Page 51 of Tender Blackguard

The marquess lifted his hand from her breast, and it took all she had not to utter a protest. But then she felt the gentle brush of his knuckles across her cheek.

In an instant, she felt him withdraw.

Not physically, since he continued to hold her. But in every other way. It felt as though a cold draft swept through the passage, chilling her heated skin as the flames he’d ignited in her body were blown away.

As soon as the maid finished stoking the fire and Lark heard the soft click of the bedroom door as the girl left the room, Lark eased away from the marquess. Lowering her chin, she started on the buttons of her dress.

Though she was no longer pressed flush against him, feeling every plane and contour of his chest and belly and thighs, she was still close enough to feel him stiffen as his hands dropped away from her. His voice sounded strained in the dark. “Allow me to help.”

“It’s all right,” she whispered. “I’ve got it.”

She would, anyway, if her fingers would just stop trembling. And she’d stop trembling if she could manage to stop thinking about how his mouth tasted, sinful and erotic, or how his hands felt, strong and masterful.

As she stood there, trying to put her thoughts together over the deafening sound of her racing heart, the man who’d claimed her body and her senses as his own shifted subtly in the dark.

Uncertain in a way she’d never before experienced, she didn’t lift her head from her task.

“Return the way you came,” he muttered heavily. “And don’t access this passage ever again.”

His movement disturbed the fall of her skirts and stirred the air around her, causing the heady scent of sandalwood to swirl through her awareness before he left her. Looking up then, she caught only the faintest outline of his form before it disappeared into the darkness of the passage.

Waiting until she was confident that she was alone, she took several deep breaths. Then she checked the details of her appearance with careful hands, straightening her bodice and setting her lace cap back into proper position. A few strands of hair had loosened from her pins, but there wasn’t much she could do about that.

Another deep breath, a final check of her buttons, then she reached for the hidden latch.

The panel shifted to show a small crack of light from the room beyond, and she pushed it the rest of the way open. Blinking into the brightness, she stepped forward. But then suddenly remembered why she’d come here in the first place. Turning back, she flipped open the lid of the box still tucked into the corner.

But it was empty.

Chapter Eighteen

Alastair had no destination in mind when he left her in the darkness behind him. He just needed to get away from her. From the temptation of her. The warmth and softness and unrestrained acceptance.

And from his own guilt and shame.

But no matter how long he walked the streets of Mayfair, he couldn’t get the taste of her off his lips nor could he forget how she’d felt in his arms. It was everything he’d imagined and coveted from the moment she’d turned her gaze upon him. No walk had the power to dispel the way those stolen moments in the darkness with her had changed him. From the inside out. He’d never be the same again.

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