He held her and said, “Wait.”
She turned to him and looked down at his hand on hers. For some ridiculous reason, touching her made him feel very protective of her.
“What I would really like to know is what parties you will be attending tonight. I want to meet you there so I can dance with you.”
She lifted her shoulders slightly, rested her green gaze on his eyes, and said, “I’ve received some invitations the past couple of days, but I haven’t planned to attend any of the parties or balls. I did not come to London to enjoy myself. I have only one mission in mind.”
She tried to pull her hand free of his, but he gently held her firm. He stepped closer to her. “I’m not going to go away, Susannah.”
“Why do you want me to go to a party so you can dance with me? You don’t know anything about me or my past, because you haven’t bothered to inquire.”
Race took in what she’d said. “Do you think I have no interest in you because I haven’t tried to find out about your past? Nothing could be further from the truth. I haven’t wanted to delve into your past because it’s not important to me, Susannah. And how can I get to know more about you if I can’t persuade you to spend a little time with me?” Race brought her hand up to his lips and kissed the back of her palm.
She sighed as he allowed her to pull her hand free of his. “You are a difficult man, my lord.”
“And contrary to the way I behave most of the time, I stand by my statement that I am a patient man.” He gave her a teasing smile. “So, now can I sit for a while and listen to you play?”
“Mrs. Princeton isn’t here right now, but Cook, the housekeeper, and my maid are here, so I suppose it is acceptable for you to come inside.” She headed for the door. “May I offer you some tea?”
“Just music.” He smiled at her again and wondered if she knew that right now he wanted to pick her up in his arms, take her upstairs to her room, lay her on her bed, and make slow, sweet love to her.
Susannah had had very few opportunities to play the pianoforte for anyone other than her mother and any staff who might happen to hear her practice, but she wasn’t in the least nervous about playing for the marquis. She knew she was very good.
“Sit where you like,” she said.
She watched him sit down in the middle of the settee and prop one of his booted feet on the opposite leg. He was divinely handsome in his crisp white shirt, red waistcoat, and black jacket littered with tiny bits of shrub. She enjoyed simply looking at him.
Susannah needed no written music, and that was good because she didn’t have any with her. But what should she play for him? Should she ask if he had a favorite? No, what if he asked for a song she didn’t know how to play? That might prove embarrassing.
Her fingers splayed onto the ivories, and she felt Race’s hot gaze on her face. Suddenly, she started playing the sprightly melody of Bach’s “Invention.”
About halfway through the piece, she glanced up at Race. He was watching her with admiration and desire in his eyes. It pleased her to know her talent gave him enjoyment.
She looked back down at the ivories, but what she wanted to look at was Race’s seductive eyes. She wanted to tell him she was charmed and flattered that he had come over, that he wanted to hear her play, that he was pursuing her.
He must know how difficult it was for her to resist him. His smile, his manner, and even his roguish reputation captivated her, intrigued her, and seduced her.
She took in a deep, languid breath as she finished Bach’s score and went immediately into a Beethoven Sonata. As she played, she kept thinking about Race. What was she going to do about him? If she accepted invitations and attended the exclusive parties in London, would she be opening herself up to the kind of shame and ridicule she experienced before she married the Duke of Blooming? Did Society ever truly forget about indiscretions, she wondered? Would being with the charming marquis be worth the risk of heartache again? She didn’t know the answer to any of those questions.
When the music was over, she rose, moved from behind the pianoforte, and curtseyed.
Race rose and clapped. “Bravo, Duchess, bravo.” He took both her hands firmly, warmly in his, kissing first one and then the other. “These hands are magical when you’re playing.”
She smiled and laughed lightly. “You are such a flatterer.”
With the backs of his fingers, he skimmed down her cheek and brushed aside a wispy strand of hair. “I have been, but not this time. I’m telling the truth. Thank you for playing for me. I had a hell of a—pardon me, I had a trying day, and listening to you play soothes me.”
“I’m glad.”
Bending his head, he gently brushed his lips across hers. The kiss was so gentle and brief that if she tried, she could probably convince herself it never happened. Yet her heart rate told a different story. It was beating out of control.
She gazed into his eyes, her heart hoping he’d kiss her again because she knew she wouldn’t resist him.
He gently tugged on her hands, and she went willingly into his strong, waiting arms. They tightened around her and snuggled her against his chest. He lowered his head again, and instinctively her lips parted, her mouth opened, and his tongue slipped inside with a warm, slow, easy thrust. The kiss was long, generous, and eager. Short, choppy breaths mingled with long, whispery sighs.
He lifted his head barely an inch from hers and said, “I’ve wanted to kiss you like this since I first saw you standing so poised and so proper in my house, telling me I could charm a nun out of her chemise.”
Susannah laughed. “You know I never said such an outrageous thing.”
