She didn’t look back to see if he followed her. He would. They always did.
Such pretty lips he had—full, with just the slightest hint of a pout, almost like a woman’s, though there wasn’t anything else the least bit feminine about him. It wasn’t his lips that decided her, though. She did want to taste them, but his honesty was more seductive even than his handsome face. So sudden and unexpected. More than one gentleman had tried to tempt her into an indiscretion, but she couldn’t recall any who’d admitted to it before. How refreshing, not to be treated as if she were a complete fool.
Of course, the pretty lips didn’t hurt.
A few kisses, nothing more, then she’d send him on his way and return to the ballroom before the next dance began. Eleanor wouldn’t have to know. She wouldn’t be gone long enough to be missed.
Charlotte skirted around the edge of a tree at the far end of the garden. The light from the terrace didn’t reach this far, and the low-lying branches would shield them from any curious eyes that might chance to glance their way.
She felt more than heard him come up behind her. “Just as I thought. It’s you who have lured me.”
She gave him her profile, but didn’t turn around. “Lure is such a wicked word. Are you here against your will, Mr. West?”
He gave a soft, amused laugh. “Oh, no. Quite the contrary, as I think you know.”
His lips were right at her ear—she felt his breath stir the tendrils of hair at her temple, felt the heat of his body against her back. He’d take her shoulders in his hands now, turn her to face him, and kiss her.
Charlotte waited, trembling, but he didn’t touch her. She could hear him behind her, his breath working in and out of his chest, ragged. He was close, so close, his lips nearly touching her neck, and yet he hesitated for so long every inch of her body drew taut, waiting for his touch. Longing for it. She imagined she felt it every moment, and yet it didn’t come. He simply stood behind her, a starving man with a feast spread before him, unsure where to begin, but savoring the moment before the first taste touches his lips.
Charlotte moaned aloud when it came at last, so light, his fingers in the loose waves of hair at her nape, brushing them aside to clear a path for his lips, open and soft against the tender skin of her neck.
Dear God.Her eyes slid closed.
“Never tasted anything so sweet.” His whisper was hoarse, stunned.
He fumbled with the buttons at the back of her gown, his fingers shaking as he slipped them loose, one by one, then spread the silk open to bare her shoulders. He teased his hot, wet mouth over her flesh, and Charlotte caught her lower lip between her teeth to keep from whimpering.
Just a few more innocent kisses. That was all, and then she’d return to the ballroom, find Eleanor . . .
He spread the fabric wider to nip at her shoulder blades, then knelt to touch his tongue to the arch of her back before trailing the damp heat of his mouth up her spine until he stood upright behind her again. “Lean back against me.Yes. Like that.” He wrapped his other arm around her waist and splayed a hand low across her belly.
She hadn’t known it could feel this way, hadn’t realized—
“It’s all right, sweetheart.” His mouth brushed her ear. “Wrap your arms around me.”
No. No, she couldn’t let herself touch him . . .
But her arms rose, and her fingers slid into the soft waves of hair at the back of his neck. He pressed his mouth to the inside of her arm, and a soft puff of warm breath touched her damp skin. A ragged groan rose from his chest at her touch, and she felt it everywhere, deep in the darkest recesses of her body.
His mouth found her neck, and she felt his lips curl upward against her skin.
He’s smiling.
Charlotte let her head fall back against his shoulder, and knew she was lost.
Chapter Two
Blast it. Dash it. Confound it, and d—
Eleanor caught herself before any truly wicked curses could escape. There was no need to be unladylike, even if it was only in her head.
No needyet.
Charlotte couldn’t have gotten far. Eleanor had seen her just there not even a minute ago, on the other side of the ballroom. She made her way toward the terrace doors, doing her best not to look hurried or anxious, but before long her feet fell into the same frantic rhythm as her heart. A few ladies called out greetings as she flew past, a few gentleman bowed, but Eleanor merely nodded at them.
She came to a breathless halt on the other side of the ballroom.
Blast it. Dash it. Confound it.She may as well have saved herself the effort. Charlotte had disappeared, and it didn’t take a fortune-teller to see the only place she could have gone was into the dark garden beyond the terrace.
