Page 25 of Lady Constantine & the Sins of Lord Kilgore
“I think your father should meet me in the ring.” Rage stirred as he thought about what her words indicated.
“What?”
She blinked and tried to step away from him, but he grasped her elbow and pulled her close. Her skin was warm and silky, her bones small and delicate. Her eyes were streaked with warm gold and her nose tilted up just a bit, and her hair curled at her neck, making him want to tug on those curls. When she exhaled, heat washed over him, and he inhaled deeply, just to breathe in her sweetness.
“Your father,” Callum said, having to pause to clear the huskiness from his voice, “deserves a good beating in the boxing ring for making you doubt yourself. What did he do to you?”
“Are we exchanging secrets now?” she whispered, hesitation in her question.
He’d never exchanged secrets with anyone. The closest he’d come was conversations with Valentine after much imbibing where Callum possibly spoke a sentence or two about his father’s unrelenting disapproval of Callum’s desire to pursue art and his lack of desire to embrace being the marquess. What was it about this woman that made him want to tell her things long buried deep? “Will it make you feel better if I tell you one of my secrets?”
She nodded, and he tugged her just a bit closer so that her hips brushed his, and the hardness she inspired pulsed to life. He had to tell her the truth. He had to. “You have walked into a trap.”
“What?”
Her confused look matched the turmoil roaring inside him. He was going to tell her everything. He was going to tell her, and she’d probably walk out the door and never speak to him again. The thought of that happening was intolerable suddenly, so he said, “I want to kiss you.” This was her chance to demand he tell her of the trap, but instead, she nodded, her cheeks becoming very rosy.
He covered her mouth with his without a single thought for what might happen next, and she moaned, circled her arms around his waist, and tugged him closer. He didn’t care about anything beyond giving her pleasure and showing her just what sort of power she really held over men. Her hands wandered up his back to his hair, and she threaded her fingers into it, her nails scraping over his scalp. It was heaven.Shewas heaven. More moans of pleasure came from her as he plunged his tongue into her mouth to taste her, and her sounds were like kindling on a fire. His desire for her exploded into a life of its own. He swirled his tongue around hers, and by God, she was sweet but tangy like a meringue or a liqueur that someone might dip a macaron into.
The thought of dipping into her brought wicked images into his head of her sitting on a settee wearing nothing but a necklace with a large, sparkling gem. As he caressed her lips, and then broke the kiss to give attention to her long, lovely neck, he imagined painting her naked with that necklace nestled between her breasts. God, that would be wonderful.
Her hands came to his shoulders, her fingers curling into his skin and holding tight, and he trailed his mouth down her neck, wanting desperately to kiss her breasts, even if just the tops of them. But she had on the world’s most modest gown, which he had loved but now despised.
“You’ve too many layers on,” he grumbled, expecting her to protest, but instead she captured his hand and brought it to a series of tiny buttons at the back of her neck.
“Undo me.”
His gaze found hers, an exquisite picture of burgeoning desire. “Are you certain?”
“I’m certain. Just a few buttons, though. I…I want to feel this, even if—”
He pressed a finger to her mouth. “There is no ‘even if.’ I want you. By God, more than I can recall ever wanting a woman.” Her eyes widened at that. “And it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with anything but you.”
“Oh.” And this time the word was filled with wonder.
“Just a few,” he echoed her words of a moment ago, vowing to himself as his fingers quickly worked one hook after the other that he would not allow himself to go too far. He did not truly want to ruin this woman, he thought as her gown loosened and he tugged it down over her collarbone, pulling her undergarments with it as he lowered the muslin. He wanted to know her, let her into his world, and enter hers.Shewas the fresh start he had not even realized he desperately needed.
His lips touched the swell of creamy skin where the sun had never bronzed, and he groaned, as did she. Her fingers threaded once more into his hair, raking his scalp again, tugging him closer until her heart pounded against his lips as he kissed so very close to the edge of danger. He licked right near the edge of the material laying against her breast, nearly working himself into a frenzy of need to pull down the undergarment that still covered her breasts and take her perfect flesh into his hands and then into his mouth and introduce this woman to pleasure he was certain she’d never experienced.
But somehow, inside him, he found the will to stop. He drew away from her even as his blood rushed through his veins and roared in his ears, and he tugged up her gown, memorizing the way her skin had pinked so perfectly from his whiskers. She watched him with bemused eyes as he turned her gently until her back was to him, and then he did something he considered to be the most intimate thing he’d ever done with a woman. He fastened her gown, as a husband would for a wife perhaps, and when he was done, he leaned forward, set his hands on her shoulders, and pulled her against him so her back, her perfect buttocks, every divine inch of her, was pressed to every hard inch of him, and he kissed her neck. He had to tell her the full truth, though he was loath to do so.
“I was supposed to seduce you and ruin you at the behest of Lord Pierce. I agreed to a wager with him. It’s on the books at White’s.”
He felt her stiffen in his arms. She stepped out of his hold, turned, and faced him, wariness setting her features. “I suppose it offended him that I was not interested in his advances. He wants a pet, not a wife, and I would make a very bad pet.”
“Yes.” He smiled slowly, even as he imagined getting Talbot in the boxing ring and bloodying him good. “You would not make a meek and mild wife.”
“Why are you telling me this?” She tilted her head, her eyes delving into his. “Is this your way of disarming me? First kiss me senseless, and then tell me of the wager.”
“I’m not that clever, Lady Constantine.”
“I think we both know you are,” she countered.
He chuckled. “Well, in this rare instance, I’m being truthful.”
“What would you win for seducing me?” she asked, staring at him.
“My land returned to me. Or some of it, at least. I foolishly gambled it away to him while in my cups, which I was floating in because I was feeling sorry for myself.”
