Dangerous in Diamonds - Madeline Hunter [15]
She heard her own sighs and gasps as tantalizing sensations cascaded through her, each more powerful. She noted how his caresses rose higher now, close to her breasts, and how her nipples tingled, waiting for the touch that would obliterate the last of her reserve.
She saw herself falling fast, like the pathetic, lonely widow he thought her to be.
You must end this at once, or he will ignore your attempts to do so later. The warning screamed in her head, an ugly truth and an unwelcome reminder of all the devastating vulnerabilities a woman faced in the world.
Stopping it was hard. As hard as he probably knew it would be once she allowed the first liberty. Harder than she believed possible, considering she hardly knew him and did not need the costs of such passion explained.
Somehow, she found the strength and forced her body to stiffen, then her mouth to as well.
He noticed at once. He stopped the kiss. She knew not all men would under the circumstances. She refused to meet his eyes in the long, searching gaze he gave her. Then his arms fell away. He stepped back.
In the taut silence that followed, she pieced together some composure. She could hardly upbraid him for insulting her. Considering how she had behaved, that would be comical. She would not give him the satisfaction of watching her run away like a frightened mouse, though.
She turned away and pointed airily to the far wall of the greenhouse. “Allow me to show you the grapevine we grow here, Lord Castleford. It always amazes visitors to find one flourishing inside. We are very proud of it.”
She spoke nonstop as they strolled toward the passage that connected the greenhouse to the back sitting room. She explained the grapevine and encouraged him to admire a huge pot of camellias. He paced silently, a tall, dark presence exuding sensual danger.
She trusted he would take his leave gracefully, and they would pretend the kisses had never happened. He did not. Instead he subjected her to a gaze that ignored all social niceties. It was the gaze of a man debating his options and the strength of her will.
Heaven help her, he managed to revive some of those sensations in her while he looked too deeply into her eyes.
“I may have to devote the next year to seeing you in high color again, Mrs. Joyes.”
What an outrageous thing to threaten. Vexed, she curtsied and turned to make good her escape. “Since drunkards are beyond my interest, I expect that my composure is safe for a year of Tuesdays, Your Grace.”
Hell and Damnation.
Castleford downed another good swallow of brandy from his flask. It warmed his blood but did not help his mood one bit.
He cursed again more colorfully. Out loud. If Daphne Joyes heard, he really would not care. Nor, he assumed, would she.
He cursed Becksbridge and his stupid testament and letter. And his cowardice in not seeing matters through with his prior mistresses and instead leaving it to another man. I am depending on what little is left of the better side of your character. There was almost nothing left, damn it. Becksbridge had often pointed out as much.
Maybe it had all been a final joke to the old man. Perhaps he chuckled while he wrote that damned letter. The self-righteous ass—no, the self-righteous hypocrite—would throw his hated relative in the path of Mrs. Joyes, and Mrs. Joyes would show him what for.
Castleford took another swallow and looked around his chamber. Flowers covered every surface, it seemed. Damned yellow ones and damned blue ones made up repetitive sprigs that showered the bed drapes, curtains, pillows—the whole damned place. He had seen enough flowers today to carpet the realm. He would probably never see another one without remembering tonight.
She had thoroughly yielded. He knew she had. She had been all softness and sighs and sensual pliability, and he had been debating whether to lure her to a bed or take her right there. Then, suddenly, nothing. Nothing. Where in hell had she found the presence of mind to turn to stone like