Page 40 of His Wicked Charm

“I did.”

“Then I wonder why you’re complaining.”

“I’m not—”

“And it’s a lie to say I haven’t spent time with you. We spent half a day together chasing down the kidnappers.”

“Because I forced my way in. It’s not as if you wanted me along. You made that quite clear.”

“What about asking you to search Sabrina’s house? What about now—I’m heading off to bloody Somerset with you.”

“Yes, when you need something from me.”

“I am not using you,” Con shot back, taut as a bowstring, fury coursing in him. “I could easily have gone to Carmoor and searched it myself. I don’t need you to accompany me. In fact, everything would be a damn sight easier if you weren’t here. You’re bloody infuriating, and I was a fool to ask you.”

“Then why did you?” Her eyes shimmered, and there was a look on her face that made him ache.

“Because I was idiotic enough to want you with me.”

Lilah drew in her breath.

He was being stupid. Utterly stupid. Con knew it and yet he couldn’t help himself. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

Lilah stiffened, then melted into him, her mouth opening to receive him. Her arms slid beneath his jacket, and he shuddered, swept with lust. The scent of her, the feel of her, the taste of her filled his head. There was no thought in him, only heat and yearning, only pulsing need. He could not stop kissing her longer than to change the angle of his mouth.

Con had no awareness of moving, but suddenly they were up against the door, his body pressing into hers. His hand came up, fingers thrusting into her hair. He heard the ping of hairpins hitting the floor. It wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. He kissed her mouth and cheek, caught the fleshy lobe of her ear in a tiny nip, and her startled gasp that turned into a moan almost undid him. He envisioned sliding down to the floor with her, but some faint remnant of sanity stopped him. Instead, he began to kiss his way down the column of her throat.

The sensitive skin was so soft, so smooth, so warm. He felt the tiny beat of her pulse against his lips. His other hand slid up to cup the soft swell of her breast. He would have given anything to be someplace else with her, somewhere he could follow the course of his yearning to the heart of it. He knew he must stop, must pull back.

In a moment, just one moment.

The train whistle blasted through the air. Con froze. It came again, cutting through the haze in his brain. He pulled himself away, turning to the window and running a shaky hand through his hair. He tugged at his waistcoat, his cuffs. He could see Lilah’s reflection in the window. She was frantically repinning the strands of hair his fingers had loosened. He flexed his hands, itching to sink them into her hair again.

Con took a deep breath, trying to force calm though him. Half turning, he glanced over at Lilah. She looked flustered and breathless. It made him want her even more. He had no idea what he should say. What he should do. He was utterly at sea.

A sharp rap sounded on the door and an instant later, Cuddington entered the room, looking stern and suspicious. It was, he thought, going to be an infernally long trip.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THE TRIP TO Somerset was every bit as terrible as Lilah had imagined it would be. Worse. She had envisioned a stilted and dull conversation with Cuddington present. She had not bargained for the wealth of sensations roiling around in her, seeking escape.

Con was no help. He took up a seat by the window and brooded. It was not a look she’d seen on Con before...and one she hoped never to see again. It was strangely disturbing to see his mobile face turn dark and stony. This wasn’t the Constantine Moreland she knew, the one she... Yes, very well, she was forced to admit it: the Con Moreland she liked.

Despite all she’d said, the truth was that she enjoyed being with him. Whenever Con entered the room, it became more lively, more fun. Everything was more uncertain around him; one never knew what he might do or say. It was, of course, unnerving and not the way a gentleman should behave. But it was also exciting. Con carried the possibility of adventure with him.

It was wrong of her. She should not be drawn to someone who alarmed her. He was the opposite of the man she’d dreamed of—no rock-solid anchor, but fireworks that burst beautifully in the air and were gone.

But there no escaping it. She wanted Con. She wanted that face, those hands that he used to punctuate his words, that long, lean body that fitted so perfectly against hers. She desired him the way she imagined an opium eater must desire the drug, knowing it was wrong and impermanent but oh-so-pleasurable.

She sneaked a sideways glance at him. What was it about Con that stirred her so? The glint in his eyes? The way his mouth quirked up as he awaited her response to his teasing?

Her cheeks burned as she thought about his kisses a few minutes earlier and the way her body had flamed into response. The way he’d touched her had been shocking, his hand roaming over her, covering her breast, but it had aroused her even more than it astonished her. Just the memory of it made her nerves dance. Con had the ability to turn her into a different person.

Look at the way she’d jumped at the chance to leave the house with him the other day. And little as she wanted Con at Barrow House, the thought of going there with him had thrilled her. It was, she knew, the main reason her aunt’s insistence that she bring Cuddington had chafed so. Her own maid, Poppy, would have readily agreed to taking a seat in the other car by herself.

What was she to do the rest of the visit? They would be thrown together, but she had ruined that. After the things she’d said to him, Con wouldn’t want her to accompany him when he broke into Carmoor. And wasn’t regretting the opportunity to commit a crime proof of just how much Con turned her into a different person!

She wished she hadn’t said what she had. He was inconstant, always moving from one thing to another; he believed in all that otherworldly nonsense. His teasing made her yearn to slap him sometimes. But maybe she and her aunt were wrong about him being part of Hetherton’s set. She’d seen him talking and laughing with them at parties; she’d heard of some of the ridiculous practical jokes they’d played. But she hadn’t seen any sign of their wildest sorts of behavior in Con, and it had been some time since she’d heard of him engaging in one of their stunts.