Page 7 of Loving a Beast of a Marquess
“Before, you had not attempted to take me down a peg or two.”
“If you’re asking me to apologize—”
“You’re getting carried away. I am not a man of much, but I am a man of my word, and I promised you no consequences.”
Evangeline had not expected herself to be relieved, but his assurance eased some of the tension in her shoulders.
“The truth is,” he said with a sigh, “although theton’sopinions of me are based on rumor, I am not… I have done things in my past I am ashamed of.”
“It is never too late to seek redemption,” she ventured. He did not precisely seem in need of comfort—not in the usual way—and yet she felt him to be a kindred spirit. A lost soul looking for a place to land. “Apologize to those you have offended. Ask for help where it is needed. There is nothing wrong with asking for help.”
“Ask for help,” he said as though he were tasting the words in his mouth. “An alien concept, I assure you.”
A smile tugged at Evangeline’s mouth. She understood—her family had never asked for help. Even now, when they were reeling from her father’s death and its implications, they did their best to conceal all knowledge of it from the world. “I understand the feeling,” she said, “but it is my advice to you, nevertheless.”
“You are very wise.” He stood, swaying slightly. Clearly, his assurance that he was altogether too drunk to rise had been a lie. “Tell me, little mouse, are you often in the habit of giving advice to strange gentlemen in the dark?”
Evangeline stiffened. There was something different about him now and the way his attention honed in on her. “Not especially,” she said, shrinking back against the wall. The rough stones bit into her back. “Ought I be scared of you?”
“Scared?” He laughed and to her shock, stumbled closer, reaching for her hands. At odds with the clumsiness of her movements, his grasp was gentle. “There is nothing to be scared of. You’ve given me hope.”
“I’m very glad for that, but—”
“But I have advice for you,” he said, cutting her off. He pressed even closer, his leg between hers, pinning her against the wall. “I would recommend to you not to linger alone in the dark with drunken strangers.”
Evangeline’s heart pounded, sending fear and exhilaration through her body. She could see his eyes now, dark and hooded, an expression in them she didn’t understand but that thrilled her nonetheless. His body was altogether too close, yet every brush of his knee against her leg made her body awaken in a way she’d never experienced before.
And he was going to kiss her. She wasn’t entirely sure how she knew this. She’d kissed a boy once when she was fifteen. He was the son of a local baron, and she made a habit of sneaking out meeting him on the estate. They walked and talked, and once he held her shoulders, thumbs pressing in painfully, and kissed her. It had been wet and sloppy and effectively put an end to her burgeoning feelings.
This strange man did not grip her shoulders. In fact, she was fairly certain that if she wanted, she could tell him to stop, and he would. Moreover, despite that knee nudging her inner thigh, there was still space for her to escape.
Yet she did not move.
“You know,” he said, almost conversationally, even as one hand skimmed up her arm in a shiver of feeling, “I have the distinct impression you’re extremely pretty.”
“You’re very drunk,” she countered.
“Touché.” His fingers traced the line of her jaw. “I likely should not be doing this, but you have captivated me, little mouse.”
When he leaned in to kiss her, she didn’t pull away. And when his lips met hers, it was so radically different from her last kiss that she did nothing to stop it. In fact, as the hand on her jaw cupped her cheek in a wholly unexpected display of tenderness, she found herself reaching for the lapels of his coat and holding him in place as though she could elongate this moment.
Colin Hughville had not been her first kiss.Thiswas her first kiss.
As though he sensed that she was not entirely against the idea of the kiss continuing, the man tilted his head and opened his mouth. His other hand found her waist and pressed her more firmly against him. His lips were warm and firm, and his tongue brushed hers—at first gently, but when the sensation swept heat through her body and she gasped—very quietly—he did it again, this time teasing her tongue with his. It was slick and hot, and he tasted a little of brandy. Although she could not pinpoint why this action made her stomach clench with anticipation or an ache sink down low between her legs, she found herself craving more.
Drunk he may be, but his hands didn’t shake against her face when they tucked her hair behind her ear, and he felt perfectly steady now when he was pressing her into the wall. In fact, there was nothing but the taste of brandy on his tongue that indicated he was in any way inebriated.
Evangeline wasn’t precisely sure what came over her—madness, perhaps—when she arched her back so her hips were more firmly pressed against his. All she knew was there was a craving in her that this man could satisfy, and with the darkness obscuring them from even each other, there could be no reason to stop. She didn’twantto stop. She wanted to pursue this until its final, fatal conclusion. He had promised there would be no consequences.
The man groaned into her mouth, the sound sending another spike of heat through her, and something twitched against her stomach. And she wanted, she wanted, shewanted—
Evangeline came to her senses rather abruptly. It may have been the approaching voices, laughing and carefree and in no way prepared for what they would find at the end of the garden. It might have been the way the man’s hand slid down toward her buttocks, fingers greedily exploring her curves. Or it might have been the low curse he gave when he, too, heard the approaching onlookers. Regardless of the cause, she broke away and shoved his chest.
Surprisingly, he moved back almost immediately. “Be quiet, little mouse, and they shall not discover us,” he whispered.
Evangeline had no intention of remaining in this place with the man. He had promised no consequences, but she doubted he could keep that promise if they were discovered. All at once, shame flooded her body, chasing away the last of her desire. She, Evangeline Pevton, who was perhaps not the most pious of girls but was certainly notsinful, had just kissed a strange man in the dark at a ball.
“Do not remember me,” she hissed as she gathered her skirts and slipped past him. Her shoes were almost soundless on the grass, and she saw enough of the house to be able to navigate the pathway with little trouble. The approaching voices faded, and she gave a sigh of relief. She’d made it. They would not be discovered.
