Then she laughed, releasing the tight tension inside her body. The earl chuckled too, as if he understood the delight coursing through her veins at having done something so simple yet so naughty and fun. For a wild moment, she hadn’t been an observer but a participant. Dancing was simply perfectly splendid.
“Your laugh, it is lovely.”
And unexpectedly that made Poppy laugh a little bit more before she said warmly, “I believe I can get used to flattery.”
“Ah, that was not a stroke to your vanity. It is a simple truth.”
Poppy made no reply but dipped her head in an elegant acknowledgment of the compliment. “And how was that dancing?” he asked huskily. “You moved beautifully.”
She shook her head wordlessly, still feeling the sensation of his hand on her body.
“I am the Earl of Kingsley. Should I dance with you tonight, you will be the name on everyone’s lips tomorrow. Society is fickle, but we can rely on that fickleness for your success. My noticing you will also make other gentlemen interested in you. For the remainder of the season, you will have the influence and connections of my family behind you.”
A fierce swell of emotions tore through Poppy, and with great impetuosity, she stepped forward, tipped onto her toes, and pressed a kiss along his jaw. He faltered into profound stillness, and with a soft sigh, she stepped back, but not before she inhaled his masculine scent of sandalwood and oak moss deep into her lungs, as if she would make it a part of her. “Thank you, James. Somehow I shall repay your kindness.”
“I will be deserving of your slap, withhold it.”
Poppy frowned. “James, what do you mean by—”
His head swooped down, and he took her mouth with his. Poppy almost fainted from the shock of feeling warm sensual lips pressed to her. His tongue stroked against her lower lip. Oh, God! A terribly weak-kneed feeling assailed Poppy. He did it again, and with a small whimper, she parted her lips. He kissed her deeper, startling her by cupping her cheeks in his hands and sliding his tongue against her. Pleasure rushed through Poppy’s veins in a fiery burn, and with a ragged cry against his mouth, she sagged into his embrace, gripping the lapels of his evening jacket in a fierce clasp, awkwardly returning his ravishing kiss.
Chapter 4
James was lost in Miss Poppy Ashford’s taste and the wanton moans of startled pleasure she made, as if with each kiss he pressed against her sensual mouth, she discovered something wonderful and exciting. Stop. Bloody hell, stop! He cursed himself silently.
He could not stop. Unexpected yearning made him dizzy and greedy. He was painfully, shockingly aroused and should her eyes lower, the proof of it would be evident, and surely her sensibilities would be mortified. James tasted the innocence in her mouth—sweet, carnal innocence that he had wanted to take and corrupt with raw passion. He’d never kissed a lady with such a desperate, burning hunger before, and it was that knowledge that allowed him the strength to lower his hands and pull away from her.
James raked a hand through his hair. “Miss Ashford…” What the hell could he say?
“Yes?” she replied huskily, staring at him with bold curiosity. Her beautiful silver eyes were bright with desire, her lips wet and a bit swollen, her cheeks flushed a most becoming pink. The soft glow of the moonlight and a lone lantern in the distance highlighted the full curves of her young body. Quickly, he did his best not to linger on how delectable and mouth-wateringly sensual she appeared in the icy blue gown which clung to her curves like the possessive caress of a lover.
Meeting her eyes once more, James felt something pierce his heart. Poppy didn’t stare at him like she wanted to slap him for his unchecked audacity or administer a well-deserved set down. No…she looked like she wanted to kiss him again. Surprisingly, she laughed, a sweet soft sound, almost one of delight.
He had to offer an explanation. But how could he tell her that for almost two years, his dream of kissing her had haunted him, the feel of her lips just now on his jaw broke his restraint? It would sound just like a damn excuse to act the scoundrel when he knew he could not marry her. “Miss Ashford…Poppy…I—”
Bloody hell.
She kissed him, swallowing his muffled sound of surprise, swallowing his groan that echoed his terrible desire. This time she cupped his jaw in her soft, delicate hands, and though the gloves separated her skin from his, he swore he felt the heat of her palms. Before he could sink deeper into her kiss, with a moan, she pulled away.
“Well,” she said a bit breathlessly. “That was most diverting.”
“Was it?”
“Yes, as first kisses went, it was wonderful and instructional.”
Shock jolted through him. Her first kiss? A sudden rush of fierce satisfaction filled him. Should he confess that she was his first kiss in almost four years?
“Are we to indulge in lessons like these in my endeavor to secure a match?” she asked with admirable steadiness.
Amusement at her unexpected boldness rushed through him, but it was not enough to dampen the lust the little imp had caused. James tugged at his cravat, which suddenly felt too tight and cumbersome. “Kissing lessons are not necessary.”
“I have heard my sister say that a beau must be allowed to steal kisses. How else can a lady know if she finds a gentleman desirable? Even my closest friend in the country, Miss Charlotte, has kissed a suitor or two.”
He narrowed his gaze at her.
Poppy’s eyes widened. “You seem as if you want to throttle me. Is it the idea of me kissing someone else?”
Another jolt of shock hit James, and he took a step back from her. Bloody hell. “Are you always this…blunt?”
She canted her head. “No. However, I am…comfortable with you. It is surprising to me as well.”
Something warm tumbled over inside him.
Her smile softened, and amusement shifted in her eyes. “And you are also avoiding the question.”
“Of course not,” he said casually, tugging at the cravat again. “Kissing when done discreetly is a part of courtship. But not kissing like we just did. That is not for courtship.”
“As I said, that was my very first kiss,” she said, her lovely eyes glittering with the remnants of curiosity and want. “I never knew there were degrees of kissing. How fascinating.”
“There are.” This was a flat, tight reply which discouraged further conversation along this direction.
“So I must not kiss another how we just kissed. Is that what you are saying?”
“Yes,” he said quite emphatically.
“What does a kissing like that signal if not courtship?”
“Must you know?”
Her eyes lit up with provocative humor. Did the chit already know the answer and teased him?
A grin tugged at her mouth. “Yes, my lord, I must know. How else must I determine if I am to be on guard or a willing participant? Is there a manual or book of sorts with these instructions?”
Something primal pulsed inside of him, and it was the devil-may-care attitude of his youth that urged him to step closer to her and said, “Such a kiss…it is for…seduction…and ravishment. It is a kiss that communicates lust and hunger.”
James wasn’t sure what reaction he expected to that admission, but it was not the quiet way she contemplated him with that lush secret smile about her mouth.