He stepped closer. “Have you lost your nerve?”
Goodness, he was big. She much preferred his brother, who did not exude this overweening confidence and . . . danger. She expected no assault. However, she could not ignore how she had to muster her will to keep his presence from dominating her.
“Not at all. I will admit to losing a sense of adventure, however. The man I sought to know was all subtlety and nuance, while I find his substitution rather obvious and predictable.”
Even with the mask and the dark, she saw his eyes narrow. He had not liked that.
“Thank you for trying to ensure I was not abandoned,” she said. “However, I think I will do very well without the fun you promised, and must decline the bountiful gifts you offer. My experience has been the more sumptuous the meal, the less talented the chef.”
“I think I just heard a challenge, shepherdess. I trust you know I cannot stand down.”
“Only the most arrogant man would consider my words a challenge, instead of a statement of indifference and skepticism. Now, I will take my leave of you.”
She turned toward the door, but he took her hand in his, stopping her. “I cannot allow you to leave with such a poor opinion of me. This chef insists on at least giving a taste of the savories he can create.”
With one fingertip, he slowly slid the top of her high glove down her arm. His sly touch skimmed her skin in a sinuous path.
A mesmerized reaction claimed her. No man had touched her like that in years. Not since she’d accepted the truth about Steven and left him. Her mind recoiled at the imposition, but her physical self celebrated with exhilarating thrills.
Stunned, she watched that glove go down until it bunched near her wrist. Then his head dipped. He kissed the inside flesh of her elbow.Warmth. Intimacy. It had been so long.So very long to be alone.One kiss. Two. Both warm and luring. With the third press of his lips, he found a spot that sent an intensely sensual shiver up her arm.
He kissed down toward her wrist. An explosion of excitement made her heady. She saw herself like she watched a character on a stage. The lanterns on the terrace and in the garden joined the stars as a backdrop of dancing lights.
Her other hand instinctively moved to push him away, but it halted and hovered over his head while she battled the urge to comb her fingers through his dark curls.Just a bit more. Another moment of feeling so gloriously alive.
He looked up into her eyes in a frank acknowledgment that she had done nothing to stop him. “Was that nuanced enough? Suitably subtle?”
He straightened and pulled her to him. He placed his palm on her face while his other hand continued stroking her inner palm. He held her to a kiss.
It shocked her to discover that he did indeed possess inordinate skills. Despite the sensual stupor dulling her mind, she could tell that he noticed her responses and altered the kiss accordingly in a superb display of the subtlety and nuance she had said he lacked. How else would he know just how to communicate both dominance and care at the same time? How else to tell just when she would let caution fly and succumb to the insinuation of pleasure untold? With one kiss, he won the duel he claimed that she demanded.
Then he sped her along the terrace, pulling her by the hand. She tripped along, her thoughts scrambled, trying to find herself within the excitement that had changed this night into one of audacious magic.
Despite her confusion, one clear thought emerged. If she did not lose her head entirely, she might succeed with the Duke of Langford after failing with his brother.
* * *
Astonishment. That was what he saw in her eyes. Not what he’d expected, but it charmed him. Not so bold now. Not so clever with her scathing wit. Not speaking at all, she was so breathless. She reacted as if no one had ever touched her before.
He doubted that. Still, her artlessness stirred him. Not a Cyprian, that was clear. He was glad. There was nothing challenging or novel about seducing a whore or making a courtesan your mistress.
He led her down the steps and into the garden. Her gasps of surprise reached his ears, but not any objections. He pulled her deeply into the plantings and swung her behind some shrubbery. A few lanterns danced in the breeze nearby, but their pools of light did not reach back here.
They still might be seen. He would not mind. Maybe that would wipe the knowing, sanctimonious approval off the faces of all those idiots who thought a certain duke had reformed.
“I don’t think—I did not—”
Her words never got far, she was so breathless. He found that adorable and wondered what the deuce she thought would have happened with Harry had Harry been amendable to her flirting.
He pulled her into his arms. “You fully intended to be kissed tonight. How sad if you were disappointed.”
He kissed her soundly. She did not resist. For a second, shock immobilized her, however. Then her mouth softened beneath his and she allowed it like she had on the terrace. He tasted no paint. Her lips were naturally that wine-red color.
The dress was a damned nuisance, sheathing as it did firm stays that encased her like armor. The mask severely limited his art.
He felt behind her head for the ribbons. “Let us remove this so I can—”
“No. I cannot be seen by anyone here.”
