“YourGrace,” Lillian murmured. “How…interesting.”
“What is?” he said guardedly.
“Just that you’ve chosen to attend a ball, yet you dislike large quantities of people and dancing. The two things that make a ball…well, a ball. Did you request your driver bring you somewhere else and he came here instead?”
“No. My attendance tonight is a duty to be fulfilled.”
“And here I thought dukes could do whatever they wanted.”
“How many dukes have you met?”
“You’re the first.” She finally turned away from the balcony, affording him a clear view of her countenance. Abel’s breath lodged in his throat. If her features had been remarkable in profile, the front façade was nothing short of exquisite.
Dominated by catlike garnet eyes flecked with dashes of gold, her face was a work of art. And while it was said beauty was in the eye of the beholder, it took all of his self-control not to holdher. Not to yank her against his chest, drag his fingers through her hair, and plunder her mouth until her legs gave out.
The shock of his reaction to her appearance–the sheer strength of it–made his jaw clench and his abdominal muscles tighten. Obviously, he’d gone too long without a woman. It was the only explanation that made sense. His response was exaggerated due to five years of self-imposed celibacy. It had nothing to do with Lillian in particular. Never mind that he had received female callers over the past few months and none of them, not a single one, had made his cock harden or his blood burn.
It was this night.
This ball.
He shouldn’t have come…and now he didn’t want to leave.
Not without knowing what she tasted like first.
Raking a hand through his hair, he forced himself to look past her at the empty terrace as snowflakes began to fall intermittently from the dark, cloudy sky. “You should go back inside. I’m sure the ballroom will be opening soon. You don’t want to miss it.”
“I wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight, you know.”
Abel couldn’t help himself. His gaze flashed to hers. A half smile flirted with the corner of her mouth, but her eyes–large, gorgeous gemstones framed with thick black lashes–remained solemn.
“Did you have other plans?” he asked.
“I didn’t have any plans. I wasn’t given an invitation.” Lifting the long sleeve of his coat, she spun it in a lazy circle. “I won one in a game of hazard.”
“Are you gambler, then?” he said, mostly in jest.
“Almost as bad.” She gave the sleeve another spin, then let it drop. “I’m an actress.”
Abel barked out a laugh. Lillian Snow, an actress? A bored debutante more like, seeking a bit of drama. Except she didn’t appear as if she were teasing. She looked…serious. Maybe even a little sad. Brows gathering above the bridge of his nose, he braced an arm on the edge of the railing as the snow began to fall in earnest. “I cannot recall the last play I saw.”
Lillian frowned. “You don’t enjoy the theater?”
“No, that’s not what I–”
“Do you also have an aversion to rainbows, puppies, and rays of sunshine?”
“I never said–”
“Crowds, dancing, and now the arts.” A loose curl tumbledfrom her coiffure when she tilted her head to the side. “Is there anything youdoenjoy, Your Grace?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. Reaching out, he brushed a snowflake off the high arch of her cheekbone. Turning his hand inward, he cupped her cheek, the pad of his thumb cradling the small, stubborn point of her chin. “Quiet,” he growled. “I like it when people arequiet.”
So he kissed her. It wasn’t planned, yet how else was he supposed to keep her from interrupting him? Her lips were cold under his, but they quickly warmed when his tongue swept along the delicate seam before sliding inside to sample the sweet nectar of her hot, wet mouth. He’d wondered what she would taste like and now he had his answer.
Peppermint.
She tasted of fresh peppermint and secrets cloaked in velvet.
