by Kimberly Nee
But when his impulsive sister elopes and kidnaps his daughter, he finds himself wishing he had listened to the little busybody. And Perdita, feeling partly responsible for the disaster, boldly sets out to help him put things right.
Alone in a strange city with his lordship, plunged into danger, Perdita discovers there is more than meets the eye under the pampered skin of the marquis. There is strength, power…and passion beyond her wildest dreams.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Met by Chance:
Desire rose, sharp and needy. She wanted him. He couldn’t want her. Part of her mind still couldn’t believe anyone would want her, having seen those terrible marks. But she responded, accepting him, responding to his caresses. She smoothed her hands up and down his back, revelling in the bare skin under her palms. He felt wonderful, warm and alive, muscles tensing when he tightened his hold on her.
Charles lifted his head slightly. “I want you, ma cherie,” he murmured, his breath hot against her lips. “Will you come to bed with me?”
Perdita nodded and watched the warmth flood into his eyes. Still not quite believing he could want her after seeing what her accident had done to her body, she stared at him, wanting him. Not taking his gaze from her face, he released her to bring his hands around to the front of her gown. He unhooked the fastenings, until her gown was undone to the waist. A few more hooks and she could shrug it off.
It fell to the floor around her feet with a slap of wet fabric. Perdita stepped out of it, and turned, feeling his hands go to the laces at the back of her stays.
The fichu tucked into her neckline had fallen with the gown. Perdita reached up and undid the pins fastening her hair into a neat bun, taking each pin out carefully, glad she hadn’t braided it. They were the only hairpins she had, and they only just did the job of holding her fine, silky locks in place. Holding the pins, she turned back to him, and let her stays fall. Her hands were steady, her mind sure. She had no doubts.
His expression had turned needy, his eyes blazing with desire. Perdita no longer asked how or why, but just accepted. It was true. No one could fabricate that expression, and it was all for her. She’d never seen it before on anyone, but inside, her body responded, heating and dampening for him.
“I won’t hurt you,” he promised. “I want to love you, Peri, but I’ll leave you intact. I want you to keep all the choices you had when you entered this room. I won’t restrict you, Perdita, nor will I force you to any decision you might not want to take.”
She understood, and she warmed to his concern. A virgin could still make a good marriage, could have her choice of men. But there was something he didn’t know. She swallowed, summoning up the courage, afraid that look she wanted would soon turn to distaste.
“I’m not intact,” she said, and unable to watch the transformation in his face, dropped her gaze. He might still want her, but the respect, the concern might be gone now she had told him her shameful secret.
His fingers went under her chin again, forcing her to look.
There was no change, except an edge of concern. “You mean it?” She nodded, once. “Perdita?”
Once more, she nodded.
Facing each other, in an unspoken pact both instinctively understood, they finished disrobing. Perdita dropped her under-petticoat on the pile of discarded clothing, put the precious hairpins on the small table by the bed, and turned back to him to remove her shift, lifting it over her head in a sweep of fine linen.
They stared at each other. She’d known he was finely formed, supple muscle and soft skin, but what she saw below his waist made her pause.
Gifted indeed. So gifted she had her doubts.
When she eventually looked back at his face, she saw anxiety had taken hold. “I told you I had compensations,” he said wryly. “But Perdita, you’re so small, so delicate.”
Forcing down her fear she reached out one hand to him. “We can only try.”
“Oh, Peri!” His voice caught and he pulled on her hand, dragging her against his hard, warm body, caressing her back, sliding his hands down to her bottom. He took her mouth in another kiss, hot and rich with promise. His tongue no longer caressed. It demanded, reaching into her, demonstrating his need and his desire.
He whispered to her, voice shaking. “I promise I won’t hurt you. If we can do nothing else I can love you, show you how beautiful, how desirable you are.”
He led her across the room, his hand linked with hers, but their bodies separate until they reached the small, uncurtained bed. Watching her, he sat, drawing her to sit beside him. He curved his arm around her shoulders and drew her down, kicking the coarse cover out of the way to reveal the crisp, clean linen sheets. He held her and kissed her, letting her accustom herself to the feel of bodies in contact, skin to skin.
Perdita had never been closer to anyone else in her life. Before this she had recklessly offered her virginity but had been made aware of her mistake almost as soon as she’d made it. This time it felt right. He stroked her, slowly moving his hands over her body, cherishing and learning. When she touched him, he welcomed it, although she kept her caresses to his lean back and smooth chest. He felt larger without his clothes, somehow. Or perhaps she felt smaller. Fichus, hoops, voluminous petticoats all helped to add bulk to her figure, and her stays reshaped her, pushing her small breasts up to appear almost generous. She hoped he wasn’t disappointed.
He didn’t seem to be. Perdita felt him take the tip of her nipple between his finger and thumb and roll it gently, urge it to peak even more than it had already. He pressed gentle kisses on to her mouth, kisses which gradually deepened, becoming longer, and more intense, but slowly.
It was as if they had all the time in the world. Time stretched before them in an infinity of possibilities. He released her breast, flattening his hand to draw his palm down her body, over the curves of her waist, over her hips and further. When he reached the junction of her legs he pressed between, and she opened for him.
He leaned up on one elbow when he insinuated his fingers between her legs, working slowly past the hair that covered her innermost secrets. Perdita closed her eyes momentarily, and savoured the sensation of careful attention. When she heard his sigh, she opened her eyes to meet his, softened with desire and need. She smiled. He returned the smile. “If I do anything you don’t like, you must say so. I depend on your responses, Peri, to tell me when I’m right.”
“Do what you think is right,” she answered. “If I may do the same.”
“Anything,” he murmured, and bent to take her lips again, his fingers working their magic between her legs.
Warmth and deep relaxation suffused her, such as she’d never felt before. Never. Curling into him felt like she was coming home. Safety, care and passion awaited her in his arms.
Warmth turned to heat. Perdita tingled when he touched her, spreading quickly up to her stomach. She stretched, tensing against him, and his arm tightened around her shoulders, drawing her close. Pressing her lips to his shoulder, which was taut with tense muscle, Perdita became vaguely aware that his need was as great as hers, but she was too far gone to do anything except clutch him and lift her head for another kiss.
A devastating kiss. Deep, needy desirous. Melding them together. When she climaxed she cried out into his mouth, but he didn’t stop, working her so hard the sensitivity he evoked was almost too much. Almost. He removed his hand to stroke her from hip to breast, his mouth never leaving hers.
Her arms around him, Perdita pulled him to lie on top of her, his member hard between her legs. His movement was instinctive, sliding into the moisture he’d created, gliding ever closer.
She felt him tense and draw back. Bewildered at his withdrawal she opened her eyes, and saw apprehension. “I’m not sure we should do this. Are you certain?”
“Yes.” He was reminding her that virgin or no, she could still get pregnant if they made love. She smiled her reassurance. This time she was older and more independent. She would cope, if she had to.
She wanted this too much to draw back now.
Relief and joy combined in his beautiful smile. “Tell me if I hurt you. I don’t want to do that.”
His anxiety didn’t prevent him pressing forward. She arched up to receive him, her bottom tensing against the sheets.
He entered her slowly, so slowly she felt every ridge, her shape moulding to take him, soften around his body. “Dear Lord,” he whispered. “This is perfect.”
It was. Perdita reached up to hold his shoulders, the hard curves smooth against her hands, sliding her palms over his back, enjoying every curve, every ridge of bone, shaping the strong shoulder blades as he pushed into her. His sweat formed in beads under her hands.
Perdita knew what to do, although not from her previous experience. From instinct. She pushed her pelvis to meet his thrusts, her shoulders deep into the mattress and found his responses meeting hers. He still gazed at her, but the look of anxiety had gone, to be replaced by pure desire, and something deeper she didn’t recognise.
He pushed himself up on his arms, reaching deeply into her. Perdita let her arms slip down to his waist, gliding over his backside, curving and pulling him when he thrust.
The tingle began again, but this time inside her. He must have seen the change reflected in her eyes, for he grinned, and gasped, “Yes, yes, love, feel it, let it go, let it flow through you.”
She surrendered, closing her eyes to feel the sensations rolling through her body, the joy he brought to her. Arching her back she cried out, and this time he didn’t try to muffle her voice, but called out to her in return, his voice harsh with passion. “Oh, you feel so good, my love, my sweet!”
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