Page 25 of How to Tempt An Earl
She stopped to finger some fine lace, picturing it trimming a linen shift. Such delicacies didn’t belong on the road or on the run. She turned from it and continued. ‘We were told it was for our protection, but I know better now. We were valuable commodities. We couldn’t be risked at fairs or market-day shopping excursions. We were being raised for one purpose: to advance our families in marriage. We were to be beautiful, well-comported, talented and intelligent when needed so that we might appeal to a powerful man. If we should be allowed beyond the school grounds, who knows who we might meet? We might meet the wrong sort of person and, heaven forbid, fall in love with them, or rethink our purpose in life.’
‘Were the schools Roan’s idea or your father’s?’ Kieran asked.
‘I’ve come to believe they were Roan’s. If I’d lived at home, I would have been a distraction to my father. I would have kept him from doing Roan’s work. I think, too, that when I was at school I became leverage for Roan to ensure my father continued to do his bidding. It was not something I understood until after my father’s death.’
Like her father, she had not understood the depth of Roan’s control over those who were in his orbit until it had been too late to free herself.
‘It sounds like a very restrictive way to grow up.’ Kieran squeezed her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles in that soothing caress she’d come to associate with him, the one he’d used the very first day. She leaned her head against his shoulder as they walked, their pace slower now, their attention more on each other than the booths.
‘It was, but tonight I got to have a dream come to life, so perhaps it was worth it.’
She was getting drowsy. It felt good to be held against him, to have his arm about her waist. ‘I would look out of the school windows and see couples at the frost fair. I remember seeing a woman in a red scarf, and the man with her wearing a furushanka—you know, the hats with the ear flaps? They were ice-skating and there was this moment when she threw back her head and laughed and he swept her into his arms and spun her around. He was laughing too, and I thought to myself: I want that. I want a day where I have no cares and where there is someone who delights in me. Tonight, I got to have that.’
‘The night’s not over. Are you ready to eat again? There’s chocolate over there.’ Kieran adjusted their trajectory and they made their way to the brightly lit booth with its cases of chocolates from all over Europe. ‘What shall we get?’
‘A little of everything. Not all chocolate is the same. Trust me, I’ve been all over Europe; I know.’
Kieran slanted her a playful look. ‘I think I might put that to the test.’
They took their bag of chocolate and found a space just outside the lights where there might be privacy. He settled her on his lap. ‘Close your eyes.’ He held a piece of chocolate to her lips, his voice a seductive whisper at her ear. ‘All right, take a bite and tell me where it’s from.’
‘Mmm. This is Dutch chocolate, without a doubt. It’s smoother than other chocolate, and it’s also less bitter.’
‘And this?’ He held up a second piece, his fingers lingering at her lips this time.
‘Swiss. And, by the way, this is not fair—you’re trying to distract me.’ Although, she didn’t mind the distraction and wouldn’t mind if the distraction went a bit further than fingers on lips. Tonight was a night out of time, a night of make-believe where a fantasy had come true. Where one fantasy came to life, perhaps others might follow.
‘That’s amazing!’ Kieran laughed after she’d correctly identified a fourth piece. His eyes rested on her face and she thought, of all the chocolate in the world, she loved the chocolate of his eyes best. ‘You’reamazing,’ he murmured, stealing a kiss, the chocolate game forgotten in the wake of another, more interesting game. ‘You taste good,’ he teased against her mouth. ‘Germany, Austria, Switzerland and Holland all rolled into one delicious kiss.’
Her arms were about his neck. ‘You taste delicious too,’ she whispered, letting her tongue flirt with his. She loved kissing him; loved the way his dark lashes lay against his cheek bones when his eyes closed; loved the way he didn’t rush, as if the kiss was important in and of itself, as though, if kissing was all they did, it would be enough. But kissing wouldn’t be enough for her, not tonight. Tomorrow would be too late. The fantasy would be gone.
The kiss deepened and she gave a little moan. ‘Take me to our rooms, Kieran. Take me there and be my man.’
‘Absolutely, my lady. I am yours to command.’ He lifted her in his arms, the obvious show of strength igniting something hot and primal within her. Her feminine core began to burn, a fire unfurling inch by slow inch.
‘Do you mean to carry me all the way there?’ She’d thought she was beyond the fairy-tale effects of such gestures. Apparently, not tonight; the flame within her only grew hotter.
‘I mean to do better than that. I mean to carry you tobed.’ Desire flared in his eyes, a naked flame of his own. Proof that what she saw in the dark depths of his eyes was desire uniquely forher, rousedbyher. The knowledge of it sparked something hot and wild, something untamed and unnamed within her that was potent and powerful; something that could not be stopped, only sated. Tonight, she wasn’t just going to burn. She was going to incinerate.
Chapter Thirteen
He was Prometheus tonight, playing with fire, basking in its warmth and luxuriating in the power of its possibility as he carried Celeste upstairs. His body was rampant with desire even as he schooled himself to nuance. This was not to be an act of possession, but an act of partnership. He would not fall on her like a stag in rut, no matter how much his body clamoured for that. She had not asked for that—not with her body, nor with her words. She was not a thing to be taken. Although, if their previous encounters and kisses served as indicators, she was not opposed to doing some taking of her own.
Kieran was not wrong. He’d no sooner kicked the door to their room shut and set her down before she was tugging at his neck cloth and yanking shirttails from his breeches, her hands running up beneath the fabric and over his skin even as her mouth sought his in a fierce, greedy communion. ‘Thank goodness I dress simply on the road.’ He laughed against her mouth. ‘Shirt buttons wouldn’t stand a chance against you.’
‘Against…yes, perfect.’ The words were part instruction, part feminine growl, and he had only the merest of warnings before he found himself with his back to the wall. Her hands returned to the waistband of his breeches and he pulled his shirt over his head, balling it up and tossing it aside. He knew where this was going and it wasn’t to bed, at least not yet.
Her mouth was hot on his—by all the saints, this woman could kiss! He reached for the bodice of her gown, giving a silent and perhaps inappropriate thanks to those same saints that a front-fastening bodice was also front-unfastening. He was good with laces and hooks but tonight he hadn’t the patience for them. Neither did she. Deferred passion and desire were riding them both too hard. ‘Did you bring another chemise?’ he mumbled in her ear.
She drew back for a moment, eyes clouding in confusion, her voice a breathless wisp. ‘Yes, why?’
‘Because you’ll need it tomorrow.’ He took the thin linen in both hands and rent it.
She gave a surprised gasp and her eyes gleamed. ‘You wicked man.’ She laughed.
‘You wanton woman.’ He gave a husky chuckle. ‘You beautiful, wanton woman.’ He spun her around then in a hard turn, reversing their position. Her back was to the wall and her eyes were bright with anticipation. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t rather use the bed?’
‘I cannot wait for bed.’ As if in proof, her bared breasts pressed against his chest, skin to delicious skin, flush with the heat of passion. Her hand dropped to the straining length of him jutting under his breeches. ‘And you can’t either.’
