Page 5 of To Resist a Scandalous Rogue
Silence reigned for several minutes, and Finlay pondered why his questions produced such a response from her. Nothing about his mystery companion led him to believe she was anything other than confident and strong-willed.
She finally turned toward him, and he raised his brows in anticipation. “Tell me about your sister.”
He appreciated the change of topic. Discussing Alethea and her happy marriage was a subject he never tired of.
“She’s my twin, and her name is Alethea,” he began, a smile twisting his lips. “She’s younger by just three minutes, but you would think she’s my elder by thirty years.”
“How so?”
He shared anecdotes from their childhood. He spoke of Darington and the scrapes they’d often found themselves in. He told her of the scandal that destroyed Darington’s family and how Alethea and Darington had found love in spite of it.
When he pressed her, with words and with whisky, she told him about her childhood in London. She discussed her marriage, her travels, and how happy she’d been with her husband as he climbed the ranks of the East India Company.
She was witty and engaging but in a dry, sarcastic manner Finlay found irresistible. He couldn’t tell if she was responding to his flirting with flirtatious words of her own, because her every response was delivered with a cool intonation that left him puzzled.
He’d never enjoyed conversing with a woman more, aside from the banter he shared with Alethea. While the light was too dim to make out her features, her graceful profile and alluring scent were like a siren’s call, coaxing him closer.
And despite the amount of whisky he consumed, Finlay didn’t fail to notice the space between them on the bench had grown smaller and smaller as the night wore on.
After what seemed like hours, his stomach hurt from laughter. It felt good. He hadn’t had many reasons to laugh as of late. He’d considered his evening a loss, his trip to London a waste, when he’d walked out to the garden earlier. How wrong he’d been.
He opened his mouth to tell her so when she stood, swaying on her feet and reaching out an arm for balance. He grasped her hand, standing to steady her with a touch to the waist. They each froze, as if they’d suddenly been dipped in an icy pond. But it wasn’t the cold that made him pause… It was the red-hot jolt of attraction that pulsed between them.
“It appears that whisky was better than I gave it credit for,” she whispered, her breath tickling against his neck.
“Told you so.” He was slightly alarmed to recognize the teasing note in his voice had darkened to something infinitely more dangerous.
She nodded rapidly, throwing herself off balance. She braced herself against his chest. After a long moment thrumming with awareness, she removed it, letting it fall to her side. But she didn’t step back.
Finlay brushed a curl off her cheek, the liquor making him bold. “I want to kiss you.”
“I know.” He wished he could see her face when she whispered, “I want you to kiss me, too.”
A shudder shook him. How could a man ignore such an offering? He brought his mouth down on hers.
Even in his cups, Finlay reveled in the sweet, honey taste of her mouth tinged with the bite of whisky. The sensation of her plush lips opening to admit the stroke of his tongue sent waves of fire through his body. His hand drifted down her arm, his touch tentative lest she pull away.
But she didn’t. Suppressing a moan of satisfaction, he wrapped his arms around her small waist and pulled her flush with his body. He sighed into her mouth when her curves molded to his hardness.
“Come to my room with me,” he murmured against her lips.
He expected her to break free and leave. His offer would surely frighten her away, and the thought brought him up short.
He could admit he liked her. That he wanted to spend more time with her.
She looked up at him. “I don’t even know your name.”
“How rude of me,” he said, offering her a conciliatory smile he wasn’t certain she could see. “I’m Finlay.”
Why he provided her with his Christian name and nothing else, he knew not. But he suspected she would approve.
And she clearly did. “Finlay. It suits you.” She swallowed audibly. “I’m Charlotte.”
“A beautiful name.” He nuzzled her ear. “Will you come upstairs with me, Charlotte?”
A long pause ensued, and he didn’t realize he held his breath until she nodded. Without another word, he laced his fingers with hers and escorted her inside Belling House.
Chapter Two
