“Truly?” she asked. “Liltingnotes. Are you offering me flummery, my lord?”
He shook his head. “I am not. I swear it.”
Vincent traced her mouth with the pad of his thumb while still cradling her head. It was a small journey from touching her lips to leaning down and kissing them. And he made that journey swiftly.
“Mmm,” she moaned softly under him.
The sound was intoxicating, making him feel reckless as he gave in to the strong desire coursing through his veins.
Pressing her back, they were now nearly horizontal on his divan, where he often stretched out either trying to recall ameasure or for a refreshing nap. It had never occurred to him that he would one day have an exquisitely soft and shapely female under him upon the red velvet cushion.
He never broke the kiss, but instead, slanted his head and nibbled on her plump lower lip.
She slid her hands to his shoulders, and he settled in as best he could with her taut skirts being the only impediment. In truth, they were formidable. He could not feel the heat of her core, nor learn if she were on fire with passion for him. Regardless, he had no doubt she could feel the length of his arousal resting against her inner thigh.
Behaving extremely badly, Vincent brushed the hair from her forehead and then lifted his body enough to slide his hand between them and cup her breast. Just as his thumb had caressed her mouth, now it played across her nipple through the thin summer fabric of her gown and petticoat.
“Oh!”she exclaimed. “I like that.”
Her nipple pearled satisfyingly under his touch, while he nibbled a path along her chin and down her arching neck. Vincent wanted to suck her stiffened rosebud between his lips — and his better self warred with his baser one as to how much he could get away.
Before he could give in and draw her peaked nipple into his mouth or explore more of her luscious physique, he heard carriage wheels on his drive. His frustration soared.
With haste, not lingering in case his capable butler entered the room to announce his visitors, Vincent rolled off Brilliance. Not catching himself in time, he ended up flat on his back on the Persian carpet, staring at his conservatory ceiling.
Brilliance’s warm laughter rained down on him, and he joined in. The tension of pent-up desire dissipated a little, enough for him to rise somewhat inelegantly. Then reaching out his hand, he drew her to her feet before surveying her quickly, head to toe.
She looked, frankly, a little frowsy. Her lips were extra red, and her curls were no longer smooth but frizzy. Then there was the matter of her neckline.
“Your gown is a little ... uh” — he gestured with his pointer finger — “askew.”
“Is it?” She sounded dreamily distracted.
“And your bonnet is missing,” he added.
He heard Mr. Jordan’s polished shoes, accompanied by others, on the tile floor beyond the closed door.Why hadn’t they left the door open?That was an egregious error!
“Quickly now.” He snatched the silly telltale bonnet off the low table and captured her hand. Together, they ran to the other end of the room.
Opening the door built into the wall and covered with the same red and gold-flecked wallpaper as the rest of the room, he shoved her through into the narrow servants’ passage.
He heard his butler’s light tap.
“That door to the right,” Vincent told Brilliance. “Go through and into the small salon across the hall. There’s a standing mirror. Return by the main hallway.”
He hesitated until she went in the right direction, although moving too slowly for her own good. Then he closed the door.
The tapping repeated.
He ran to his piano and sat once more upon the bench.
“Come,” he called. Hearing people enter his conservatory behind him, Vincent ran a hand through his hair, while hoping nothing about him was in great disarray. He dare not look down.
Instead, he turned to face his cousin and the Colonel.
Brilliance felt asthough she were floating on clouds while examining herself in the looking glass. How fortunate Vincent kept one in the violet-and-cream chamber with a lamp and two wingback chairs in plum-colored velvet.
There were bric-a-brac on shelves, some books stacked on the floor, and a generous-sized wooden lap desk with pages on it, but she determinedly didn’t allow herself to become distracted. After all, she’d recalled hearing a carriage, and undoubtedly, her hosts had arrived.
