“Is that a question?”
She gritted her teeth, feeling the distinct urge to stomp her foot. How could he be so nonchalant? Was he being purposefully obtuse? He was acting as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t spent a couple of hours with another woman practically on his lap—as if he hadn’t left with her...alone.
“No, it is not a question.” Her foot might have indeed moved up and down. “Yes, it’s a question. Are you marrying her?”
He wasn’t kind enough to betray any of his thoughts with his expression. God knew, he probably thought she was a crazy woman—she was certainly acting like it.
“Is there any reason I shouldn’t?”
“I thought...”Marry me. She flushed. “You don’t love her.”
There was more of a question in her voice than she intended. This time both brows shot up in surprise. “I wasn’t aware that was a prerequisite for marriage. Indeed, I seem to recall you telling me differently.”
The challenge in his eyes never let up. Only when she shifted her gaze to the floor did it release her. She stood there miserable, wanting to cry, but unable to deny his words.
He was right, and she had no right to interfere. Lady Marjorie would make him a good wife. She didn’t want him to change his plans for her, did she? What about Randolph?
His accusations at Roxburgh came back to her. Was she still thinking of him as hers? Still assuming he would always be there for her?
He wasn’t hers, and she shouldn’t be here.
He crossed the distance between them, lifting her face to his with the back of his finger under her chin. His voice was husky and tender. “I’m not marrying her, Elizabeth.”
She scanned his face, blinking back tears. “You’re not?”
He shook his head. “I told her circumstances had changed, and it was no longer possible.”
“Oh.”
“Aye, oh.”
The sense of relief that she had no right to feel was overwhelming. She stared into his eyes, not knowing what to say.
His hand was still holding her chin, but one thumb had moved over to caress her lower lip. “I want you, sweetheart. Only you. And my marrying Lady Marjorie for the wrong reasons when I love someone else would be just as wrong as you marrying Randolph. Besides, in case I wasn’t clear the other night, I’ve already asked you to marry me.”
“Thom, I...”Can’t. But before she could get the word out to refuse, his mouth was on hers, and all she could think was that nothing had ever felt more right.
Their first two kisses had been an explosion of passion, their third a tender expression of love, and this one... this was a lesson in seduction.
He wooed her with his lips and enticed her with his tongue, the long, slow strokes licking deep into her mouth, hinting and promising so much more.
He teased, he tempted, he gave her a taste of the carnal pleasures that awaited her if she succumbed before slowly retreating.
It was a masterful dance calculated to drive her mad with wanting.
It worked.
She couldn’t get enough of him. His heat. His taste. She wanted to sink into the warmth of his embrace and never let go.
She gripped him harder, sliding her arms around his neck to press her body more fully against his.
She moaned.
He groaned.
The kiss intensified. She could feel his control slipping away. Feel the gentle seduction take on a harder, more purposeful edge.
He cupped her bottom, lifting her against him, and the feel of him big and hard, pounding between her legs and against her stomach, turned her warm and melty and filled her with a wicked craving. A craving for more.
