Screened from the view of their fellow guests by the slender fronds of a rather magnificentRavenea rivularis, Caroline’s breath caught in her lungs.They were not private—people danced and laughed and chattered obliviously on, mere paces away.But somehow, it suddenly felt as though they were the only two people at the ball.As though they could do anything they wished, and no one would know.
Curiosity, a so-called sin she had been encouraged in all her life, reared its head.Caroline waited to see what Lord Fitzwilliam was about.
The moment stretched between them, taut with tension.His gray eyes raked her from head to toe, making Caroline desperately aware of her body in a way that reminded her of how she felt after a long, arduous scramble over rocky terrain.She was aware of every beat of her blood, the shortness of her breath, the damp heat that rose to the surface of her skin.
They stared at one another in silence for a moment longer, just long enough for Caroline to become as aware of his large, finely made body as she was of her own.Finally, he spoke.
“I have no idea what you’re going on about, but you will leave my father out of your schemes, madame,” Lord Fitzwilliam commanded, and there was a growl in his voice that seemed to come from deep in his chest.It shivered over Caroline’s skin like a rough caress even as she fought to hold onto her equanimity.Her plans were too important to give up simply because this man wished it.
“Ah, but I can’t promise that.He is an integral part of my plan.”
His eyes flared with some strong emotion, but his sensually shaped lips curved into a smile.“You brazen little hussy.”
Caroline felt the back of her neck go warm, but she met his gaze boldly.“Why, Lord Fitzwilliam, you sound almost impressed.”
“Because I am!This is a level of husband-hunting to which most young ladies can only aspire.I feel I am in the presence of a human Diana, the goddess of the hunt.Except, of course, for the bacon-brained tactic you’ve undertaken of involving your prey’s son in your plot.”
Impatience throttled her.He seemed determined to misrepresent her purpose.“If you would only listen for a moment and let me explain?—”
Bracing one arm on the wall above her head, Lord Fitzwilliam loomed so close, the buttons of his embroidered waistcoat brushed the front of her gown.“There is nothing you could say that would induce me to deliver my father into your clutches.However, there is, perhaps, something you coulddo.”
His tone had gone dark and soft, like black velvet rubbing against every inch of Caroline’s exposed flesh.That sensation returned, of being extremely aware of her body and its surging excitement.Her heart felt as though it was trying to hammer through her rib cage to reach him.
He still didn’t understand what she was trying to accomplish and she knew she ought to make him listen, but for once in her life Caroline found that rational thought had quite deserted her.It was such an odd, unaccustomed feeling that she decided to follow where it led.
The wall behind her was cool and blessedly solid as she leaned against it and tilted her face up to his.“What do you want me to do?”
Hunger blazed across his face, transforming the chiseled perfection of his handsome features into a feral mask.A shudder wracked Caroline’s frame, tightening her nipples to hard peaks inside her chemise.Between her legs, she felt suddenly hot, slippery, and she shifted her thighs restlessly to chase the sensation.
“Kiss me,” he rasped, his stare devouring.“One kiss.To show me what a brazen little hussy might offer up in return for help securing a marquess.”
Caroline’s gaze dropped to his lips.She swallowed, distantly noting the way her own mouth felt tender and sensitive, as if yearning toward something.Without conscious volition, her body drew closer to his.
Utterly transfixed by her own response, Caroline let her arms lift as they seemed to want to do, so that her hands could glide over the broad slope of his shoulders, feeling the shape of the man beneath the fine wool coat.Her fingers clutched at thick muscle, greedy, tugging him down toward her until their quick, shallow breaths mingled and her lips parted and she stood on tiptoe and all the questions she’d ever had about mating and courtship and the bonds that drew two creatures together swirled into her head, and out again on the next breath.
If she did this, if she kissed him, she sensed she would finally have the answers to those questions.
How could she resist?Caroline stretched up onto her tiptoes, curling one hand around the nape of his neck for balance and cursing the damned glove that was in the way of feeling the silky brush of his hair against her skin.
“One kiss,” she breathed, gripped with feverish anticipation.“For science.”
He didn’t question her motives or wait for further permission.One large hand came up to cradle her face, then he tipped her head to the perfect angle to slot their lips together in a searing, breathtaking, mind-stealing kiss.
No wonder people make such fools of themselves for passion,she realized dazedly…if this is what it feels like.
ChapterThree
Fitz had lost his head.
Somewhere between first laying eyes upon Miss Caroline Quick and calling her a hussy, he had quite comprehensively kicked over the traces and run away with the carriage and now he was finding it next to impossible to rein himself back in.
Not with her in his arms like this, a lithe flame of a woman with a surprisingly strong grip and a frankly astonishing enthusiasm for the act of kissing.She tasted like fresh tea and raspberries with cream and everything nice.The way she moved against him, her lips seeking and hands petting, made all of Fitz’s blood drain out of his head and rush southwards.He took what she offered so generously, stroking deep with his tongue and reveling in the way she moaned into his mouth.
The air around them crackled; he was dimly surprised the potted palm shielding them from the rest of the ballroom had not exploded in a fireball, incinerated by the heat of this kiss, which he never wanted to end.
Oh, yes, right, the ballroom.Damn.
If Fitz were discovered debauching a young lady behind a potted palm, his father would have him dragged before the parson without another word.Even if the young lady in question was debauching him right back.Even if he was only kissing her to save his father from her clutches!
