He gave a mock wince. “I did sound foolish when we first met.”
She didn’t deny it.
“I do apologize for that.” He sighed heavily. “I suppose I was just a bit… unnerved at the time. I had recently attended the funeral of my closest friend, a man as devoted to carnal pursuits as I was, and it made me… wake up and realize that the body being lowered into the ground and covered with dirt could have easily been me.”
He sounded so forlorn and… lost in that moment that Dove reached out her hand and placed it over the one holding the potato. He instantly stilled and set both the vegetable and the knife to the side, clasping her hand in the warmth of his.
Suddenly, the air thickened and sucked the breath from her lungs. Dove’s focus dropped to his mouth and she licked her lips in anticipation of his kiss. In turn, his eyes darkened to a mixture of mossy green and mahogany. With his free hand, he reached across the counter and cupped her cheek in his palm. She couldn’t resist the temptation he offered and closed her eyes momentarily as she relaxed her head in his embrace. “My lovely, Dove…”
The kiss was both slightly unexpected yet, at the same time, entirely wanted. In truth, she hadn’t ever wanted anything more. It was wrong, it was wicked, but… perhaps she had a small bit of rebellion coursing through her veins too. She had never allowed herself this sort of abandon—not even when her young, naïve heart had been shattered by another scoundrel.
Could it be that she was like Eve and drawn to the forbidden fruit? The viscount was far from just being an apple, but he could make it so that she was an outcast all the same.
Even though she cautioned herself time and again about Lord Markel, when his mouth was moving against hers, and the blood was rushing through her veins, she found it difficult to resist him. The desire was more potent than the most intoxicating elixir, and she was starting to fall hard under his spell.
As the kiss deepened, Dove leaned as far over the counter as possible, trying to move closer to his warmth. He met her halfway, but still, it wasn’t enough. She wanted to be pressed fully against him, to feel his strong length flush against her.
“Cain…” She hadn’t meant to address him so informally, or speak his name aloud at all, but it wasn’t in vain, as he made a deep growl in his throat as he pulled away from her.
He held her face in both of his hands, his eyes shining with a passion so undeniable that it made her gasp. “My name sounds so damned good falling from those beautiful lips. Say it again,” he commanded.
She swallowed. “Cain.” It was a whisper, but his gaze darkened even more. He released her only long enough to move around the counter and draw her back within the circle of his arms. He backed her up against the counter where there was no escape. This time when he kissed her, it was just as ruthless as he’d claimed he’d been in his youth.
Shivers of delight danced throughout her body. and she told herself that she would end it soon. Just a few more moments to enjoy this blessed torment.
But that was before his hand slid across her breast. His palm rubbed over her aching nipple, and she tore her mouth from his with the intent to put an end to it all. Words failed her as his other hand teased the other mound. She moaned, and he rewarded her response by leaving a trail of scorching kisses along the length of her collarbone and the edge of her bodice.
“I want to devour you, to savor every inch of you until you’re no longer moaning my name, you’re screaming it.”
Dove was instantly hot and cold at the same time. “Show me.”
He abruptly stilled, and while she was bold enough to find out what he might have done next, the door opened and the interruption was enough for her to come back to her senses. Blinking, as if she’d truly been hypnotized by the viscount, she moved away from him and immediately busied herself at the opposite end of the kitchen.
“You’ve put the viscount to work? Really, Dove, he is our guest.”
“It wasn’t Dove, Mr. Meriwether. I offered my assistance.” There was a brief pause, but she was too much of a coward to turn around and face him just yet. Her hands were still trembling from the fire that had yet to abate in her veins. “But as much as I would love to keep my promise of staying for dinner, I forgot that I promised Mrs. Decker I would help her this evening at the inn. She found out I have a particular skill for repairs, and I’ve become something of her personal handyman that she likes to rent out to the villagers.”
Her father laughed. “That does sound like Mable. She is always willing to spread the talents of others to those in need. While I daresay I’m disappointed, I shall endeavor to tear you away from her before you return to London.”
“Of course.” Another hesitation. “Good day, Miss Meriwether.”
She made a show of wiping her hands on a strip of linen, although she said over her shoulder, “Lord Markel.”
Dove waited anxiously for the sound of the door to open and close before she finally turned back around. Her father was still there, and she gave him her brightest smile. “Supper will be ready shortly, Papa.”
Chapter Eight
Dove couldn’t sleep that night. Instead, she tossed and turned in her bed until the sheets were a tangled mess about her legs. Finally, she gave up and threw her robe on and headed down to the parlor with a candle in her grasp to light the way.
She glanced at the clock on her bedroom mantel and saw that it was nearly two in the morning. As she padded on bare feet down the hall, she could hear her father’s snores coming from his closed chamber door. If only she had been so lucky in pushing aside the memory of Cain and his wicked kisses. She must be very evil, indeed, to continue harboring such depraved thoughts about the viscount. It was just like when the last scoundrel had ridden through the village—except it was so much worse now.
While she had barely escaped with her virginity still intact, the only thing she’d managed to salvage from that brief, torrid affair, she knew that if Cain were to lure her away alone, those fiery kisses wouldn’t end until she was completely ruined and beyond redemption for herself.
She set her candle on a nearby table and searched the few titles that were on the shelves, hoping that she could lull herself to sleep with one of her father’s books, most of which were dedicated to the written Word of God. While some of the stories she read in the Bible were quite interesting, the books that people wrote around their own interpretations were not as captivating.
She chose Sermons to Young Women, one of her least favorite titles in her father’s collection, mainly because she thought it was nonsense. Ladies should be meek and nothing more than a glorified watering pot of beauty? Utter ridiculousness.
However, she practically knew every word by heart, as her father had approved of James Fordyce’s depiction of how a proper lady should act, and since Dove didn’t have her mother there to teach her about being a woman, it fell to the good Reverend.
