Page 14 of Lady Frederica and the Scot Who Would Not
Good God, the woman may be an innocent, but she was a siren, if ever one existed. His blood moved through his veins in a hot, rushing wave. He envisioned himself hooking a finger under her chin, turning her face fully to his, tilting it up, and claiming her mouth to wipe away the rancid memory of her first kiss. He located the control he’d used to survive on the streets, and he gripped it in his mental fists.
“I hope I don’t recall that kiss tonight,” she said, suddenly angling toward him so that their faces were only a fraction apart. She pressed her fingers to her lips as a severe frown marred her pretty features. “Do you think I will?” She shivered then and rubbed at her arms, then darted a look at him. “I’m sorry.” She gave her head a little shake as she moved her fingertips from her lips to her temples. “I’m uncertain why I’m talking of this now. I had thought I put it behind me. I had thought to take you to task for your highhandedness with me in Covent Garden.”
“Had you?” He was now the bemused one. And when was the last time a woman had made him feel bemused? Never, that was when.
She nodded. “You can’t keep me from going there.”
“I can.” It wasn’t a boast; it was just a fact.
She frowned at him, even as she shivered again. He took her hands in his, brought them to his mouth, and blew on them.
“Oh. That feels lovely,” she said, “but you ought not do that.”
“You are undoubtedly correct. Shall I stop?”
Just as a small smile tugged at her lips, she sucked them inward as if attempting not to show her mirth. She partially succeeded, except that those dimples appeared in her cheeks. He’d not known dimples could be erotic, but hers kindled his lust to a full flame.
“Not just yet,” she replied, her eyes meeting his, and the look there…
Well, that look of desire being awakened was more than a man could withstand.
“I can ensure Marco’s kiss is not the one you’ll remember tonight.” His senses had taken full leave of his head, but he’d find them again when the carriage stopped. This was for her.
This is noble.
That was likely stretching it, but he was in no mood to analyze his intentions.
“And how can you ensure that?” she asked.
By God, if a woman could purr, Lady Frederica just had. His mouth curved into a teasing smirk. “By kissing you, of course. Are you certain you’re an innocent?” She flirted like an experienced Cyprian.
She arched her brows. “Are you certain you’re skilled enough to make me forget that man’s kiss?”
“I’ll let you be the judge of that,” he replied, sliding his hands into the heavy, silken hair that tumbled around her shoulders.
As his fingers delved through her tresses to cradle her head, she let out a little sigh of pleasure that made him hard for her. He was no green boy, but his body was responding as if he were. Her eyelashes fluttered downward to veil her eyes just as he ever so gently brushed his lips over hers. She tensed, as he’d expected having just been through what she had, so he pulled back a fraction. “If you want me to stop—”
“No.” The huskiness of her voice reaffirmed the claim. “Do go on.” The words were followed by her small hands coming to rest on his thighs. It was nothing, and it was everything. It drove a hunger for her straight through him.
That wasn’t the plan. The plan was one kiss. One slow, thoughtful kiss to help her forget, and then he would forget her. He traced his tongue over the soft crease of her mouth, and when she relaxed fully against him, he nudged her lips open with his tongue.
Fire and honey met him, and that hunger she’d inspired deepened so that when she tentatively touched her tongue to his, then released a little mewling sound of pleasure, he forgot himself completely. He covered her mouth with his, wanting to devour her softness and to take her taste inside him. Her hands moved upward and inward along his thighs, and his body hardened further in response to her touch.
He brought his own hands from her head to her shoulders, the need to have her closer eating at him. As he tugged her near, she slid her hands to his waist to pull him toward her, as well. Her soft chest crushed against him, and the carnal need to possess her was unleashed. He broke the kiss to plant more of them on the long, slender column of her neck. She threw her head back for him, moaning, and her sound of pleasure made it hard for him to remember what it was he’d intended. All he could think was how he wanted to slip his tongue into the rip of her gown and lick her skin. He bent his head to do just that when the carriage came to a halt and reality came crashing down around him.
He set her up in the seat, shocked to realize he’d leaned her back during the kiss. He drank in her eyes, heavy lidded with desire, and the pink flush of her cheeks, the redness of her lips, and her disheveled gown.
Good lord! He yanked it as far closed as it would go as the coachman knocked on the door. “We’ve arrived, and the house is dark,” Mr. Hanover said.
A relieved look skittered across Lady Frederica’s face.
“Excellent,” Gabe replied, trying and failing to quit staring at her as his mind struggled to absorb the effect she’d had on him. He had nearly lost control with her. Never, never once had he done such a thing with a woman.
“We’ll be just a moment,” he managed, his mind reeling. How the devil had he gone from being intent on merely seeing her safely home to kissing her senseless? He scrubbed a hand over his face, feeling her watching him.
“Yes, sir,” Mr. Hanover replied. The coachman’s boots tapped against the road, and then quiet fell.
Gabe cleared his throat, trying to think where the hell to begin. Best to start with the most important thing, and it wasn’t the bloody kiss. The kiss was regrettable, though it had been the best damn kiss of his life. That was actually regrettable, as well. “Listen, Fre—Lady Frederica,” he corrected.
