Page 39 of The Marriage Wager

But none of that compared to the reality. Her heart thundered; her every sense was overwhelmed. His mouth sank into hers, his lips seeking, taking, giving such pleasure that she was almost drowning in it. The fury in his kiss drained away until there was only hunger and a passion so intense that it seemed to fill up every fiber of her being.

His arms loosened around her, and his hands slid down her body, slowly gliding over her back and onto her sides, his thumbs brushing against the sides of her breasts as his hands moved down to her waist and over her hips. His fingers were spread wide, encompassing as much of her body as he could, and his skin was hot, searing through the muslin of her dress. He rounded his hands over the curve of her buttocks, caressing and squeezing, as he continued to kiss her. His fingers dug into her soft flesh, pushing her up and into him, so that she felt the hard length of his desire pressing into her abdomen.

Her flesh quivered, her loins turned pulsing and warm, and she yearned to press herself even more tightly against him until they melded together. An ache grew between her legs. She was not certain what she wanted, but she knew that she wanted it very much.

He pulled his mouth away, murmuring her name in a low, shaken whisper. He kissed her face and throat, his lips and teeth and tongue teasing and nibbling at her sensitive flesh as he made his way down the column of her neck. Constance let her head loll back, mutely offering up her throat to his mouth.

His hands slipped back up her body and cupped her breasts. She shuddered. Her breasts had ached for his touch, and now, as his fingers gently cradled the soft orbs, she was filled with a satisfaction that was equaled by an ever-growing hunger for more.

Dominic growled low in his throat, and his mouth came swiftly up to claim hers again. His long fingers gently squeezed her breasts as his thumbs brushed across her nipples, exciting them into hard points. His tongue teased her even as his fingers played with her nipples, arousing her almost unbearably.

She moved restlessly, yearning for more but not knowing what to do. Her hands moved instinctively, sliding up his chest and around to the back of his neck, shoving up into his hair. His hair slid like satin through her fingers, caressing her skin as she caressed him. Constance felt as if she were sliding down into some fiery pit of hunger, helpless, yet longing for her own immolation.

There was the sound of high-pitched laughter and the murmur of feminine voices. Dominic stiffened, then quickly straightened and cast a look around him. Taking Constance’s arm, he pulled her off the path and across the grass, then whisked her around a high hedge and into the shelter of a vine-covered arbor.

Deep in its shadow, they waited, every sense alert, as the sound of the voices drew nearer. Constance was standing only inches from him, her eyes level with his broad shoulders. She could feel the heat of his body, smell his scent, her skin so alive and sensitive that she could feel the very touch of the air on her flesh. His hands were on her upper arms, holding her in place, hot and heavy on her skin.

Constance looked up at him. His head was turned as he peered back through the vines and leaves toward the path where they had stood earlier. She realized how exposed they had been, how easily they could have been seen if anyone had happened to stroll by. She knew the damage that would have been done if they had been discovered in that compromising position; her reputation would have been ruined.

But even knowing that, it was not the chill of fear that permeated her body down to its bones; it was the glow of passion that his kisses and caresses had awakened in her. Her body still hummed with pleasure, still throbbed with desire. He could have had his way with her just then, she thought, and she would have done nothing to stop him. Indeed, she was sure that she would have urged him on.

The thought filled her with anger, more at herself than at him. How could she be so weak? So ruled by her passions instead of her head? It was little wonder that he felt free to treat her like a doxy when she was so ready to act like one!

The Norton sisters and Lord Dunborough appeared finally, walking along a path a few feet from where Constance and Dominic had been standing. The three guests did not look around them, never even glancing across the grass and through the trees to the vine-clad bower where Constance and Lord Leighton were concealed.

Dominic watched the others until they disappeared into the rose garden. He relaxed, his hands loosening on Constance’s shoulders. She wrenched away from him and started out of the arbor, but he reached out and grasped her wrist.

“No, wait!”

“Let me go!” she spat, whirling around to glare at him. “Or do you intend to force me right here in your mother’s garden?”

His mouth tightened, the skin around it turning whiter, and a light flared briefly in his eyes. “Of course not,” he said tersely.

“Then let me go.” She cast a pointed look at his hand wrapped tightly around her wrist.

He released her, holding his hands up and to the side a little as though to show his intention not to touch her again. “I apologize for my rash behavior. I was angry and I—’tis no excuse. I should not have seized you or…” His eyes darkened at the memory, and his gaze flickered for an instant to Constance’s mouth.

She thought of what he must see, her lips swollen and soft from his kisses, dark with the blood called by her passion. She flushed and turned away.

“Wait, please,” he said urgently, his voice lower and softer now. “Will you not at least give me a chance to speak on my own behalf? Are you so unfair as to condemn me without giving me an opportunity to defend myself?”

“How dare you?” Constance blazed, swinging back to face him, her eyes bright with anger. “How can you act as though I am the one who has done something wrong? You are the one who is manhandling a woman, holding her here against her will!”

“I am not holding you now. Please. I am sorry for acting boorishly. I ask only that you listen to me.”

Constance gazed at him for a long moment, aware of how very much she wanted to hear his explanation, how much she wanted him to explain away what she had heard, yet knowing that it was probably foolhardy to do so. It was clear that she could not trust herself around the man.

She crossed her arms across her chest. “All right. I will listen to you.”

“Thank you.”

He led her deeper into the garden, bringing her after a few minutes to a wooden bench that lay deep beneath the shade of a spreading willow tree. They were all but hidden from sight and far enough from any path that no one was likely to wander past. She and Dominic turned to face each other, standing several feet apart.

“Now, tell me,” Dominic said. “What did you hear? Why do you think I am engaged?”

“Lady Rutherford herself told me,” she replied. “She said that you are engaged to her daughter Muriel.”

His eyebrows soared upward. “Did she now?” He looked away meditatively. “She must be very sure of herself. Or very desperate.”