Page 57 of A Devil in Silk
“If you think it’s necessary.” She refrained from grabbing his hand and begging him to wait a week or two. But a quick mental calculation said she had two, maybe three days before Daniel returned to town.
“Hopefully you’ll be closer to catching the culprit by then,” the marquess said with mocking amusement. “Provided you keep your wits on the matter at hand. One scandal is plenty for the time being.”
He closed the carriage door firmly, then remained on the pavement outside the King’s Theatre, arms folded across his chest as he watched Bentley’s carriage disappear from view.
Any worry she had about her brother’s impending arrival vanished the moment Bentley chuckled and said, “Perhaps you should arrest me. I feel like a thief in the night, stealing you away.”
Heat bloomed in her chest. “If only I had a pair of wrist shackles hidden beneath my skirts. It seems you’ve got away with robbery.”
His eyes held a dangerous glimmer in the muted light. “Should I insist on looking? No man wants to be caught unawares.”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether touching my undergarments is on your list.”
He relaxed back, his tongue sliding over his bottom lip. “It’s more an encyclopaedia than a list. An extensive catalogue of all the wicked things I would do to you, Clara, given half the chance.”
He was different tonight: mischievous, daring.
And she, caught in the pull of it, made a confession of her own. “Strange you say that. I altered my list while listening to the opera.”
“No camel ride through Astley’s Amphitheatre?” he teased.
“No.”
He arched a curious brow. “What could be more thrilling to a woman than feeling like a princess of Arabia?”
Tell him! Time is precious.
How else will you cram a lifetime of memories into three days?
“The feel of your hand caressing my bare skin.”
His breath hissed through his teeth. “Don’t tease me, Clara.” He set his strong hands on his thighs as if rubbing the solid muscles were a prelude to sin. “Not when I’m in this devil of a mood. Not when I’ve kept my desire on a tight leash for years.”
For years?
The confession fed her need to feel like every other woman. Feminine, a source of divine energy she’d seen men crave. But itwasn’t about being an object of desire. It was about believing she could be wanted for who she truly was, scars and all.
“Is that why you came?” she asked, though she was a heartbeat away from falling into his lap. “To claim one more kiss?”
“One kiss will never be enough, Clara.”
“What will be enough?” Her pulse drummed a frantic beat in her veins as she imagined a passion so intense she could barely breathe. “Whatever it is, we have three days to indulge ourselves before Daniel arrives. Tell me, what page have you marked in your catalogue of sinful endeavours?”
He grinned. “I’m confident a woman with your imagination can guess, though this is not the conversation I expected to have with you tonight. There’s something different about you.”
“There’s something different about you,” she countered. “What’s so important it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”
“The same thing that made you leave the theatre before the second act.”
It was lust. Pure, reckless lust. And she no longer cared if it consumed them both.
She lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. “The prospect of seeing you appealed more than hearing an angel sing about a mother’s grief.”
His eyes closed briefly, and he sighed. “Let’s hope grief isn’t the theme of the evening. Tonight, I told my mother she’s clinging to the past and shutting everyone out. She found the truth harder to hear than I’d hoped.”
