Probably? Nothing about the game had been proper.
Genie regretted not participating.
Only because the moment Lord Satterfield’s lips had touched Mrs. Makepeace’s, Genie had wanted to scratch the other woman’s eyes out. Then she wanted to push her to the floor and take her place.
Her reaction had been swift, violent, and wholly unsettling. She asked herself again, what was happening to her?
After stalking to the library, Genie found a book to read and took it to a small sitting room tucked into the corner of the ground floor far from the billiards and drawing rooms. She considered going up to her chamber, but Mrs. Sheldon’s room was next to hers, and Genie didn’t want to hear if she was having a rendezvous with Lord Audlington.
The sitting room was cozy, with a view of the damp grounds littered with red and gold leaves being tossed about by the wind. The rain had stopped—at least for now—and a few beams of sunlight streaked through the gray clouds.
She situated herself on a chaise, stretching her legs out on the cushion and crossing her ankles. Opening the book, she proceeded to stare at the first page and not read. She couldn’t stop thinking of Satterfield. Of his sensual lips, his piercing gaze, his muscular arms… Were they in fact muscular? She longed to find out for herself.
Mrs. Makepeace would know how his lips had felt. Watching him kiss her had stirred emotions Genie hadn’t felt in some time, or maybe ever.
Oh bother! Unlike everyone else at this party, she did not come here to find a husband, nor did she come to have an assignation. She certainly didn’t want to pursue either of those things with Lord Satterfield. She wasn’t ready.
Tell that to your body.
Satterfield was obviously angling for a liaison, at least. He’d been all too eager to participate in the stupid kissing game and to kiss Mrs. Makepeace on the mouth. He could just as easily have kissed her cheek. Better still, her hand.
Scowling, Genie tried to focus on the page in her lap.
“Good book?”
She snapped the cover closed and leapt to her feet. It was him.
“Did you follow me?”
He sauntered into the sitting room, making the room feel even smaller than it had a few minutes before. “No.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“Looking for a moment’s peace,” he said amenably.
“Well, you shan’t find it here.”
He arched a brow. “Is that right?”
She hadn’t meant that to sound argumentative, but now that she’d all but implied it, she squared her shoulders and didn’t refute him.
“Should I go?” he asked.
Yes. No. “We can share the room, certainly.”
He took another step toward her, leaving just a few feet between them. “You seem angry.”
“I’m not.” Except her face felt hot, and her body was aquiver. Why was she cross with him?
One more step brought him even closer. And provoked the sensations in her body to a more feverish pitch. “Why didn’t you play blind man’s buff?”
“I—” She didn’t really have a good answer. “I didn’t want to kiss anyone.” That wasn’t precisely true. She didn’t want to kiss anyone but him. Oh God, she wanted to kiss him?
He took the final step that put him directly in front of her. She could lift her hands and determine the size of his biceps for herself.
“That’s a pity,” he said softly. “I was devastated when you sat out.”
Devastated? Genie’s lips parted as she fought to draw enough breath to support her racing pulse.
“And then you sat down with Sterling, and I’m afraid I was rather jealous. That provoked me to behave in a childish manner. Is it too much for me to hope you were jealous too?”
No, because she was. “I told you I wasn’t angry.”
His eyes widened, and his nostrils flared slightly. Reveling in catching him off guard, Genie felt emboldened. Standing on her toes, she brought her hand up and curled it around his neck, drawing his head down. Then she touched her lips to his.
With a soft groan, he wrapped his arms around her. She dropped the book to the floor and put her other hand on his bicep. Squeezing, she satisfied her curiosity as best as she could given the layers of his clothing. Oh yes, he was quite well formed.
And his lips were divine. She’d almost forgotten how delightful a simple kiss could be, the way her body quickened and the flames of arousal began to flicker.
He clasped her back and brought her flush against him. Angling his head, he licked his tongue along her lips. Genie opened for him, inviting his entry, sliding her tongue along his in a merry chase.
Wild sensation careened through her. This seemed at once forbidden and desperately necessary. She shouldn’t want this. She couldn’t want this…not yet?
She pulled her mouth from his and lowered her feet. Her breath came hard and fast. “I—it’s too soon.”
“Is it?” He didn’t let her go. “Why?”
“Because…” She had no answer. Again, she heard Jerome’s voice telling her to be happy. He would want her to do this. Still, she was conflicted. “It feels strange.”
He took his hands from her. “I’m sorry to hear that. I think it feels rather wonderful.”
She saw the flash of disappointment in his gaze, the struggle within him not to show her his hurt. “It’s not you,” she rushed to say. “I’m…drawn to you. I was jealous of you kissing Mrs. Makepeace.”
“Would it help to know I was thinking of kissing you?”
“Yes.” She ought to have been ashamed to admit it, but she was smiling instead.
He took her hand. “Duchess.” He looked her in the eye. “Eugenia.”
She ran her thumb along his hand. “Genie.”
“Genie.” He said her name like a vocal caress, evoking a shiver along her shoulders. “I will go as slowly as you like. I am not interested in Mrs. Makepeace or anyone else.”
Joy sparked inside her. She glanced down at their joined hands. Then she looked back up at him and put her palm against his cheek. “I didn’t come here to make a match. Or to have a liaison.”
“I did. To perhaps make a match,” he clarified. “It’s probably time I take a wife, or so my mother has been telling me for the past decade.” He cracked a smile.
“I don’t know if I’m ready for that.” She ran her thumb along his supple lower lip. “I am, however, ready for another kiss. Are you?”
“More than.”
She rose on her toes again as he swept her against him. His mouth crashed against hers. She plunged her fingers into his hair, cupping his head as she held on to him fiercely. His hands moved across her upper back and then lower, one of them clutching her backside.
She pressed into him, her sex pulsing with need. Perhaps a liaison would be welcome…
By the time they separated, they were both breathing hard. He rested his forehead against hers. “I didn’t close the door.”
“Oh.” She should be scandalized, but she couldn’t muster even a modicum of horror or regret. She clutched his lapels and brushed her lips against his once more. “I’m going upstairs to get ready for dinner. Please don’t follow me. This is…lovely. It’s also more than I anticipated.”