Page 4 of In Search of a Husband
She had only kissed Tommy Cormac behind a curtain at a ball lastspring. And that had been a generous press of her lips against his before she rushed out and fetched lemonade with her friends.
This kiss. This kiss slowly took her apart, piece by piece until she was not sure if she was standing or if she was outside on a cold March day.
“You taste delicious,” he whispered against her ear, slipping his fingers beneath the fabric of her dress to expose the curve of her left shoulder. “And your skin is so soft.”
She closed her eyes and melted against the wall, offering herself up to him with abandon. It was reckless, and yet she couldn’t get herself to care at the moment when it felt so good.
His lips trailed up her neck, and he sucked at the indent beneath her jaw and ear. It was the most wicked kiss of all.
“Hugh, please.”
He didn’t pause, instead tugging her dress down lower. His hands quickly covered her skin, greedy and hungry to explore it all.
In the back of her mind, she knew they must stop, even if she didn’t wish to. And the cold was beginning to set in, and her toes were freezing. And yet she nipped at his earlobe and slipped her hands behind his back to pull him closer, unsure of the end this madness would come to, but forging ahead nevertheless.
“Kiss me again,” she said, staring up at the grand Mayfair house of the Cranbournes.
“I wish to do more than kiss you.” He moved his mouth off hers quickly, then ducked down, kissing her neck and forcing her to look upward at the night sky as his face sank lower. His mouth pressed against her rounded breasts, almost spilling out of her stays. “Allow me to take you home this evening. Come sneak away with me. What an adventure it can be to be wicked.”
He finally pulled the sleeves of her dress down full, and she gasped at the cold air licking her skin. A warm room would be better, as desire pulsed between her legs.
“I love that sound, Princess. Do it again for me.”
The marquess hauled her up against the wall, pinning her hips with his. She felt his erection through his magnificent buckskins. Thefeel of it against her made her lose what little control she had left as he continued to tug on her dress until her bodice was pulled down, somehow managing to free her breast.
“How did you…?” She was certain she was about to finish that question before he dipped down and took her nipple in his mouth and lightly sucked. She moaned his name, bucking her hips against his. He touched her as if he wanted to know every part of her, and she was willing. So very willing.
“You damn scoundrel,” a voice growled by the shadows. “Step away from her now.”
The marquess stopped and sucked in a deep breath, releasing Kate to the ground. She was hit with a jolt, her pulse drumming in her ears. She reached for him, desperate to have him close, to have him help. Instead, he stepped away, leaving her exposed.
She cursed, spinning around to right herself. She couldn’t manage the dress without help, and the marquess continued to walk away. She was about to interject before she heard the sickening crunch of flesh. Kate peeked over her shoulder as the marquess and Lord Cranbourne tussled, throwing punches.
“Stop!” she yelled. She managed her dress and then made sure she was covered with a shawl before she reached over and tried to separate the two grown men.
“You’re going to marry her,” Lord Cranbourne growled. The balding older man glowered under thick, bushy brows. “The both of you, in my study, now.”
“Of course, we’re going to be married,” she said.
But the marquess lagged behind, scratching his jaw.
“You’re going to damn well marry her,” Lord Cranbourne shouted, pointing his finger at the marquess. The candlelight sparked off the black signet ring on his pinky. “I will not allow a blackguard like you to ruin a woman at my home without you doing the honorable thing. I will not allow it.”
“We’re engaged,” she said, pleading to Lord Cranbourne. “We have an understanding.”
The marquess stood, not saying a word. Instead, his shoulders rose and fell as he caught his breath.
“He has no intention of marrying you, Miss Bancroft.”
She ran up to the marquess, grabbing for his hand, yet he pulled away, disgusted. “Say something! Tell him what you promised me.”
“His promises mean nothing, Miss Bancroft. Which is precisely why he already has three bastard children, and why, at the very least, he’s interested in securing your family support.”
Wait, what? Her palms were sweaty and her mouth dry, and she was certain she had been having the best night until they were interrupted.
“Hugh, please.”
“You will marry her,” Lord Cranbourne insisted again. He waved his arm toward the marquess, so caught up in his anger he nearly tripped over himself. “Say it now.”
