“You missed a spot.”
He reached up and brushed his fingertips through her hair along the crest of her ear. His touch startled her for an instant and she reached up to smooth her hair again. The duke caught her hand in his, and the warmth of his touch sizzled through her as he kissed the back of her hand. His kiss was so unexpected and gentle that Loretta’s settled breathing became short, shallow gasps.
He continued to hold her hand in one of his while, with the other hand, he continued lightly threading his fingers through the side of her hair. A few strands tumbled from the chignon at her nape. The gentleness of his caress was soothing. Almost mesmerizing.
His fingers slipped farther down. Slowly, he outlined its shape before circling behind her ear to lightly caress the skin there and along the column of her neck.
The heat of his gentle touch seeped inside her soul. Her body soaked it up as if it were a dry cloth being submerged in a pan of cool water.
“Have you ever been kissed, Miss Quick?” He took her hand to his lips again. “On your lips.”
His voice was husky and low, and the muted gleam in his eyes was seductive. She didn’t want to be a victim caught under the sensual spell he was casting over her, but she had no will to fight what was happening between them. Loretta knew what their exchanged glances meant. Their mutual attraction was undeniable.
She stood there, barely breathing, and allowed him to titillate her with his compelling touch, provocative words, and anticipation of something more to come.
“Yes,” she answered truthfully. “Viscount Denningcourt kissed me.”
“Often?” he asked.
“Everyone has their own perception about things, about time. I don’t know what you would consider often, Your Grace.”
“Every time he saw you.”
“No.”
“More than once?”
She hesitated again and tried to pull her hand away, but his fingers tightened around hers. He wasn’t letting go of her. His gaze remained firmly on her face, searching her eyes. His expression was so intense, her breaths became uncomfortably shallow.
“Yes,” she admitted and looked down at the fire, needing to do something to distract from the tension that was building stronger between them with every second that passed. “But I only saw him a few times before the—” She stopped and looked back up at him again.
“The wedding?”
Thealmostwedding, she thought. Inhaling deeply, she turned back to the duke and stared into his searching eyes. “The planned wedding that never took place.”
He nodded once. “I stand corrected. What did you think of the viscount’s kisses?”
Another easy answer. “Nothing,” she answered honestly.
A smile twitched the corners of the duke’s handsome lips. “What did he say about them?”
Loretta lifted her chin and recalled the words. “That he was to be my husband and kisses were necessary.”
The duke bent his head closer to hers. His gaze swept up and down her face, lingering on her lips for a few seconds before capturing her attention again. “Ah, Miss Quick, kisses shouldn’t be necessary. They should be anticipated, desired, craved even, and most of all enjoyed. Tell me,” he said, sliding his arms around her waist and catching her up against his chest. “Did he sweep you up in his arms with an urgent eagerness like this?”
She inhaled a sharp startled breath. A surprised “N-no” passed her lips. Not certain what he intended, her body stiffened in his strong embrace.
His sure hands slid up to the middle of her back and pressed her tightly against his chest, confining her with his warm, powerful body. “Did he hold you possessively like this and make you feel as if you were someone too precious to let go?”
“No,” she whispered again on a raspy breath, trying to regain her composure before she completely lost herself in the wonderment of what he was doing and saying.
“Did his lips hover longingly just above yours as mine are now, just waiting for you to invite him to take a taste of you?”
“No,” she said for the third time, but for some reason her tremulous voice made it sound more like a desperate moan.
His face came closer still, his mouth less than an inchaway from hers. His gaze was so penetrating, it was as if she were taking every breath he took. Excitement grew inside her. Her heart beat erratically and loudly in her chest, drowning out the sounds of the bits of ice hitting the windowpanes and the crackling of the fire behind them.
She wasn’t a blushing eighteen-year-old as she had been the first time the viscount held her. She knew what she should do now. Push out of his arms. Run away. Scream, or at the very least try in some way to dislodge herself from his strong embrace that held her captive.
