She gave him the benefit of an exasperated look. “My lord, I am five and twenty. I have been in the market for a husband these last seven years and have simply failed to catch one. I was not, however, so desperate as to stoop to trickery and subterfuge.”
He stared at her for a long moment, that blue gaze studying her so thoroughly she had to fight to hold it. At length, he sighed, and looked so dejected Bunty wanted to reach out and take his hand. She folded her own in her lap.
“So, you set no trap. You were acting honourably, saving a friend from disaster, and facing down his enemy for him. Tommy is lucky indeed to have you on his side. You are brave and bold, Miss Bunting.”
Bunty blushed, unused to hearing herself described in such a light. “Nonsense. Anyone would have done the same.”
He gave a little huff of amusement. “No. They would not, and that you could still believe that shows exactly the kind of person you are.”
“A fool, you mean,” she said tightly, quite used to her parents telling her she was too naïve, too willing to look for the good in people who would end up using her for their own ends.
“No!” he exclaimed, his dark brows pulling together. He shifted on the seat, turning towards her, which pressed his knee harder against hers. “Not that. Never a fool, Bunty.”
Bunty stared at him, unable to work this strange creature out. What did he want from her, this beautiful man who looked like a god, who was supposed to be wicked and wild? He was meant to be the worst kind of rake, and yet had such kindness in his eyes, and he was looking at her now like… like….
“Bunty,” he said, his voice low.
“Y-Yes?”
“I should like to kiss you.”
“Oh.”
Bunty’s heart gave an odd little kick in her chest and she felt an awful blush creep up her chest, up her neck, heating her face. Good lord, she must be scarlet by now. How dreadfully unattractive and gauche. He grinned at her and reached out, touching her cheek.
“Such a pretty colour,” he murmured. “I love that you blush so easily. I wish I could see where the colour begins.”
“My lord!” she exclaimed, wondering why she wasn’t cross with him for having said such a thing, but she was not. Shocked, yes, but not a bit cross.
“I’m sorry,” he said, the sheepish look he gave her quite adorable, even though wickedness still glinted in his eyes. “I know I ought not say such things, but I’ve never been good at dissembling, at saying the right thing, the polite thing. I’m not polite at all, but I suppose you know that.”
“Not in the least,” Bunty replied, wishing she did not sound so breathless, but his fingers were still caressing her cheek. She had the urgent desire to lean into his touch, like a cat. Good heavens. “As I said, you were always kind. Unlike many of your ilk.”
“In what way was I kind?”
His fingers trailed along the line of her jaw, down her neck, and Bunty shivered.
“You never ignored me. You smiled at me, and not in a mocking way, but like we might be friends if we were introduced. I appreciated that more than you’ll know.”
“Bunty,” he said, and the way he said her name, all soft and low, made her breath catch in her throat. She looked up at him, struck by the way his eyes had darkened. “That wasn’t kindness, love. I have so wanted someone to introduce us, but no one would let a devil like me near such a prize. The only way I could be near you was to fall into a trap set for another, but perhaps it was fate.”
A prize? Bunty’s mind had grown fuzzy at his proximity. He was leaning closer to her and his scent filled her mind. He smelled of clean linen, soap, and something male and musky that made her insides tremble with longing. She could hardly comprehend what he was saying. Her brain had fallen into a swoon when he’d said her name so softly, and it showed no signs of reviving.
“May I kiss you now?”
“K-Kiss?” she murmured hazily, blinking at him.
His mouth was so close to hers, his full lips sensuous, and the urge to press her mouth to his was overwhelming. So she did. His lips were soft and warm and… oh good heavens. She’d kissed him!
She drew back with a gasp, covering her mouth with her hand.
“Oh!” she said in horror. Good God, what would he think of her now? That she was a brazen hussy, most likely. Mortified, she lifted her gaze to find him looking down at her in amusement.
“Well, don’t stop there,” he said, one large hand moving to her waist. He leaned in again and nuzzled at her cheek, his voice a delicious whisper against her skin. “Do it again.”
Bunty swallowed, wondering if she dared.
“Please,” he added.
Well, how could she resist when he asked so nicely?
His mouth was so close she only had to move a little and their lips touched again. Bunty let out a shaky breath, overwhelmed by how sweet it felt to kiss him. She pressed a little firmer and withdrew and he only watched her, saying nothing, not moving. Bunty kissed him again, a soft press of lips, followed by another, and another, and oh, it was lovely but… she wanted more.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she admitted.
“Are you sure?” he asked, and she was struck by how dark his eyes had grown, the black swamping the blue. His voice was low and breathless too, and he licked his lips, as though tasting hers.
Bunty’s own breath hitched. “Sure about what?”
“That you don’t know what you’re doing. It seems to me that you are quite adept.”
Bunty frowned, uncertain if he was sincere.
“Don’t tease me,” she said quietly. “I know there must be far more.”
“I wasn’t teasing, but yes… there’s more.”
“Show me, then.”
No doubt she was an unattractive shade of puce by now, but there was nothing to be done about that. Besides, he’d said he liked her blush. Strange man.
“With pleasure.”
Bunty gasped as he took her in his arms and held her close before his mouth covered hers. His kisses were nothing like hers had been. There was nothing shy or tentative about the way his mouth sought hers, or the way his tongue traced the seam of her mouth. His tongue! Bunty gasped and went to pull back, but he held her there, his tongue invading her mouth and stroking and… pleasure rolled through her. The day was cold, and their secluded spot out of the sun chillier still, yet Bunty was burning up. A slow fire had begun low in her belly and melted everything it touched until her bones were molten and everything beneath her flesh simmered. She was pliant in his arms, willing to go where he led, willing to do almost anything to keep the delicious liquid heat spilling through her body. His hand moved over her, up from her waist, moving slowly higher as Bunty’s pounding heart reached a crescendo. She held her breath as he carried on higher still to cup her full breast. He caressed and gently squeezed, and even through all the layers of material the sensation was incredible. Bunty moaned with pleasure.
“Christ,” he murmured, eyes wide as he broke the kiss.
Bunty was slammed back to reality in an instant.
Good God, what was wrong with her? She’d let him ravish her in the middle of Hyde Park, and would have allowed him a great many more liberties if he hadn’t stopped. Where were all the lessons her mother had taught her? Gone. Burned away in the passion he had made her feel. No wonder he was considered so bloody dangerous.