Page 30 of My Rogue, My Ruin
He lowered his lips to hers. It wasn’t swift like the first kiss, meant to silence. This one was meant to coax, to seduce. The touch was featherlight, skimming her mouth in leisurely strokes until a soft sigh escaped her lips. As if shocked at her own response, she pressed them shut again. Archer nearly smiled at her sheer obstinacy.
“Kiss me back, Briannon,” he murmured against her. “Open for me.”
His tongue darted hotly between the seam of her lips, and she gasped. Archer didn’t hesitate. He swept into the sweetness of her mouth, exploring the soft interior, until her hands slid up to his throat in an unconscious movement, looping around his neck. The timid acquiescence ignited something deep inside him. Groaning, Archer crushed her to him, flattening her breasts against his chest as he claimed her lips.
He teased her, drawing her tongue into his mouth until she leaned in to him, helpless with the same shaking need that overtook him. An eternity later, he drew away. With a ragged breath, he pressed his forehead to hers. Heaven help him, he couldn’t stop touching her. His fingers stroked her cheek, his thumb running across her swollen lips.
Briannon’s eyes fluttered shut as his fingers slid lower, down the taut column of her neck to the strand of rubies lying on the swell of those alluring breasts. Her lips parted on a sigh, and he kissed them again, his tongue plunging deep as his thumb slid past the fragile lace edging of her bodice. He expected her to pull away, but she arched against him, moaning into his mouth as the pad of his thumb grazed her nipple. The sensitive skin tightened under his touch, and his groin did the same under a deluge of instant, mind-numbing lust. Archer pulled away, rattled at his own response. He was no greenhorn still wet behind the ears, and yet, one kiss, one small exploration of her breast, had made him feel like a wild and blundering buck.
But hell, he wanted more than this kiss. He wanted to rip open that silk bodice and settle his mouth on the luscious, swollen tips of her breasts. He wanted to torment her with his tongue and teeth and fingers, and hear her whimper with the same lust that tore through him. But he had risked discovery long enough, and putting Lady Briannon’s unimpeachable reputation into question would not be wise.
As the moments passed, Briannon remained silent and immobile against him. Although she was flushed, her eyes, so transparent before, were now unreadable. He frowned.
“Briannon?”
“Have you finished?” Her cold tone was at odds with the remnants of passion still flickering across her face. “Please release me and let me pass. I’d like to rejoin my brother.”
Surprised, he did as she asked and stepped away. She held herself ramrod straight and swept past him to the double doors. She paused long enough to throw a backward glance over her shoulder.
For a moment, he thought she was going to ask him to join her, but her voice was low, vibrating with hostility. “If you ever try something like that again, it won’t be my brother calling you out. It will be me, Lord Hawksfield, that I promise you.”
As the door slammed shut behind her, Archer nearly laughed at her threat. Then he remembered her skill with the boar and sobered. Lady Briannon would make a formidable enemy.She’d also make a formidable lover.He returned to the ballroom and took up residence against a nearby pillar, watching as she danced with another young man, refusing so much as to glance his way.
Archer fought the urge to smile. She hadn’t run from the ball, or from him, like a frightened fox. She had courage and defiance in spades, choosing to stay and showing him exactly how little his insults and his unwelcome advances had meant to her. Though he continued to question just how unwelcome his kisses had been. She had responded the way he’d wanted, if only for a few scattered heartbeats.
Their eyes met for a scant moment, and he nodded to her. Deep color suffused her cheeks. She was certainly not as unaffected as she was pretending to be. She stared him down across the crowd of dancers, her eyes still sparking with ire. Despite the rumors of her poor health, she showed no indication of weakness at the moment. No, he realized with an odd sense of pride, she held her own, staring him down as if a battlefield yawned between them instead of a ballroom floor. Archer lifted his glass in a silent toast, and she turned her back on him.
Deprived of her company, the evening wore on at a snail’s pace. He sipped his third glass of whiskey and noticed Eloise having a wonderful time. It warmed him to see her taking to the floor dance after dance. At one point, their father stood beside her, but she could have been a veritable stranger for all the attention the duke gave her. Beneath the mask, Archer saw the burning snap of her eyes on their father before she’d turned and stalked away. The duke’s indifference was still hurtful to her, even after all these years.
He made his way across the crowded ballroom, deftly avoiding as many matchmaking mothers and simpering debutantes as he could, and joined Eloise at the refreshment table. She sipped a glass of punch as a passing footman replaced Archer’s empty glass of whiskey with a full one.
“Enjoying yourself?” he asked her.
“Oh yes.” Her color was high, and she fairly glowed in the unusually exotic burgundy satin dress she had chosen to wear. Despite her ravaged face hidden beneath the feathered mask, her blond hair cascaded in luxurious curls down her back. Her maid had done an exceptional job tonight, and Archer told her so. Eloise blushed. “You look rather dashing yourself. Did you enjoy your dance with Lady Briannon? She has grown into a lovely young lady, has she not?”
Considering the phantom press of Briannon’s mouth was still prickling at his lips, he figured an indirect reply was a safer route to take.
“You are not much older than she. And speaking of dances, I don’t see you wanting for partners, either.”
“By society’s standards, my dear brother, I am an old maid, and she is just making her bow.” She eyed him, smiling. “And stop trying to change the subject. Do you find her beautiful or charming? She would make you a good wife.”
He lowered his chin in effort to stave off his sister’s barrage of questions. “I am not looking for a wife.”
Eloise laughed. “Tell that to all the mothers currently planning your wedding at this very moment. Take that one over there,” she said, nodding to a matronly woman with two daughters at her sides, neither of whom appeared older than fifteen. Archer scowled. “She has scarcely stopped looking at you since you disappeared onto the balcony with Lady Briannon. If looks could kill when you both returned, the young lady would have met a sad demise indeed.”
“The lady should tend to her own business,” Archer said, sending a fierce scowl in the direction of the offending mother. “And we did not disappear. Lady Briannon simply needed some air.”
“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Eloise teased. Archer did not respond, and she threw him a knowing smile. “I can see from your response that you are not as immune to the lady’s charms as you pretend to be. I am sure Lady Dinsmore would be more than ecstatic to have you as a son-in-law. Come now, admit it: Briannon is comely, she is well-bred, and she is heiress to a fortune that most men would die for.”
“Then you marry her.”
Eloise laughed out loud, and the sound made a smile crack Archer’s face in response. “You do say the strangest things. I am not the son of a duke.”
“You are the daughter of a duke.”
“We both know I am nothing of the sort,” she said, a thread of bitterness creeping through. “It will likely kill our father to ever acknowledge me publicly.” She shrugged and turned her face away as she tucked her arm in his. Her voice grew strained. “But as long as I have you, nothing else matters. You are my family.”
Archer patted her arm, his mouth tight. He said nothing for a moment and then decided to change the subject. Despite her nonchalance, he knew the topic of her status was distressing to her. “Speaking of matrimony, I think Lord Suffield and the Earl of Langlevit are quite taken with you. They have each danced with you a number of times now.”
