.”
Weatherby’s eyebrows rose so far up his foreheadthey nearly disappeared beneath the red hair falling across his brow. “Unless my own eyes deceive me, no explanation is necessary.” He turned toward his sister. “Anne, go to the green parlor and stay with Alice until I call for you. I need to have a word with Lord Manning.”
