There was agreement, and Michael started to relax until Dara whispered, “Don’t move. I don’t trust them. They are canny wenches.”
He obeyed, and realized it was not a problem to stay here this close to her. Not a problem at all.
She was tense in his arms. He edged closer, telling himself he wanted to reassure her.
And then she looked up at him.
He couldn’t tell what she was thinking, and yet her hip rested alongside his. Her shoulder was tucked under his arm. Her breast pressed against his chest. Her nipples had hardened. He could feel them—
“If they were out here, they would have responded to our leaving,” Lady Byrne said, her voice like a shot in the quiet.
Both Michael and Dara gave a start, but instead of moving away from each other, they drew closer. “I told you,” Dara mouthed.
“Let’s go in,” Lady Byrne ordered crisply. This time, the words were followed by the sound of footsteps moving away.
Dara released the breath she had been holding.She leaned against him as if she valued his presence. “I warned you. Canny.”
He nodded—but he wasn’t thinking of the Byrnes or even Sir Duncan or anything other than that, right now, she was in his arms, and she felt good.
She turned, looked up at him. She did not move away, and before he could reason himself out of the action, Michael lowered his lips to hers, uncertain, and yet wanting this very much. A kiss. That was all he told himself he wanted, except a humming of desire was building deep inside.
No, that wasn’t true. The very fiber of his being had been responding to her from the moment she’d charged into him.
Dara didn’t stop him. Her lips parted, and it was almost like here in the moonlit shade of the willow, they were away from the world.
Away from “rules.”
Her mouth melded against his, fitting exactly right. She leaned forward, her sigh soft—and was this not a sign she had yearned for this as much as he had? That he had not misread her cues?
No, he had not. For once, Miss Dara Lanscarr was not arguing with him.
Michael lifted her up on her toes, the better to taste her. She reached to wrap her arms around his neck, and the kiss deepened.
She surprised him with her passion. With theway she responded to his kiss. When his tongue touched hers, she didn’t draw back but met him, innocently, seductively copying his motions.
The world faded. In this moment, there was only the moonlight, the June breeze through the willow, and the weight of this woman in his arms.
Like Dara, Michael prided himself on his control. He was an ambitious man, which was the reason he could admire Dara’s determination.
However, right now, Hussars could have charged through the night-darkened garden and Michael would not have let her go. She felt too good.
And then he felt the heel of her hand against his shoulder. She pushed, and he released her.
Dara turned away, almost stumbling. Michael offered his hand to steady her, but she warned him back, her palm up.
His heart beat in his ears. Every inch of his body where she had touched him seemed needy, hot, and restless. The kiss wasn’t finished. Not yet.
She spoke, and the spell broke. “Elise.”
“Miss Lanscarr, I—”
“I don’t wish to see you again, Mr. Brogan,” she said, a tremble in her voice. “Don’t call. Don’t speak to any of us.” In a blink, she was through the willows, and gone.
Caught off guard, Michael felt as if he had been turned to stone.
She had rejected him.
Even after that kiss.
