Well, goodness, that was uncalled for, and close to disgracefully ribald. “Forgive me. It was stupid of me to think you might need company when clearly all you required was that decanter.”
“It was not stupid. It was very kind. Quite soft, actually. A very warm, womanly gesture. I am touched.” He smiled slowly. “However, if you truly want to help, if you truly want to distract me, there are better ways. When I saw that dress, I dared hope you had realized that.”
He reached over and slowly skimmed his fingertips along the low, curved edge of her dress’s neckline.
She almost jumped out of her skin, except her skin liked that touch too much to allow movement.
She savored the luring stroke and the memories it evoked for a delicious few moments.
Then she backed away. “You are indeed drunk.”
He followed, step for step. “As I warned you. I have an excuse. I am sure we can find one for you too.”
That flustered her badly. She was against the wall now, and he blocked any gracious retreat.
His fingertips stroked again. A feathery, delicious skimming sensation. He gazed in her eyes with a confident dare. She tightened her jaw and tensed her body to try and contain the lively tremors streaming through her.
“Mr. Knightridge, you are forgetting yourself.”
“Indeed I am, and I thank you most kindly. You have succeeded in thoroughly distracting me from the hell of the hour and my dark thoughts. That was your intention, no? To offer solace?” His hand slid up her skin in a trailing, seductive caress of unbearable titillation. It roamed around her neck until it cupped her nape in a gentle hold.
She did not believe he was thoroughly distracted. His manner bore an edge, a danger, that suggested the darkness not only still lived in him but also drove him.
She tried to shrug his hand off, to no avail. She made to move away from the wall, but with one step he blocked her again.
“What a generous woman you are, Lady M. All this time I thought you were an irritating, argumentative, interfering, opinionated female, but I was wrong.”
“It was not my intention to distract you like this, for heaven’s sake. Get hold of yourself, sir.”
“I would rather get hold of a woman. That would be very comforting right now. I assure you, nothing else will suffice.” He made a display of looking over each of his shoulders. “I’ll be damned, it appears you are the only woman here.”
His hand pressed against her neck, easing her forward. Panic and shock broke in her.
“Sir, it is ignoble of you to importune me in this manner. Your inebriation does not excuse it. I insist that you move and allow me to leave. I will not be—”
The next thing she knew he was kissing her.
How outrageous. How disastrous.
How . . . wonderful.
LORD OF SIN
A Bantam Book / May 2005
Published by
Bantam Dell
A Division of Random House, Inc.
New York, New York
All rights reserved
Copyright © 2005 by Madeline Hunter
Bantam Books and the rooster colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
Published simultaneously in Canada
www.bantamdell.com
eISBN: 978-0-553-90145-0
v3.0
Lord of Sin Page 31