Page 47

“Like this?” He pulled her more tightly against his stiff cock and nipped her neck.

A shiver went through her. “Yes,” she said breathlessly, pulling away. “Then he passes out.”

“What?”

“It’s true! I’ve seen it several times. He falls unconscious and topples to the side.”

“Bloody hell,” Dominic muttered, feeling sorry for males of the Lepus genus. Poor blokes.

“I have wondered if that was true of men, but I haven’t had a chance to clarify it, for obvious reasons.”

“Not in my case,” Dominic said. “Perhaps I can give you so much pleasure that you pass out. We’ll have to test the hypothesis that men and women are like rabbits. Scientifically, by repeating the test many times. Of course, we may end up with fifteen children, like Queen Charlotte.”

“As do rabbits!” Torie said, gurgling with laughter.

Dimly, amid one of the most scorching kisses of his life, Dominic realized that he didn’t give a damn about theatrical criticism or parliamentary debates. Or anything other than her, the woman standing before him smelling like honeysuckle, her fingers leaving an impression like hot coals on his chest.

They should have a short betrothal.

Very short.

“Is Sir William joining us?” he asked.

“He is supposed to chaperone us,” Torie said, catching her breath. “Which brings me to an important point, Dom. There will be no preempting the wedding night.” She fixed him with an uncompromising gaze.

“Of course,” he said readily. “I suggest we marry by special license.” He could buy one in the morning; they could marry in the afternoon.

She shook her head. “Absolutely not. If we intend to . . . to give the polite world the impression that we are happy to marry—”

“Because we are,” he growled, snatching her into a kiss.

Later, Torie said breathlessly, “We can’t marry by special license.”

Dominic tried to look inquiring rather than aggravated. The marriage date was a lady’s purview, which had proved problematic during his first engagement, although in retrospect, Leonora’s hesitation had been for the best.

“Don’t scowl at me like one of those tigers in the Royal Menagerie!”

Apparently he hadn’t achieved placid inquiry. “I’d like to marry you tomorrow,” Dominic said, somewhat surprised by the desperation in his voice.

“I thought about it most of the night,” Torie told him. “If our marriage is to be accepted as an affair of the heart—as per your idea—then our betrothal must be conventional and include the reading of banns.”

Affair of the heart?

Dominic flinched. He was going to disappoint her.

“Don’t be so silly,” Torie said, rolling her eyes. “I’m not in love with you. I’m merely asking you to perform not Tartuffe but Romeo and Juliet. Supposedly the greatest love story ever written. We can pretend to be lovesick fools, because we can scarcely tell society the truth, can we?”

“That I want to smoke your chimney and ring your chimes?” He grinned because, damn it, he did have a sense of humor, albeit of a particular sort.

She raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll explain at a later date,” Dominic said, deciding the drawing room wasn’t the place to inquire about her orgasmic experiences, if any.

“If we wish to convey the idea that you are overlooking my deficits due to infatuation, we have to kiss in front of a great many people.”

“You have no deficits,” Dominic said instinctively.

She didn’t roll her eyes, but the feeling hung in the air.