Page 3 of The Ruin of Miss Amelia Burrowes

“I do not, Mr. Burke.” Well, this would teach him. She raised her foot and stamped hard on his. “Ouch.” Her soft kid slippers were no match for his leather dancing pumps. Now the arch of her foot ached.

“A veritable spitfire, aren’t you?” His grin widened. “Let’s see if all that passion can be redirected.” He darted his head down toward her, seeking her lips.

“No.” Twisting her head from side to side, she tried desperately to avoid his mouth. “Mr. Burke, please. Stop.” She got her hands up between them and gave a mighty push, but the effort had no effect on him whatsoever.

It did, however, distract her from evading his determined efforts to kiss her, and he dropped his mouth onto hers with a triumphant cry.

Amelia’s heart sank. What could she do now? Maybe if she held herself aloof, did not respond at all, he’d think her unfeeling. God knew she didn’t want his kisses, though he was remarkably gentle once he settled into it. Ceasing to struggle, she forced herself to relax, go limp in his arms, show that the kiss meant nothing to her whatsoever.

Unfortunately, that only seemed to encourage him. He pushed his tongue insistently against her stubbornly closed lips, trying to gain entry.

Oh, absolutely not. Once again, she shoved against his chest, digging her palms into his jacket and trying frantically to back away.

The click of the library door opening froze Amelia, posed, unfortunately, like a reluctant nymph being ravished by some errant god.

“Kate? Are you in here?”

The man’s voice spurred her to desperate measures. Of one thing she was certain: she couldn’t afford to be compromised by Mr. Burke. Then she’d be forced to marry him or become even more of an outcast in Society. Praying for strength, she hauled back her hand and thumped him on his ear.

He grunted and released her.

Amelia sprang backward, her hands covering her mouth, scrubbing at her lips. Turning her gaze toward the door, she looked into the startled, gray-eyed gaze of a very tall, very handsome stranger.

The man’s eyebrows had shot straight up but now returned to normal. His lips drew into a disapproving pucker. “Well, you are certainly not Kate.”