Page 36 of The Scoundrel and the Lady

She swallowed visibly, and he noted the way her eyes widened. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips.

He wanted to kiss her. But he knew that would only lead to him wanting other things. Desire was one thing and action another. But he hadn’t gotten where he was without a modicum of control over his own urges. He could kiss her just this once. He reached up and took off her woolen cap and began the arduous process of removing her hairpins. He took one within his fingers and showed it to her.

“I had not realized that something this innocuous could be brandished as a weapon.”

“They have been known to be quite useful.”

“You admit that you have done this sort of thing before?”

She tried to shrug, but his hand held her still while he continued to unweave her hair from its confines. “I admit only that I believe that a woman should know how to protect herself. There is no legitimate reason why we must be dependent on men. We are quite capable on our own.”

“I agree with that, but I don’t believe that is the only reason you have acquired such skills.” He moved in close, so that his mouth was but a breath away from her ear. “Iris, tell me your secrets.”

She sighed almost imperceptibly, but he was observant, especially when it came to her. She wanted to tell him. “I cannot say anything more on the matter.”

He kissed her ear, then her neck. “Very well.” The pulse just beneath her ear drummed against his tongue, and he nibbled at it. He trailed hot kisses down the length of her throat. “I can think of other ways to occupy our remaining time.”

“Indeed?” Her voice trailed off in a light wisp of a moan. She tilted her head to give him better access to her throat.

He turned her face and looked into her eyes, warm pools of green like a country lake on a summer morning. “You are a most fascinating woman, Iris Bennington.” Then, he kissed her. He cradled her face and slanted his mouth over hers, allowing himself complete access to her mouth. She parted for him. Tentatively she met his tongue with her own, and the bold move stoked the fire burning in his gut.

He shifted her onto his lap and found she could easily straddle him with her trousers on. There was far less material between them. It was a heady realization. He wanted her and she’d know it. There was no mistaking the hardness now positioned right between her clothed legs. He should be thankful she wore those wool pants.

She settled on to him and must have immediately noticed because she stiffened. But as they kissed, she relaxed into him and he pushed against her. She writhed against him. His hand went up to cup her breast, but he felt the ridge of the binding beneath his hand. Damn the thing. He wanted to free them, kiss every inch until the punishment of them being bound tight to her chest was nothing but a faint memory. He kissed her neck again, trailing hot bites along her collarbone and eliciting small moans of pleasure from her.

He kissed her lips, plunging his tongue deep inside and pulling her tight against him. She moved against his erection, moaned deeply, and did it again. Over and over and rode him with the friction of their clothing the only barrier between them.

And then it happened. During one passionate kiss she froze, tossed her head back and shuddered as a climax rocked through her. It was the most beautiful and seductive thing he’d ever seen. He wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the night pulling that same reaction from her.

Thankfully, though, the carriage rolled to a stop in front of her townhouse and he could remove her from his lap, lest she move again and he spill himself in his own trousers.

“We are here,” was all he managed to say. He didn’t want to let her go. He wanted to bring her straight back to his home and into his bed.

She blinked at him before awareness lit her eyes. “Yes, well, good evening.” Then she practically ran from the carriage to her front door.

He watched her enter her home before he finally knocked on the carriage roof to leave. Then he swore. What the devil had he been thinking?

He had resorted to paying people for their story before, but he’d never crossed the line to seducing information out of someone.

Still, he was a journalist at heart, and she had known this about him when they’d first met. Hell, it had been the very reason she’d wanted an introduction. This was a story he simply couldn’t ignore. He couldn’t not investigate because Iris was somehow involved. He’d discover her secrets and he’d write a storyhimself,leaving out any details that could be traced back to Iris or her friends. An anonymous story, of course.

It wouldn’t be the first time. And no one ever figured out whom those stories were truly about. They gossiped, but it never went further than that.

He’d make certain there was no incriminating information, and no one would ever link it back to her. Her reputation would remain above reproach.

He’d momentarily considered seducing the information out of her. After all, that was his job. But she’d been closemouthed about all of it.

Looking back now, he wondered if he’d tried to seduce her strictly for the information, or because she was simply irresistible. He’d wanted her from the moment he’d seen her, and tonight had only intensified that desire.

He needed to remember what they had between them—a business agreement and nothing more, which meant he had an obligation to his readers to report on the gem he’d uncovered tonight. All he knew at this point was that she had been trained to brandish hatpins as weapons.

He would uncover the full story, and when he did, it would be the scandal of the year.

Chapter Eight

Iris had stayed by Lucy’s side the entire night, save a handful of dances, choosing to only dance when her charge also had a partner. This was a big enough ball that leaving the girl to her own devices could result in a disaster.

Lucy had certainly come a long way since they’d begun working together; she was a quick and eager student. She was no longer so nervous and jittery. Still, Iris could tell that Lucy did not yet feel as though she belonged in Society. Perhaps she never would. Iris had lived in this world, among these people, her entire life, and sometimes even she did not feel as though she fit in.

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