She opened her mouth to say something, but he looked at her with a small twinge of his lips. “I’m getting to the duke part, darling.”
Marena’s chest filled with air at seeing a hint of that ever-present humor, and her face heated at realizing how close they were. Leaning, as she was to the side of a building, and with him right in front of her, his mouth so close to her ear—she was more than a little breathless. Still, she was eager to hear what he’d say next. “Get on with it, Linley. There is more shopping to do,” she said haughtily, eliciting a grin.
Oh, that grin, that flash of teeth promising enough mischief to scandalize and thrill her. “When I was fourteen, my father’s cousin, the Duke of Linley, died without leaving any heirs.” The grin turned flinty. “And my father finally had a reason to return to England.”
“That’s quite a story.” She felt unsteady, ready to tumble down wherever this moment would take her.
“Hm,” he grunted as he ran the back of an ungloved hand over her cheek. “Your mouth keeps stealing my focus.” He shook his head, as if he were vexed by that epiphany. “I’ve been captivated by it from the moment I saw you. Wondered how it would taste.”
There were so many things she should have said in that moment. Reminded him they were mere feet from a busy street. That this was a compromising position for her. That she would be the one to lose in this game. But all the shoulds were razed to nothing by the flames of a singular thought in Marena’s mind.
Kiss me. Kiss me.
She felt the material of her bonnet scrape against the bricks as she pushed up to where Arlo’s mouth was waiting. “There’s only one way to know, Linley.”
He didn’t give her a chance for second thoughts. He wrapped her in his arms and pressed his mouth to hers. His lips felt as soft as she imagined, lush and warm on hers, parted just enough that she could feel his heat. She opened for him and his tongue came searching for hers, the glide of it on her lips making her tremble. Her stomach dipped as if she were barreling down a steep hill and her desire spiraled further up every passing second.
“I could devour you,” he gasped, and between hungry, mind-addling kisses, Marena thought to herself, I might just let you. She brought her hands up, scraping her nails over the nape of his neck, an action which rewarded her with a lusty hiss.
He nipped at her and she returned the favor, exploring him, greedily running her hands over his wide shoulders while he cradled her face and kissed her in earnest. Then she carded her fingers through those curls she’d been wanting to touch for days.
He slid a hand to the bodice of her dress, fingers searching until he found her nipple. “I’ve almost gone mad thinking what is hidden under all this,” he said hotly as he tweaked the sensitive peak between his fingers. Even over three layers of cotton his touch singed her. “My mouth dries any time I look at you.”
“Arlo,” she gasped, trying to suck in the air that would not return to her lungs.
“I will stop now,” he said, and she almost protested, not caring they were practically in plain view. “Not because I don’t want to ravish you right here. But because when I finish the job. I’d like to have you on a bed, naked. Take my time with you.”
The mention of taking things to a bedroom finally broke through the madness of the moment. What in the world was she doing? She could not be on a bed with Arlo Kenworthy. The man was a duke, and what’s more, her best friend’s brother. Mortified, she slid away from him and tried to set herself to rights.
“I should not have let that happen.” She was panting, which significantly lessened the stern tone she was attempting, but after a long, considering look, Arlo nodded, stepping back.
“It’s a shame. I enjoyed that immensely and would very much like to do it again. For an extended period of time.” Her breath hitched under the heated look he proffered her. “I’d taste every inch of you. Feast on your body.” She should turn and walk out to the street, to the safety of the crowd on the Rue de la Paix. Instead, she stood, riveted by his sensual promises. “Hours, Marena. I’d kiss, and bite and lick you for hours. Then I’d make my way down—”
That finally propelled her to move. Learning about what he’d was too dangerously enticing. She heard his husky laugh as he followed her onto the street. “The offer is there, if you would like to avail yourself of my mouth or any other parts you may require. We have a whole day of waiting, after all. And there is only so much shopping to do.”
She ignored him, turned on her heel, and walked into Maison Maquet. Buying expensive paper would have to do for Parisian indulgences.
Chapter Six
“And what is this?” Marena asked her empty bedroom as she walked out of the bathroom, wrapped in Turkish towels. They’d arrived from their day out an hour before and had gone to get ready for dinner. Arlo had been secretive about the evening’s dining plans. And she could admit it only to herself: she was not only curious for where Arlo would take her, but craved spending more time in his company. The man was a walking, talking implausibility. He was direct, thoughtful, and funny. So unexpectedly real. She could not recall the last time she’d laughed as much as she had while walking the streets of Paris today. And what’s more, he made her feel things. From irritation to consuming lust, Arlo had brought it all up in Marena this day. It had been a long time since she’d let her emotions run wild like this. Since her return to London from Paris, really.
The arrival in London after those few months of freedom in Paris had been a rude awakening. She’d left for France a girl of twenty-four, eager to learn. What she’d found was a place where she could be more herself. She’d had trysts, felt free in a way she never had in London. She’d been happy here. And in the past five years she’d lost that. Since the first day she began managing the shop, the cutting comments about her age, her knowledge, her expertise and even how she styled her hair were an everyday occurrence. So, she’d closed herself off to all of it.
She’d poured herself into the salves and the tinctures and kept everyone else—and their effect on her—at a safe distance. Her dedication and focus had fueled her success, but it had been lonely. Now Arlo Kenworthy, in a matter of hours, had infiltrated her carefully guarded walls. Instead of heeding the danger of that development, she found she was taken with the man, and now he was sending her gifts. Bedroom gifts.
A heavy pulse beat in her chest as she approached the light blue box on her bed like it was an open flame. Her eyes narrowed as she inspected the thing. She recognized the packaging. She had a much smaller one on top of the dresser in the room. It was from the Gaillon Sisters’ shop, which was puzzling since they could not have been there more than fifteen minutes. While there Arlo purchased two dozen ladies’ handkerchiefs, which he requested be monogrammed with the letters BB. Marena had glared hotly at him as he placed the order—if he noticed her pugnacious looks, he did not say—but he did casually inform her BB was Beatrice Brooks, his grandmother. Then he launched into a story about defective pocket squares that made her grin from ear to ear.
On a whim, she purchased some gifts for her mother, while Arlo offered commentary on everything she glanced at. He liked to tease her, and she would rather cut her tongue out than admit she deeply enjoyed his ribbing. The man was infuriatingly witty, and he’d somehow devised the precise way to making her laugh and annoy her at the same time. He had something to say about gloves, mantillas and every other garment that piqued her interest, except for one. An item large enough to need a box about the size of the one on the pristine white coverlet.