Her stomach tightened at the realization that she could not. This had been a fool’s errand from the onset and it was its ego put an end to the shenanigans. If that meant she would never marry, then so be it. She'd embrace her fate come what may. "Thank you for your company," Daphne said, releasing his arm. "I'd like to return to the music room."
She pivoted, then took a step. Her foot caught in the gossamer fabric of her gown and she stumbled, her body coming against Mr. Ashes.
He locked his arms around her, steadying her and stared down into her face. “Easy. I’ve got you.”
“Take your hands from her,” Marcus’s voice boomed from somewhere behind her. “What the devil is going on?”
Mr. Ashe relaxed his hold, allowing her to step back. Face burning, she turned to Marcus. “I lost my balance.”
He turned infuriated blue eyes on Mr. Ashe. “Is that true?”
Overcome with a sudden wave of anger, Daphne peered at Marcus. “How dare you question my word? You have no right! Mr. Ashe was being nothing more than a gentleman and you—”
“Let’s discuss this in private.” Marcus grabbed her arm, tugging her through a nearby door. He kicked it closed behind them with no concern for what Mr. Ashe might think or do.
Daphne huffed, her breaths coming in labored gasps. “You’ll start a scandal.”
"I don't give a damn if I do." He closed the distance between them in three long strides. "If you want a kiss, I'll be the one to give it." He lowered his head, capturing her lips with his.
Daphne’s knee’s threatened to buckle and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders for support. She should push him away. Slap him for all he’d put her through. But she was powerless to do anything other than bend to his will.
He slanted his mouth over hers, hot and demanding. She gasped at the flood of new sensations and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into the recess of her mouth. Following his lead, she caressed his tongue with hers, massaging and tasting, taking all he offered.
He slid his hands down her back, cupped her bottom, and pulled her closer against his muscular body. A flood of heat pooled between her thighs and she moaned, "Marcus."
He released her so fast that she stumbled back. “Did I do something wrong?”
“You did everything right,” he ground out the words, then turned and stormed to the door. Peering back at her, he said, “Now that you’ve had your kiss, you can stop this nonsense.” Turning his back to her, he disappeared through the door.
Daphne marched to the door, pulled it open, and peered down the hall at his retreating back. How dare he kiss her as he had and then speak to her in such a demeaning way? “To the devil with you!”
She slammed the door. With her heart pounding, she leaned against the solid wood slab and exhaled a deep breath. She brought her fingertips to her tender lips and her anger evaporated. She’d received her kiss, and oh what a marvelous kiss it had been.
Chapter 8
Despite the cold winter air and gently falling snow Marcus’s blood warmed as he watched Daphne ice skating across the frozen pond. Why the hell had he kissed her? He should have known it wouldn’t lead anywhere good. Now he found himself desperate to possess a woman who was off limits to him. Not only was she Bradford’s beloved cousin, but she was too sweet by far.
Still, he burned with desire for her. She was everything he never wanted. Sweet, shy, innocent. It was for all those reasons and more that he’d refused to kiss her so many years prior. The same reasons he should have denied her now. He wasn’t fit to take such a woman to wife.
She skated past with Natalie beside her and their eyes met for the briefest of moments. Had he detected longing in her blue depths? He studied her as she made her way around the pond. Did she long for him as he did her? The fire in her gaze spoke to such feelings.
He was proving to be quite the fool. Surely he’d only imagined the invitation in her eyes for somehow he doubted that she would welcome him.
Unable to withstand the torture any longer, he rose to leave. She did not want him. Even if she did, he was all wrong for her. Scooping up his skates, he started toward the house. A warm fire and tumbler of whiskey would be most welcome.
Marcus made his way to the billiards room then went directly to the sideboard. He poured a copious amount of whiskey into a tumbler. The liquor slid over his tongue and warmed his throat. He finished the contents of his glass in one long gulp before turning to inspect the room.
Grateful to find it empty, save for himself, he refilled his tumbler. Marcus lifted the crystal decanter into his empty hand and strolled to the window. As though he had no power over his own actions, he peered into the dark night. Torchlight lit the frozen pond, casting shadows over its icy surface.
As if of its own accord, his gaze searched for Daphne. He could not stop himself from wondering who she skated with now. Questions circled through his mind in a never-ending succession. Was she laughing? Did she notice his absence and wonder where he’d gone? Was she chilled?
He’d give anything for the right to warm her. To wrap her in his embrace and kiss her soundly while he rubbed his hands over her lush body. His groin tightened at the images forming in his mind.
“Bloody hell.” He ground the words out from between clenched teeth. It seemed there was no way to escape her. The more he tried not to think about Daphne, the more she haunted him. He tossed back the whiskey remaining in his tumbler.
When he stared back out at the pond, his gaze caught on Daphne—and Ashe.
Without thought, Marcus slammed his tumbler down, turned, and propelled himself toward the pond. Ashe had no business with her. The man was a bigger rogue than he with next to no moral compass. His intentions could not be honorable. They never were. Further, the man had no qualms about ruining innocent women. In his view, if the woman was willing she wasn’t so innocent.
Fury burned within Marcus as he stepped back into the cold night. He had to warn Daphne—had to save her from Ashe.
He drew in a deep breath as he stopped through the snow. She wouldn’t truly take advantage of Bradford’s relation. The man may be without honor where ladies were concerned, but he valued his friends. Besides, Ashe had to know that they’d throttle him if he ruined any one of the ladies in residence.
Marcus relaxed a measure, though the need to warn Daphne still sat heavy in his mind. Ashe may not ruin her, but he may well leave her broken-hearted. She did not deserve to be toyed with. He caught sight of her near the opposite side of the frozen pond. Forgoing his skates, Marcus slid across the icy surface on the soles of his boots.
“Lady Rosamond,” He called after her.
Daphne turned toward him, her eyes widening a fraction before she glanced back at Ashe.
Marcus stopped beside her, his pulse hammering. “I need to speak with you.”
“I’m busy at present.” She looked from him to Ashe. “Mr. Ashe is regaling me with tales of his youth.”
Marcus’s jaw ticked as he studied his friend. He’d wager Ashe was amusing himself by playing with her emotions. He’d charm her for the duration of the house party then never pay her mind again. The idea rankled, causing Marcus’s anger to burn hotter. “I’m certain Mr. Ashe will not object to my stealing you away.”
Marcus met Ashe’s gaze with a glaring stare. “Would you?”
“Of course not.” Ashe lifted Daphne’s hand to his mouth then placed a kiss over her glove covered knuckles. “Until next we meet, My Lady.”
Daphne blushed, a sweet smile tugging at her lips. “My Lord.”
Marcus pressed his lips together and balled his fists at his sides. He wanted to pummel Ashe. To call him out and demand he leave Daphne alone. Perhaps he should do that very thing.
“Is something the matter?” Worry laced Daphne’s voice as she laid a hand on his shoulder.
He turned back to her, his anger giving way to her touch. “I’m worried about you.”
“Me? Why?” A line crossed her forehead as she sta
red back at him, confusion swimming in her gaze.
He pondered his next words for a moment not exactly sure how to convey his fears. He couldn’t very well tell her how Ashe used woman then discarded them. One simply did not speak to ladies about such things. He had to formulate a more delicate way of conveying his meaning.
“I assure you, I’m quite well.” Daphne removed her hand from his shoulder.
Marcus shook his head. “Ashe is not for you.”
A slight grin tilted her lips. “You think I have romantic inclinations toward Mr. Ashe?”
“You have been spending quite a bit of time with him.”
Daphne stepped closer—to close, for Marcus nearly took her on his arms.
She shook her head a decided sadness clouding her eyes. “I’ve given my heart to another so you needn’t worry about that.”
He stopped himself from asking who she’d gifted her heart to. The answer shone in her blue gaze and sizzled in her touch. His fingers twitched with the need to pull her against him—to claim her—but he could not.
Instead, he averted his gaze and swallowed past the tightness in his throat.
“Marcus?”
He turned back to her, the expectant look in her eyes tugging at his heart, and said, “Goodnight, Daphne.”
Appearing crestfallen, she nodded. “Goodnight.”
Rather than sliding across the pond on his boots, Marcus stepped onto the snow-covered ground at the edge of the pond. As he made his way around the skaters, he pondered what Daphne had said as well as what she’d left unsaid. Perhaps he only imagined that she’d meant him. Maybe she had fallen in love with someone else entirely.
He could only hope that was the truth of it, and that the lucky gentleman deserved her love.
Chapter 9
The ballroom sparkled beneath the light of hundreds of candles. Boughs of holly, evergreen, and bright paper flowers hung about the space, while the quartet played a mixture of Christmas carols and popular dance music. Daphne should be enjoying the festivities, dancing, laughing, and flirting, but all she seemed capable of doing was mooning over Marcus.
She’d never expected that their kiss would hold any meaning for him, but neither had she believed it would hold so much for her. The truth was he’d stolen her heart as surely as she’d stolen his kiss. True she hadn’t accosted him, but she’d still been the one to initiate the kiss not through action but certainly through words.
After all, she’d asked him to do it. Reminded him of their long-ago deal. Invited him to take her lips with his. What a fool she was to think she could kiss him then walk away as though nothing had transpired between them.
Worse yet; all of her actions had been for nothing. The kiss they shared wouldn’t do her any good for she’d never wish to marry anyone other than him. And the incorrigible rogue would never offer for her. Of that she was certain. For heaven’s sake, she’d all but told him she was in love with him and he’d simply bid her goodnight.
Daphne sighed, flipped open her fan. She sought Marcus out for the millionth time since entering the ballroom. He did not seem to be having any more fun than she was. Every time her eyes caught his, her cheeks warmed and she averted her gaze to the polished floor. But when he did not notice ogling him, she took the opportunity to drink him in, committing every inch of him to memory.
Marcus had spent most of the evening alone. His mouth turned down and a deep frown line creasing his forehead. The few times she'd witnessed him speaking with someone, the conversations had ended quickly. She'd also noticed how he kept pulling a flask from his coat. Perhaps he was in as foul a mood as she. But why?
“Drink this.” Natalie handed her a flute of champagne.
Daphne accepted the offer, tipping the glass to her lips. The sweet bubbly liquor tickled her tongue and warmed her chest. She swallowed then offered a weak smile. “Thank you.”
Natalie bobbed her head, her dark curls flouncing around her temples. “Finish it.”
Daphne did as her cousin bid, drinking the champagne until nothing remained in her flute.
“Now come along. We’ve dance partners.” Natalie waved her fan toward the mass of guests crowding the space.
Daphne nodded a small bubble of excitement welling within her. She stood, perhaps a little to fast as the room seemed to tilt then right itself. She wasn’t accustomed to drinking alcohol and therefore wholly unprepared for the pleasant effect it seemed to be having on her. Nonetheless, she would embrace the euphoria and enjoy the evening.
In what seemed an instant Daphne was sweet onto the dance floor with by Lord St. Vella. He deposited her at the head of the line then took his place. Beside her, Natalie stood with her father across from her. The quartet struck the first cords of a reel and Daphne came forward to curtsey to Lord St. Villa.
She smiled broadly to the point her cheeks began to hurt as he led her through the dance. All thought fled her mind. The music acted as a salve for her wounded heart and by the time he led her down the line, she was giggling with joy.
Natalie offered a broad grin of her own when the two crossed paths to twirl with one another partners. Daphne took her uncle’s elbow with enthusiasm and tipped her head back a fraction as he spun her around. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d had such fun—experienced such abandon.
“Thank you.” Daphne curtsied to Lord St. Vella. “I cannot recall the last time I enjoyed a dance so thoroughly.”
“It was my pleasure.” He bowed to her before offering his arm to her. Together with Natalie and her father, The Duke of Sheridan, they exited the dance floor.
Daphne’s attention snagged on Marcus. He stood stoically by the edge of the polished dance floor. His stark white cravat contrasted his unruly midnight locks and his brilliant blue gaze shone brighter than all of the candles in the room. A pang of longing struck her core.
Did he mean to dance? Her heart tugged at the thought of him with another woman. She closed her eyes for a heartbeat, then returned her attention to Natalie. Whatever Marcus did was none of her concern. “I’m parched. Let us get another flute of champagne.”
Natalie waved her fan before her flushed face. “What a splendid idea.”
“The two of you go ahead. I am going to stay with the duke.” Lord St. Vella nodded as she and Natalie released his arms.
"I won't be overlong, my love," Natalie said.
Daphne wove in and out through the crowd and around potted evergreens. The effects of her first glass had all but worn off and she found herself desperate to regain the carefree attitude she’d had. Reaching the refreshment table, she plucked to flutes form a silver tray and handed one to Natalie.
“You ladies are a vision.” Mr. Ashe sidled up to them, lifting a champagne flute from the table.
“How you flatter us.” Natalie batted her lashes.
Daphne’s cheeks warmed with familiar heat as she gave him a smile. “Thank you.”
He grinned at her revealing straight pearly teeth. “May I have this dance, My Lady?”
Natalie nudged Daphne when she failed to reply. “Yes. Yes of course,” Daphne stammered over the words.
Mr. Ashe offered his arm but before Daphne accepted it, she tipped the flute to her lips and drained its contents. It was not that she objected to dancing with Mr. Ashe, but rather that Marcus would likely be watching. Given what occurred the last time she found herself in Mr. Ashe’s company the idea left her a bit unsettled.
Regardless, she would enjoy herself. Marcus did not want her. He’d made no romantic overtures. Heaven’s, he’d not even asked her to dance. She owed him nothing and had already paid him dearly. Tonight would be about indulging herself. Celebrating the holiday, laughing, and dancing. Perhaps even a little flirting—and if that happened with Mr. Ashe, then so be it.
Chapter 10
Marcus’s pulse sped. Why the devil was Ashe lingering around Daphne? And why the hell was she smiling at him? She’d told him her interest did not lie with Ashe, but her actions spoke othe
rwise. Had she changed her mind?
Bloody hell, He’d given her what she’d wanted. Kissed her soundly, and lost a piece of himself as a result. He took a long drink from his flask.
She was supposed to return to the sidelines, not spend her time flirting with Ashe. Marcus rubbed a hand through his hair, pushing a stray lock from his eye. If he were being honest he’d admit that he did not wish the life of a wallflower for her. She’d become a stunning woman—far too beautiful to linger in the shadows.
More than that, she was innocent, kind, brave, and full of life and intelligence. She was everything a woman should be and more. The lucky bastard who took her to wife would have no regrets. And why shouldn’t that man be him?
He started toward her then stopped himself. He had no right to intrude. If she desired more from him, she’d have made her feelings known. He pulled the flask from his coat pocket and took a long drink.
“You are of the age to marry. Perhaps the two of you would suit?” The Duke of Sheridan’s words rattled through his mind. “Mores-the-pity, for I don’t believe she will remain unwed for long.” He feared her uncle may have been correct. Like a butterfly leaves its cocoon, Daphne had flourished.
He swallowed back a protest as she took Ashe’s arm. Could he truly remain idol while his friend chased her skirts? Would he be happy while she succumbed to another man? His heart constricted in a way he’d never before experienced and when Ashe pulled Daphne into his arms, Marcus knew he’d never be happy without her.
Abandoning his flask, Marcus strode toward the dancing couples. He had to put an end to these shenanigans at once. Daphne was his. Perhaps she always had been and he’d been too much of a buffoon to realize it. But no more.
He approached then tapped Ashe on the shoulder. His friend turned to him but made no move to release his hold on Daphne. Marcus peered. “She will be finishing the dance with me.”
Stealing a Rogue's Kiss (Connected by a Kiss Book 4) Page 4