Tempted By His Kiss

by Tracy Anne Warren

  With Knox looking after him, though, she supposed Cade had little need of her. Though when has Cade ever had need of me? She mused. From the first moment of her arrival in his life, he’d made no effort to conceal his wish to see her gone. She knew he was only biding his time, waiting for the day when he could dust his hands of her and return north to his estate.

  Yet despite her continued efforts and a couple of likely prospects—including Lieutenant McCabe, who had called just two days ago to take her strolling in the park—she couldn’t seem to make herself put forth enough enthusiasm to actually bring any of her would-be suitors up to scratch. She liked several of them, but as for love…

  She sighed. I am merely tired, she reassured herself. On the morrow, everything will seem different.

  Across the room, a friend motioned for Meg to join her and a group of cronies. But Meg smiled and waved a refusal, not at all in the mood to listen to the usual round of Town gossip and talk of the latest fashions. Walking toward the ballroom’s wide, double doors, she resumed her search for Mallory.

  Fifteen minutes later, as she made her way into a quiet section of the house, and still hadn’t found Mallory, she wondered if perhaps the other girl did not wish to be found. Now that she considered, she’d last seen Mallory dancing with a favourite new beau, Major Hargreaves—a dashing army officer of whom Mallory spoke often.

  Meg was about to turn and retrace her steps back to the festivities when she heard a noise from inside a nearby room. Curious, she walked forward, then paused to peer into her hosts’ library. The room was shrouded in near darkness, the only illumination a mellow fire burning in the hearth. Next to the blaze stood a solitary figure—one she immediately recognized as Lord Gresham.

  Having obviously heard her as well, he glanced up at her entrance. “Miss Amberley. Good evening.”

  “My lord.”

  “Normally, I would make all the usual polite remarks, but I must admit I am rather surprised at finding you here. What brings you into this part of the house?”

  “I was about to ask the same of you,” she replied. “But it would seem you have beaten me to it.”

  A smile tugged at his lips. “Well, never let it be said I am so ungallant as to deny a lady first rights at satisfying her curiosity.” He swept a hand toward the rows of floor-to-ceiling shelves. “Why, I came in search of a book, of course. What else, since this is a library, after all.”

  What else indeed, she mused, wondering if she might be interrupting an assignation. He didn’t look upset, however, so perhaps he had in fact come here to read. Or more likely he’d stolen off for a few moments respite from the press of the crowd. She had to confess that the shadowy, leather-scented solitude of the room was very pleasant—relaxing after the hubbub of the soiree.

  “You aren’t lost, are you, Miss Amberley?”

  She strolled farther into the room. “No. Actually, I was looking for someone.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Oh? Anyone I know?”

  “Yes. As a matter of fact, I was looking for Mallory. You haven’t…seen her, have you?”

  The smile slipped from his mouth, a fierce look crossing his face and shading his eyes. “As it would happen, I have. Lady Mallory and Major Hargreaves were here only a few minutes ago. I believe they have since returned to the ballroom.”

  Mallory and the major. So, Mallory has been with him. Had Lord Gresham caught them together, here in the library? Alone? If so, Gresham didn’t look happy about the discovery. In fact, he looked downright perturbed.

  Seconds later, however, his expression cleared, leaving her to wonder if she had glimpsed the emotion on his face at all. The lighting was poor, she decided. She must have been imagining things.

  “I should think,” he said in an even tone that further belied any strong feelings on his part, “that you would be wanting to return to the dancing as well.” Crossing toward her, he held out an arm. “Shall I escort you back?”

  In that moment she realized that he was trying to protect her. Is he worried for my good name? Contrary to his own scandalous reputation, she found him to be a surprisingly chivalrous man.

  “Yes, my lord,” she murmured, curving her hand over his sleeve. “I believe you are right and I ought to get back before I am missed.”

  “Rather too late for that,” drawled a familiar voice.

  Her gaze flew toward the imposing male figure standing in the doorway. “Cade!”

  “Meg,” he said in a clipped tone, one she couldn’t remember hearing from him before.

  “I thought you were playing cards.” She pulled her hand from Lord Gresham’s sleeve and lowered it to her side. Though why she did so, she couldn’t say, since the action spoke of guilt, and she had nothing whatsoever to feel guilty about.

  “And I thought you were in the ballroom dancing,” Cade remarked, moving farther into the room. “Imagine my surprise when I discovered you were not.”

  “No, I…um…decided I needed a respite from the crush of guests. As it happens, though, Lord Gresham and I were just on our way back. Why do we not all return together?”

  Cade planted a fist on his hip, his other hand gripped in an intimidating manner around the head of his gold-topped cane. He shot Gresham a look hot enough to scorch metal.

  “I think perhaps I ought to be the one to go ahead and let the two of you return at your leisure,” Gresham said. After making a brief bow, he steered a path around Cade and walked from the room.

  For a long moment the only sound was the quiet snapping of the logs in the grate as wood turned slowly to ash.

  “So you’ve got Gresham in your sights again, have you?” Cade ambled nearer, closing the distance between them. “I rather thought you’d decided on the lieutenant, though I suppose he doesn’t move in the same elevated circles, does he? He isn’t here tonight, for instance.”

  Her fingers curled against the folds of her skirt. “Lieutenant McCabe moves in perfectly respectable circles, and the fact that he is not in attendance this evening makes no difference to me.”

  “Just testing the waters, then, are you? Why else would you have come here with Gresham?”

  “I did not come here with him. He was already in the room when I arrived.”

  “Was he indeed?” Cade said in a deceptively smooth voice. “And why did you wander this way if not to meet him? Surely you hadn’t made an assignation with someone else?”

  She huffed out an exasperated sigh. “There was no assignation at all, and I must tell you that I resent your inference, my lord.”

  “Do you? Well, considering the circumstances, it is a presumption anyone might make. The ballroom is some distance away, and you were discovered alone with a man whose reputation for seduction is well-known. Wise mothers make sure not to let their innocent daughters wander off with men like Adam Gresham.”

  “And what of you? Could someone not make the same assumption at discovering us alone together, even though nothing whatsoever has occurred?”

  “No. For one thing, we are engaged.”

  “Oh, but we’re not.”

  He took another step forward so he stood less than a foot way. “That isn’t the point. What matters is that you were alone with him where anyone could have found you. Where I found you.” He moved forward again.

  Meg retreated a step, her path blocked as she came up against the back of the sofa. “So you’re worried about looking the cuckold, are you? Resentful of being deceived by your supposed fiancée?”

  A growl rumbled low in his throat. “No, I’m worried about you getting hurt, and falling prey to rakes and scoundrels. He’s not going to marry you, you know.”

  “Lord Gresham, you mean? Well, of course I know that. But then neither are you. Now, I believe I shall return to the ballroom. I’m sure I’ve promised a dance to some gentleman with whom I should make it my business to become better acquainted.”

  She tried to take a sideways step around him, but his large muscled body prevented her. “Your pardon, Lord
Cade,” she said, “but pray allow me to pass.”

  An inscrutable expression crossed his face. “No, I don’t believe I will.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Setting his cane aside, he placed his hands against the sofa, imprisoning her in between. “I don’t believe I shall excuse you, either.”

  Before she had time to read his intent and attempt to counter it, his mouth came down upon her own, claiming her with a kiss that literally rocked her back on her heels. For several long, shocked seconds her mind grew dull, her senses caught in an irresistible rush of pleasure.

  Resting her hands on his shoulders, she curled her fingers into the warm, pliant wool of his tailored, superfine coat. Holding on, she let him take her deeper. But something about the contrast of his firm, masculine shoulders against the softness of her skin triggered an inner awareness that nudged her from her haze. Digging in her nails this time, she gave him a little push. “Enough!”

  In answer, he turned his head and buried his lips against the curve of her neck, stunning her anew by doing something utterly delectable with his tongue. Suppressing a full body shiver, she willed herself to resist. “Did you hear me? I said stop.”

  Leaning away, he met her gaze, his eyes the colour of grass after a pounding summer rain. “Sound like you mean it and I just might.”

  “Stop playing with me, Cade.”

  Sliding a hand upward, he cupped the fullness of one of her breasts. After a brief pause, he gave a gentle squeeze. “Does this feel like I’m playing?”

  She couldn’t control the shudder that raked her frame. With blood thundering inside her temples, she shook her head.

  Gripping her hips, he lifted her off her feet and sat her on the top edge of the sofa. Parting her legs, he stepped between, his palms sliding low to curve around her bottom. “Do you still want me to stop?”

  Her toes arched inside her slippers, traitorous need simmering like a fire in her veins. “Yes,” she murmured, her refusal sounding frail and faltering even to her own ears.

  He stared at her for a long, penetrating moment. “Liar.”

  Tugging her flush against his body, he crushed her lips to his once more, and dragged forth a ragged moan they both knew to be her surrender. At his urging, she opened her mouth to let his tongue delve inside, accepting his possession with a mindless hunger of her own. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she gave herself over to the pleasure, savouring his taste and his touch.

  Meg whimpered as he cradled the back of her head in his hand, angling her face so he could draw even more fully upon her. Time ground down to a slow tick as he led her in a warm, wet dance, her eyelids fluttering closed as she met and matched his every command. Quivering inside his embrace, she let him take her where he willed, his other hand fully occupied as he sent her spinning upward into further layers of delight.

  Beginning with her breasts, he caressed her, bringing her nipples to taut, aching peaks as he toyed with her through the thin silk of her gown. When that wasn’t enough, he slipped his fingers inside her bodice to find bare flesh, scissoring first one nipple, then the other between the skilled movements of his thumb and forefinger.

  She moaned again into his open mouth and instinctively arched against the insistent proof of his arousal, shifting restlessly as her body was claimed by awakening needs that she had no wish to deny.

  Groaning low in his throat, Cade kissed her harder, savaging her mouth with an ardour that was as dark as it was seductive. Senses spinning, she gave no thought or complaint when his hand left her breast to stroke the length of her thigh. Nor again when he gathered the material of her dress and slipped beneath her skirts. She quaked at the sensation of his bare hand against her naked skin, his palm gliding high, then higher still along her trembling limb.

  His other hand lowered to the small of her back, urging her forward so her legs parted even more. Kissing her all the while, he stroked toward her centre, tangling for a few brief seconds in the nest of short curls he found there before slipping a single finger between the tender folds of her femininity. Wet heat dampened his hand, a reaction he seemed to expect and enjoy, the fragrant moisture turning her slick against his touch.

  She gasped, the sound muffled against his lips as he tilted her hips a little more to slide deeper, using his fingers, and even the heel of his hand, in ways that drove every rational thought from her brain. Tiny breaths panted from her mouth as he caressed her in the most shockingly delicious manner, her initial embarrassment fading against a compulsive need for more.

  Breaking their kiss, he pressed her face against his neck. “Let go,” he murmured into her ear. “Let yourself fly.”

  And after another pair of rapturous, stroking caresses, she did—her entire body shuddering in a great, cataclysmic burst of pleasure that set every nerve and sinew afire. He held her as she shook, her cries muffled against the starched linen of his neck cloth.

  She felt him reach for the buttons on his falls, fingers quivering in his hurry to unfasten his breeches. In the distance a clock struck midnight, the chime echoing its sweet music in twelve, evenly spaced beats. Cade froze, his hand falling still.

  Biting out a livid curse, he stepped away from her, his lungs working like bellows as he drew in several ragged breaths. “Cover yourself,” he ordered, his hands turning to fists at his sides as he fought a silent battle of wills.

  For a long moment she couldn’t move, her body still caught up in the blissful aftermath of his touch. Forcing herself out of her daze, she pushed at her skirts—nearly stumbling as she leapt the couple inches off the back of the sofa to the floor. Cade reached out to steady her with a hand at her elbow. As soon as it was clear she wouldn’t fall, he let go, turning to make his way across the room.

  She shivered, feeling his desertion with a sharpness akin to pain. Hands trembling, she brushed weakly at her skirts, then found her way to a nearby chair. Gratefully, she sank down upon it.

  As for Cade, he stood staring into the burning embers, one palm set against the mantel above his bent head. Abruptly, he closed his eyes as though struggling to regain his composure. “Are you capable of returning to the ballroom?” he asked in a brusque tone. “Or do I need to find an excuse for your early departure?”

  The ballroom! Dear Lord, she hadn’t even considered the festivities still going on only a few rooms away. Heat spread upward into her cheeks, making her wonder if she looked as unsettled as she felt.

  “You look fine,” he said, as though she’d voiced her thoughts aloud. “Or rather, you will in a few minutes more, once some of the redness fades from your mouth.”

  Instinctively, she lifted a hand to her lips, only then realizing that Cade’s rapacious kisses had left more than a residual tingling behind—her mouth swollen and almost hot.

  “You can say you have a headache,” he offered. “No one will question you.”

  Why does he sound so cold? She wondered. Had their passion meant nothing to him? Obviously, he’d remembered himself before matters had gone too far for recall, and put a stop to their embrace while she could still claim to be a virgin. As for herself, she’d had no such self-control, her senses completely abandoned to him.

  Shoulders straightening, she drew herself upright. “Pray do not trouble yourself, my lord. I am quite well. Now, if you will excuse me.”

  “Meg—”

  But she couldn’t listen anymore. Jumping to her feet, she fled the room.

  Cade took a few steps to follow, then forced himself to halt, cursing under his breath as he did. Hell and damnation. What was he doing? Thinking? But wasn’t that the problem? That he hadn’t been thinking?

  When he trailed Meg here to the library, he’d intended to separate her from whatever blackguard she had let lead her away from the ball. Yet the instant they were alone, he’d been kissing her himself, craving her with a hunger he knew he hadn’t any right to feel. Christ, he was no better than the rakes of whom he warned her. Worse, actually, since he was supposed to be her friend
, a brother figure who was looking out for her well-being.

  Some brother, he scoffed. He couldn’t even blame his behaviour on an excess of drink, since he’d had no more than a single glass of wine at dinner, and nothing afterward. Like it or not, the fault was entirely his own. When Meg had asked—or rather, demanded—to be allowed to return to the ballroom, he should have let her go. But the uncomfortable truth was that in those moments, he could no more have allowed her to go than he could have cut off his own arm.

  He wanted her, hungered for her with a need that was beginning to border on an addiction. Ever since the night she’d come to his room with her poultice and her good wishes for his improved health, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. His dreams were plagued with fantasies of her, most of them so erotic he awakened hard and throbbing, left to beat his fist against the empty sheets in frustration when he realized they had been naught but a chimera. So tonight when she’d been in his arms for real…

  I need to leave! Go home to Northumberland where everything is calm and quiet and there are no willowy blond temptresses underfoot to drive me mad.

  Yet if he left London, he knew he risked putting Meg’s reputation in jeopardy by appearing to desert her. Then again, if he stayed, might he not end up doing far worse?

  He supposed his best course would be to bed some other woman. There were certainly plenty of willing females wherever he went. Were he so inclined, he knew he could find one tonight at this very ball—some eager widow or discontented wife who would relish a furtive tumble or two. But if he took one of them, word would be sure to get out, and he had no wish to disgrace or embarrass Meg.

  No, if he wanted to slake his lust, he’d have to do it with a prostitute. There were discreet houses, of course, with clean, healthy girls of whom he could avail himself. If he had any sense, he would find some excuse and go to one now. Yet in spite of the erection still riding him after his aborted encounter with Meg, the thought held little actual appeal.