Page 37 of One Night of Scandal
“That’s cause for celebration. Shall we have champagne?” Isabelle frowned. “Isit cause for celebration? You don’t seem very enthusiastic. In fact, you looked slightly panicked as you made your way over here.”
Panicked? “Grandmama was pressing Orford as a possible match, but I find him condescending.”
“Then scratch him off the list.”
She gave Isabelle a sardonic look. “There is no list.”
“Do you want there to be?”
The word “no” burned her tongue, and yet she couldn’t force it from her mouth. The panic Isabelle had recognized seized control of her so that she was utterly frozen. Maybe she did want a list. Or at least a list of one. Because all it took was one. One man to fall in love with and to fall in love with her. But the idea that two people could find each other and that magic would happen seemed completely impossible. Except she had only to look at Isabelle—and Val—to know that wasn’t true.
Maybe it just wasn’t true for Viola.
Not only was she a pariah, she liked to study maps and write until her fingers turned black from the ink. She hated dancing—mostly—and she liked to discuss politics. What if no man would ever find her attractive enough, and not just physically, to want to marry her? Had she unconsciously made herself undesirable to avoid marriage? The better question was why would she want tostopavoiding marriage? What was goingon?
Feeling as though her world was tipping on its axis, she sought to escape. “Excuse me while I go to the retiring room,” she murmured.
She turned and made her way from the ballroom in a blur. The retiring room was upstairs, she thought, but before she reached the stairs, she saw the one man she’d been searching for all evening. The one man who was, at least, attracted to her physically. Or had been once. Maybe.
Viola rushed forward and grabbed his hand. Wordlessly, she looked around for a place to go. Past the stairs was a slender door that looked like it might lead to a closet.
She opened the door and exhaled with relief—yes, a closet. Then she pulled him inside and closed them into darkness.
“Viola?” Jack asked, sounding very confused.
“Am I unlovable?” she blurted.
“Are you—” He drew in an audible breath. “I am not the best person to ask. Because I’ve never been in love,” he added quickly.
“Neither have I.” She still held his hand, which was how she knew where he was in orientation to her. The closet was smaller than the one they’d visited at the Wicked Duke, and it smelled of linen and soap instead of hops and barley.
“Perhaps we’re both unlovable,” she said.
“I don’t think—”
She didn’t want to think either, so instead of letting him finish, she tugged on his hand. “Just be quiet and kiss me.”
His chest crashed softly into hers as his hand snaked around her waist and held her against him. His mouth found her cheek, and she would never know if that was intentional or not—nor would she ever care. He kissed her repeatedly, traversing her flesh until he found her lips, and then heat exploded between them.
Viola clutched at his shoulders and held on tightly as he wrapped her in his arms. Their tongues met with wild abandon, and she clasped the sides of his neck, tucking her fingers beneath his collar and cravat to feel the warmth of his skin.
He angled his head and deepened the kiss, exploring her while she did the same. She wanted more of this, more of him. She wantedallof him.
His hand pressed against her lower back, bringing their pelvises together. Despite the layers of her petticoat and gown, she felt the faint steel of his erection, and need bloomed between her legs.
He pulled away with a soft groan but didn’t leave her. His lips trailed across her jaw and down her neck. “We should stop now,” he murmured against her even as his tongue traced across her collarbone.
Yes, they should, but she couldn’t. Not yet.
Viola moaned and clutched at his head, wishing they could tear their clothes away.Yes.She longed to strip him naked and see the hard planes of his chest and the delicious curve of his backside.
Good Lord, she was a wanton. And she didn’t care one bit.
He inhaled against her flesh. “You smell so good.” His mouth closed over her skin just above the top of her gown, and the moment she gasped, he tore his lips away.
“We should stop,” he repeated before claiming her mouth once more.
The kiss was frenzied and hot, wet tongues parrying while hands searched for new places to explore. He cupped the underside of her breast as she gripped his hip and dared to cup his backside.
