Page 14 of My Hellion, My Heart
The warmth spread to her chest, pooling low in her belly, between her hips, making her feel like everything within was molten. Irina’s breath shortened, and she licked her dry lips. The earl’s eyes followed the movement. Desire darkened them, and a telltale muscle flexed in his cheek as his gaze shifted into something feral. It should have made her want to flee. Instead it made her want to throw herself forward and demand to be claimed.
Twisting slightly, Irina reached up to stroke his jaw, feeling the scrape of stubble as his skin there leaped reflexively at her touch. “Henry—”
He froze, his eyes boring into hers, and then pushed off the rail as if it were made of flame instead of stone. Shutters descended over his eyes within seconds, the leaping muscle in his cheek going unnaturally still. It was as if a light had been extinguished inside of him. Irina was shocked by the swift and brutal transformation.
“I won’t be in Essex for quite some time,” he said in a clipped, polite voice.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, frowning and advancing toward him. “You felt something between us, I know you did.”
“I’m not debauched enough to take advantage of a naive debutante.”
Naive?She wasnotthat. And she was not blind, either. Twice now he’d devoured her with his eyes. He’d responded to her suggestive sip of his whiskey glass last week the same way he’d responded to her closeness just now. It was dangerous, the way he’d looked at her. It was anything but gentle—orgentlemanly. Why wouldn’t he admit that she affected him?
With a frustrated breath, she pushed up onto her toes and pressed her mouth to his. Heat licked across her skin at the feel of his smooth male lips, and thunder rushed in her ears for an infinitesimal moment. But then firm hands pushed down on her shoulders, separating them.
The earl’s countenance was unmoved, his eyes like chips of golden quartz. “You have proven my point,” he said softly. “Allow me to escort you back inside, Your Highness.”
Heat flooded her whole body, rushing from her cheeks to her neck and back, then coursing along her arms. Even her scalp burned. Suffocating in humiliation, Irina swallowed past the aching lump in her throat and nodded mutely.Oh dear God.What had she done? She’d made a complete cake of herself, that’s what. All because she’d thought…she’d beencertainthat he felt something, too.
The earl could have been a wooden soldier for the silent and brisk half dozen steps he took before depositing her back to where Lady Langlevit was sitting. After a short, polite bow, he walked away without a backward glance. It was at that moment Irina realized she’d been fooling herself by holding on to such desperate, ridiculous childhood fantasies. The Earl of Langlevit was not the same man she’d remembered…the same man she’d held in such high esteem…the man she’d adored.
No, there was nothing left of the Henry she’d known.
She’d been in love with a ghost.
Chapter Five
Henry had never been so affected by a virginal kiss in his life.
Days later, despite seeing her at two other crushes and keeping his distance, it still haunted his every waking moment.Shehaunted him. Nights were the worst, when that slight peck morphed into something far more carnal. He was sinking to new lows, his fevered imaginings conjuring up images of Irina, naked, with those endlessly long legs of hers wrapped around him. Twice now he’d woken up on the brink of spending himself like some adolescent, untried buck.
“Preoccupied, Langlevit?” Lord Northridge commented from the opposite end of the table with a laugh. “That’s another loss for you. Either I’m on a lucky streak or you’ve lost your ability to bluff.”
“North,” Henry said, emerging from the fog that had been consuming him. “I didn’t see you sit down. When did you arrive?”
“Three hands ago.”
The men around them chuckled. Henry hadn’t been paying attention, instead using the game as a means to pass the time and not think about anything. Especially her. He’d failed at the latter, obviously, if he’d lost three rounds without knowing. “How is Lady Northridge?” Henry frowned. “Surprised to see you here. I’d heard she’d returned to Essex.”
“She has, and she is as well as can be expected, thank you for asking,” North said. “I’m here on official business.”
His frown deepened. “Is there a meeting at the House of Lords?”
North shook his head. “It seems my son forgot his favorite toy at Bishop House, which of course warranted my immediate return. Nothing like a half day of hard riding for no purpose at all.”
Despite his disparaging tone, Henry couldn’t help noticing the man’s doting expression. It was clear he thought the world of his son and his family. It wasn’t long ago when Henry had wanted to skewer Northridge for taking advantage of Princess Svetlanka, who had been hiding from her uncle by posing as a lady’s maid in Northridge’s household. But in the end, it had turned out to be a love match. Henry was happy for Lana. She deserved happiness after what she’d endured.
So did Irina.
Henry was well aware that this was her third season. She should have been whisked off the marriage mart within weeks. Hell, even days. Like her sister, the young princess was beautiful, wealthy, and titled. A prize amongst thetonand Russian royalty. Certainly, she was also stubborn and opinionated, but that wouldn’t stop any man from wanting her.
After some quiet investigation last week, Henry had been stunned to find out how many gentlemen had offered for her. The number had surprised him, as had her flimsy reasons for rejecting them all. As such, she’d acquired uncharitable nicknames like Ice Queen, Iceberg, and Lady Frost.
He’d wanted to laugh. Irina was the furthest thing from frosty. Passion had fairly crackled off her on that balcony. Her bold boast offering to demonstrate her skill in Essex had nearly made him press her into the shadows of that alcove at Hadley Gardens. Hearing the word “sex” uttered from those luscious lips, even as part of the word “Essex” had nearly unmanned him. It was only by sheer force of will that he’d been able to resist the inexperienced graze of her mouth on his. No, icy was the last word he’d use to describe her. Irina Volkonsky was pure, uninhibited flame. Fiery and dangerous.
“Good man!” someone shouted nearby, making both Henry and North glance up from their cards. Lord Bainley strutted into view, looking like an effervescent peacock, and was surrounded by a group of young men thumping him enthusiastically on the back.
“Well done!” another said.
