Page 21 of A Night of Forever
He paced away from her, his frown deepening and his lips pursed. Finally he lifted his hands, a gesture of defeat.
“I have no idea. But until we can discover her motives we must play by her rules.”
Isobel pushed away from the wall. “You’re not suggesting we still go ahead with this betrothal?”
“Why not?” he said. “It’s the only plan we have.”
She could think of plenty of reasons why not. The mere sight of him made her warm and breathless. Physically, he was far more powerful than she. Far more experienced in the games men and women played. If she was not careful, she would become one of his discarded conquests, never content with anyone who wasn’t the one man she could never have.
While she had been engrossed in her thoughts he had moved closer. She stepped back. The sturdy wood of the wall pressed against her spine, and yet still he moved closer.
“Would a fake betrothal be so bad?”
He stepped into her until his chest brushed her breasts. Heat radiated off him. She sucked in a breath, and his masculine scent filled her senses, making her head swim.
“I can be very nice when I want to be,” he whispered, gliding a finger down her cheek.
“I’m sure you can.” Her skin quivered, and she licked her lips, wondering if she’d made a huge mistake. She was about to find out. “I agree that if we are to win the game, we must participate. Victoria obviously wants this betrothal. If my becoming your fiancée enables us to expose her evil ways, then yes, I agree.”
“That wasn’t so difficult, was it?” A faint smile curved Arend’s mouth, and his arms rose to cage her in. “Let us seal our betrothal with a kiss.”
She pushed at his chest, marveling at the strength beneath her palms. “I do not believe that is necessary.”
His teeth flashed. “Necessary? Perhaps not, but some measure of familiarity is inevitable if we are to make society believe we are in love.”
The word “love” punched into her stomach. “We don’t have to make thetonbelieve it is a love match. I’m an excellent catch and you…well, you are wealthy.”
His grin broadened at her attempted diplomacy. “A wealthy rake? Perhaps ‘in love’ were the wrong words. Perhaps ‘infatuated with each other’ would be more believable.”
“Infatuated” was too close to the bone. She was infatuated withhim,but she doubted he cared a fig about her. His next words made her rethink.
“You are a very desirable woman, Isobel.”
That trace of a French accent was her undoing. She could not ignore the heat of admiration kindling in his eyes. Her hands, still upon his chest, flexed. Heat rushed into her cheeks. Had she just felt hismuscles?
She couldn’t think with him standing so close. “I’ve heard any woman is desirable in your eyes.”
“Not true. I am very selective.” He all but chuckled. “What must I do to convince you? Perhaps this?”
Taking one of her hands as they lay curled against his chest, he raised her fingers to his lips and brushed her knuckles in a feather-light kiss.
She trembled.
Slowly he leaned into her, holding her gaze, hypnotizing her, drowning her in his blatant need.
Her lips parted as his mouth drew closer. One soft indrawn breath, and then—oh, mercy, his lips took hers in a soft, tender kiss. A kiss that tasted of the kind of passion that made her forget why this was not a good idea.
Her free hand, seemingly of its own accord, wrapped round his neck to tangle in the soft, silky curls at his nape.
His mouth demanded more.
Then, to her shock, his tongue glided over her lips, probing, seeking entrance. She didn’t resist, simply opened for him, and he swept in. His tongue tangled with hers, stroking the inside of her cheeks—and oh, the sensation made her knees weaken.
He tasted of forbidden things. Delicious things. Tobacco. Brandy.Arend.Arend.Arend.
And the heady rush of her desire consumed her.
When one of his large hands cupped her breast, part of her screamed to push him away, but she didn’t want to lose his touch, his closeness.
