She bit her bottom lip. “How would I even know if a man is interested in me or my dowry?”
His body was tightly coiled and tense. “A man will look at you a certain way. Kiss you like you are all that belongs in this world. Make your heart pound until you forget yourself.” The way he wanted to touch and stroke her, to rouse her passion, and make her forget propriety.
“Oh my.” Her eyelids fluttered and she swayed ever so slightly forward. When he made no move toward her, she opened her eyes and met his gaze. “Aren’t you going to kiss me good night?”
“What?” His voice was harsh.
“You’ve kissed me every time in the past.”
“Do you want me to kiss you?”
She shrugged a slender shoulder. “I think you’re right and the wine has loosened my tongue.”
“I promised myself not to touch you.”
“You did?”
“Yes.”
She reached out and ran a finger down his cheek. She’d forgotten to put on her gloves and he was happy for it. He wanted to feel her hands on him. On his naked skin. She grazed the divot in his chin and came perilously close to his lips. He clenched his fists at his sides before he grasped her hand and pressed a kiss against the center of her palm. When she didn’t pull away, he sucked the tip of her finger into his mouth.
“Yes,” she said breathlessly. “I think I do want you to kiss me.”
His eyes never left hers. “Grace…”
“Maybe I want you to kiss me now. I’m wondering why it feels so different with you than with another’s.”
“What?”
“You know I’m not a new debutante. I’ve had my fair share of private garden strolls. I’ve even been kissed.” She looked at him pointedly. “Before you.”
“By whom?”
“Is that important?”
“Where?” he asked.
“I already said it took place in a garden.”
“No,” Ian said, suddenly furious. “Where were you kissed?”
She raised a finger to trace her full bottom lip. “On the mouth.”
“Jesus.”
“Your kisses made me feel strange and shivery and his—”
There was only so much a man could take. He pulled her into his arms and took her mouth. She tasted like fine wine, heady and tantalizing. She kissed him back, her tongue tangling with his, stealing his breath, his reason. She sighed into the kiss, clutched his shirt, and urged him to deepen it. His tightly leashed control snapped at the intoxicating essence of the woman in his arms. His tongue plundered her mouth, and when she eagerly met each thrust with her own, he growled in approval and tightened his hold. Her breasts brushed his chest and he wanted to lift her skirts, plunge inside her, and take her on the vestibule floor. He was determined to erase the thought of any other man’s kiss that might be in her mind. He struggled with his need to mark her, possess her, make her his.
He picked her up and pressed her against the wall by the door. She didn’t protest but squirmed against him to get closer. His hand found the folds in her cloak and slipped inside to cup a breast. Soft, plump, it filled his palm perfectly. His fingers grazed over the crest, and he felt her nipple harden beneath the silk.
She moaned then, a sexy little sound that fueled his lust even more. “Oh, yes. Definitely different.” She sighed against his lips.
He raised his head. “Better?” he said, his voice hoarse.
“Much.”
Their breath mingled for a heartbeat before he lowered his head to recapture her lips. She met him halfway.
Her whimpers were driving him wild. Never before had he ached so badly to possess a woman. He lowered his head, nipped her ear, and trailed kisses down her throat. She tilted her head to the side to give him better access. He kept going, kissing the swell of her breasts above her tight bodice. He worked his fingers inside the fabric, slowly delving until the tip of his finger grazed a nipple. It hardened beneath his touch, and she gasped.
“Oh, yes,” she moaned.
He grew harder in his trousers.
Just then, the door opened all the way and a woman’s voice pierced his haze of desire.
“Ian!”
Ian’s head snapped up to see his mother and another woman standing in the doorway. Good God. If he hadn’t been so consumed with lust by the enticing woman in his arms he would have heard their approach. He pushed Grace behind him and hoped she didn’t stumble to the floor. He knew she’d come to her senses when she gasped and clutched a fistful of his coat from behind.
“Mother. What are you doing here?”
“Our carriage broke down on our way home from Lady Jersey’s ball. Lady Taddlesworth is accompanying me. I thought it good luck we were stranded in front of your home, Ian. But perhaps I caught you at an inappropriate time.”
Lady Taddlesworth’s face was grim as she took in the scene, and Ian experienced a disquieting alarm.
“Is that Miss Ashton behind you? What are you doing here, young lady, in a bachelor’s home in the middle of the night?” the older woman asked.
Grace stepped from behind Ian. Her cloak was undone, her hair disheveled, and her lips moist and swollen from his kisses.
Ian’s mother looked at him pointedly. “A word alone, Ian. Now.”
…
She was going to be sick.
“The carriage will take you home, Grace.”
Seated stiffly on the bench, Grace’s stomach roiled with anxiety. Ian stood outside the carriage, a frown marring his features as he looked at her. His mother and Lady Taddlesworth were waiting in the drawing room for Ian to return.
Of all the rotten luck. One minute she was in Ian’s arms, blissfully aware of the sensual feelings he was arousing in her, and the next it felt as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head.
“Perhaps I should be present while you speak with—”
“No. I’ll take care of this.”
“How?”
“Leave it to me.”
Clearly, he didn’t understand. “I’m ruined!” she cried out. “Lady Castleton is your mother, and you may hold sway with her, but not Lady Taddlesworth. Your sisters call her a dragon, Ian.”
“I’ve handled worse situations at the club and more difficult people.”
“You don’t understand. Lady Taddlesworth is a notorious gossip and holds considerable power. The scandal will be horrendous. No one will have me now.”
“Don’t talk about that.”
“I think I’m going to be sick.” She shoved him aside and leaped out of the carriage just in time to retch, emptying the contents of her stomach into a bush. Rather than leave, the stubborn man held her hair and rubbed her back until the last of the spasms had passed. She felt too miserable to be embarrassed.
Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a handkerchief and wiped her brow and face and handed it to her. She took several deep breaths until her stomach settled and she’d regained her composure.
He helped her back into the carriage. “Please go home. I’ll send word to you tomorrow.”
Ian closed the door, and she rested her head back on the padded squabs and shut her eyes. She heard the squeak of the driver’s seat, then the carriage started moving.