“And why is that?” she asked. She could not help feeling slightly insulted by his remark.
“Because you are a virtuous young lady, one that a gentleman would hope to marry.”
Now she was surprised. “That’s not your type?”
“Decidedly not. I do have some standards. I prefer to dally with more experienced women who are not interested in marriage.”
She dared a direct glance at him. “But you wanted to kiss me that day in the bookshop.”
He held her gaze, but did not respond.
She would not let him off that easily. She knew she had not imagined what she had felt between them that afternoon. “You did want to kiss me, though, didn’t you?”
He lowered his eyes. “Yes, I did.”
His admission thrilled her. “But you didn’t.”
“Why? Did you want me to?” he asked, gazing directly at her.
His question turned her stomach upside down and she suddenly couldn’t think. “Perhaps…”
He grinned wolfishly at her, a grin that lit his eyes from within and caused her stomach to somersault again. “Did I disappoint you?” he whispered, his voice as smooth as velvet.
“I’m…I’m n-not sure,” she stammered, finding it difficult to breathe normally, lost in the look of his eyes, which glittered hypnotically in the moonlight. A thrill ran through her, as if something special were about to happen.
“I would hate to ever disappoint you, Miss Hamilton…”
He leaned in nearer to her, his face so close to hers she suddenly could not breathe at all. He waited there, hovering. His eyes searched hers. He smelled clean and so very masculine and infinitely appealing. She could see the faint stubble along his chin and wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers across it. His nearness unnerved her and left her trembling, while her stomach felt as if it had just plummeted to her toes. Unable to bear the intensity any longer, she closed her eyes.
“Look at me,” he demanded in a hushed whisper, his hand cupping the back of her neck in a gentle movement.
Her heart pounded wildly in anticipation as her lids fluttered back open. She took a shaky breath. His green eyes pinned her in place as his lips touched hers lightly, teasingly. He kissed her as if she were the most delicate, the most fragile of crystal. His touch was soft, featherlike. His mouth was warm, his lips smooth. The hand on the back of her neck pulled her closer, his fingers caressing the sensitive skin there, sending shivers down her spine. The feel was so exquisite she thought she would faint.
“Colette,” he breathed her name into her mouth and suddenly his lips became more insistent, more demanding. They possessed her, seared her in a kiss so all-consuming she could not breathe.
She closed her eyes in spite of what he said and lost herself completely in the sensation of his mouth covering hers.
His mouth became possessive, virtually ravenous over hers. She felt devoured. To her own surprise, her lips parted, instinctively responding to his. His tongue entered her mouth. Shocked and thrilled by the sensation, her heart raced. Heated and slick, his tongue swirled with her own inside of her mouth. Good heavens! Was this what made women swoon in the gothic novels she had read? And that was her last rational thought as his kiss overwhelmed her with its blatant intimacy and intensity. He was strength and gentleness combined, and she could not get enough of him. A hunger grew within her as they kissed. Never had she felt something so completely and utterly satisfying, yet it left her yearning for more, desperate for more. She didn’t want it to end.
Lucien’s mouth on hers wasn’t enough.
When did she place her hands on his shoulders? His quite broad and firm shoulders. What possessed me to do such a thing? And when did his other hand find its way around her waist?
And still they kissed.
And kissed.
She could no longer hear the music from the ballroom, nor the chirping of the crickets, nor the usual noises of the cool evening around them. Only the rapid thumping of her heart and the sound of their breathing echoed in her ears.
Then he pulled her closer, and she clung to him with no resistance whatsoever. She found herself sitting across his lap, a position that was at once so intimate and possessive. It was as if she had been designed to fit perfectly there, with his arms around her, holding her securely against his chest. The feel of his muscled thighs beneath her left her light-headed. It seemed they could not get close enough to each other. They melted into each other, as if they were the only two people in the world and where they were did not matter. Time seemed to disappear.
And still they kissed.
His hands cupped her face, his fingers threaded through her hair, loosening it from its upswept style. Lucien’s touch made her feel cherished and adored. Colette had never experienced anything like it. She had never been kissed before, but she knew, just knew, she would never be kissed like this again. This was wild, reckless, and passionate. She had read about passion, of course. But now she was fast learning what the word truly meant.
She was kissing and being kissed passionately.
By a man who held her on his lap. By a man who touched her with infinite tenderness and unmistakable desire. By a man who…
Abruptly, he turned his head away from hers, and she collapsed into the crook of his neck. They both panted heavily, and he stroked her hair. For a long while they did not speak, but simply tried to regain their breath.
His voice was ragged when he finally spoke. “I’m sorry, Colette.”
She knew why he was apologizing; yet she still wished he had not done so. The apology made their kiss seem wrong, and his mouth on hers felt more right than anything she had ever known. Reluctantly she lifted her head, feeling very groggy, as if she had just awakened from a most delicious dream. Her lips felt heavy and swollen and the thought of leaving his embrace made her want to cry.
They stared at each other, and she tried to read his unfathomable green eyes. Did he regret kissing her? Did he think she was angry? God, but he is stunningly handsome. Lightly, she touched his face with her fingers, tracing the strong cheekbones and the masculine line of Lucien’s jaw. Lucien. For of course, she could not think of him as anything but Lucien now.
Lucien. Lucien. Lucien.
“Colette?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she whispered when she was capable of speaking coherently again. “Is kissing always like that?”
“No. No, it’s not.” His husky words thrilled her. He took her hand in his large one and pressed a sweet kiss to her palm, and then he gently closed her fingers, as if saving the kiss for her.
Her heart fluttered wildly at the tender gesture.
“Which is why this cannot happen again between us.”
Then she could only nod in agreement with him as she slowly came back to her senses. It certainly could not happen again. What was she thinking? Kissing the man in full view of whoever happened to be walking through the garden! She had just behaved more scandalously than Juliette had ever done! No, this could never happen again!
What had come over her?
Gently Lucien slipped her off his lap and onto her feet, which were none too steady at that point. Suddenly flooded with embarrassment, she could not look at him.
“We must get you back to the house unseen. You should enter first and I’ll stay outside a while longer.”
Her hands went intuitively to her hair; she knew it must look a fright. Everyone would know just by looking at her what she had been doing. Kissing the Earl of Waverly in a moonlit garden while she sat in his lap! She had behaved disgracefully, yet oddly enough, she did not regret one minute of it.
As she attempted to put her hair to rights, Lucien leaned over and kissed her cheek. The kiss was soft and gentle, and sent another thrill through Colette’s body.
“You are a beautiful woman, Colette. You can have any man you want, and so you must promise me that you won’t allow your uncle to force you to se
ttle for any man you don’t wish to marry.”
She stared at him, feeling confused by the deep emotions Lucien stirred within her heart. “I promise,” she whispered before turning and making her way along the brick pathway back to the house.
Her heart pounding, Colette gulped deep, filling her lungs with air to calm herself. The comparative glare and the noise from the ballroom made her want to hide her face, which she knew had to be flaming scarlet. She inhaled another long breath and pressed her hands to her heated cheeks, suppressing the urge to look back in the garden. Would Lucien be standing there, watching her? How long would he wait before returning to the ball? Torn between wanting to run back to his side and never wanting to face him again, she ventured hesitantly into the ballroom, wishing she could hide somewhere quiet and relive what had just happened to her.
Juliette found her first.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Where have you been?” her sister demanded.
“For a walk in the garden.”
“Alone?” Juliette’s sharp eyes missed nothing.
“No,” Colette attempted to explain. “The repulsive Baron Sheffield dragged me out to the garden with him and then had the nerve to try to kiss me!”
“He did no such thing!” she exclaimed in shock.
“Unfortunately, he did.” She recoiled at the memory of the baron’s mouth on hers.
“Oh, Colette!” She laughed nervously, her expression aghast. Juliette grabbed her hand in comfort. “How perfectly awful! What did you do?”
“I kicked him.” Colette described the events in a whisper as the two of them hid behind a marble column. “He was not very happy with me, quite angry really, and stalked away. By now I’m certain he has told Uncle Randall that I am an utter hoyden.”
“Well, at least you won’t have to bear his company again.”
“No. But I’ve no doubt Uncle Randall will find someone equally detestable to court me.”
“Are you sure that is all that happened to you?” Juliette questioned.
Colette flushed, unsure why she did not want to tell Juliette that she had just kissed Lucien Sinclair passionately. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m not sure. You just have a look about you, excited or happy. You look different somehow.”
“I suppose I’m still just upset about Baron Sheffield.” She shifted the topic. “What have you been doing while I was gone?”
Juliette’s expression was not one of total belief, but she obviously had something she wanted to share with her.
“I’ve been disappointing Uncle Randall also. He found me playing cards with Lord Eddington in the drawing room and he just about had an apoplectic fit! Aunt Cecilia wants to take us home immediately.”
Colette shook her head in despair. It would be a miracle if either of them were to come out of this Season with their reputations intact, let alone with husbands.
Chapter Seven
A Male Point of View
A few days later Colette continued to work in the bookshop as evening approached. The books had now all been placed neatly on the shelves, and the signs that Paulette had painted hung from the ceiling held with dark green ribbon. Also, a new sign with “Hamilton’s Book Shoppe” printed in elegant writing hung above the counter. The major changes were now completed. Colette stepped back to admire the place and felt an incredible sense of accomplishment at her progress. The store looked completely different from when her father was alive. A few months ago she had only her ideas. Now the shop was generating much talk in the neighborhood, and people were coming in to take a look for themselves at what the Hamilton girls had done to their father’s shop. They had marveled at the changes and congratulated her.
And, most importantly, they bought books. Her sales had doubled from the month before. Which was still a pitiful amount, but better than nothing. Business was picking up slowly but surely.
Colette arranged a few wooden chairs in a circle as the tinkling of the bells above the door caught her attention.
A thin woman, about thirty, wearing a neat gray bonnet and dress, asked shyly, “Hello. I hope I am not too late. This is when the reading group meets, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is,” Colette responded with an encouraging smile. Just the day before Colette met the woman, who worked as a governess for a family in Mayfair, and had encouraged her to attend. “Please come in and have a seat, Miss Rutan. I’m so happy you decided to join us.”
The woman nodded and situated herself on one of the chairs that Colette had just arranged. “This is so exciting!” Miss Rutan exclaimed. “I’ve never been part of a reading group before! Thank you for inviting me.”
“You’re quite welcome.”
The door to their quarters upstairs opened and Paulette and Lisette entered the bookshop. Lisette carried a tray with a blue flower–patterned china teapot, creamer, and sugar bowl, and Paulette followed with another tray filled with matching cups and saucers and a plate of cookies.
“We’ve brought some refreshments,” Lisette declared as she efficiently set up a serving area on a table covered with a pretty chintz cloth. “Would you like some tea?” she offered their first guest.
The bells jingled again and Colette greeted two more women, who also took seats in the circle. The taller of the two, Miss Benson, wore a bright yellow scarf around her neck and spectacles, while the shorter one, Mrs. Cornell, clutched a book tightly to her chest.
The Ladies’ Reading Circle had been Colette’s idea, too, knowing that the women would have to buy the books in order to join the group. Paulette had made a sign advertising that Hamilton’s would hold a monthly book discussion group for women. Their first book was Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. A little dark, perhaps, but it was daring and much talked about. And Colette thought it important that they begin with a female author. She had hoped for a larger group, but three women, along with her sisters, was at least enough to start.
The three ladies, Colette, Lisette, Paulette, and a most reluctant Juliette had just begun their discussion of the work when the bells above the door signaled another entrance. Colette turned her head to see Lord Jeffrey Eddington enter the bookshop. He held a copy of Frankenstein in one hand and a small bouquet of flowers in the other. He was grinning mischievously from ear to ear.
“Good evening, ladies,” he said grandly. “Would you mind if I joined you?”
Stunned speechless, Colette stared at him in confusion. Juliette suddenly developed a case of the giggles and laughed surreptitiously into her hand, which was held tightly over her mouth. Paulette and Lisette looked as stunned as the other ladies did.
“Lord Eddington, what on earth are you doing here?” Colette finally managed to ask, after he breezily swept into the room, placed the flowers—a lovely assortment of hyacinth and lily of the valley—on the table, and seated himself upon an empty chair, looking extremely comfortable. He acted as if this were the most ordinary of occurrences, when as far as she knew he had never set foot in Hamilton’s before. Or any bookshop, for that matter!
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m here to discuss Frankenstein. It’s one of my favorites.” He smiled winningly around the group.
“But, Lord Eddington, this is a women’s discussion group,” Colette explained, wondering why he had suddenly appeared in the bookshop. Judging from the highly satisfied look on Juliette’s face, she must have had something to do with this.
“Yes, I know that, but I thought you might benefit from a male point of view. You don’t mind if I participate, do you, ladies?” He asked so charmingly; Colette watched as each woman, including Paulette, nodded in acquiescence. It was impossible for the man to be denied.
“It would be interesting to have a man’s opinion,” Mrs. Cornell volunteered.
The sight of the matronly Mrs. Cornell batting her eyes at Jeffrey amused Colette. “Juliette?” she questioned her sister with a single word.
“I may have mentioned to Lord Eddington in passing that we were meeting here this evenin
g,” she said, still attempting to suppress the laughter that bubbled within her.
With a serious expression on his handsome face, Lord Eddington questioned the group, assured of his acceptance with the women. “Did you know that Mary Shelley was only nineteen when she wrote this novel?”
Without missing a beat, Paulette jumped right into the discussion. “Yes, and her parents were revolutionaries. That must have had a strong influence on her writing, don’t you agree?”
As the conversation swirled around her, Colette sat back against her chair, helpless to keep Lord Eddington from participating. This was not how she imagined her first book discussion group. She tried to keep up with the dialogue but was disconcerted by Lord Eddington’s strong presence. She never would have suspected him of participating in such a way. What was he doing there? Did he really have feelings for Juliette? Or, even more incredibly, me?
Of course that thought led her thoughts to Lucien Sinclair.
As much as she tried to block that night from her memory, she had not been able to think of anything but their world-altering and seductively sensual kiss. The feel of Lucien’s lips on hers, the caress of his strong hand at her waist, the huskiness of his voice when he whispered her name. And how she had not wanted it to end.
Oh, she was not completely ignorant of the ways of men and women. Years ago she and Juliette had secretly read one of the thick medical textbooks she had found on a dusty shelf in the shop. A Complete Study of the Human Anatomy and All Its Functions by Doctor T. Everett even had pencil sketches to accompany its explanation of sexual intercourse. The two of them had been shocked, appalled, and fascinated by the information the book contained, which really created more questions for them than it answered.
Now Colette had stunned herself with the realization that she might actually want to do what came next.
With Lucien Sinclair.
She wanted to feel his strong male body against hers. And heaven help her, had he taken further liberties with her that evening in the garden, she doubted if she would have had the resolve to stop him. And if she were truly honest with herself, she knew she would have willingly done anything he wanted.
When His Kiss Is Wicked Page 8