Abandoned to the Prodigal - Mary Lancaster Page 0,82
finger continued to stroke her neck, inducing little sparks of pleasure that swept over her skin, reaching through her whole body. She swallowed. “How fortunate that you are my friend.”
“I am,” he agreed with a hint of ruefulness, although his finger did not stop its sweet, potent arousal. “But I am not a saint.”
“So your cousin told me.”
His finger did not even pause its caress but moved an inch further back, to her nape. And now his thumb brushed her over-sensitized skin, and she almost gasped.
“Colin?” he murmured, without obvious interest. “What did he tell you?”
“That you lost your position as tutor by seducing your pupil’s sister.”
“I didn’t touch her.” His fingers stilled, and something approaching panic filled her.
Don’t stop, don’t stop.
For once, he looked serious. “Do you believe me?”
She gazed deep into his dark eyes and nodded, “Yes.” It wasn’t really a surprise. She knew him, this friend whom she loved.
But perhaps it surprised him, for his lips quirked as his finger and thumb moved again. Relief surged along with delicious weakness. How could such a small, light, yet entirely improper caress, affect her so deeply?
“Then you trust me?” he asked.
She nodded again, and with the movement, his finger slid lower, beneath her shawl.
His breath caught on a sound that wasn’t quite laughter. “You have no idea of the wicked ideas in my mind right now. Believe me, your trust is all that holds me to one kiss.”
His mouth suddenly closed over hers. A flame of sweet, powerful desire curled low in her belly. His kiss was tender, as gentle as his caress, and yet it was so deeply sensual that she trembled.
Slowly, his hand moved, around to her throat and gradually, achingly, his mouth left hers. “Run,” he whispered.
She reached blindly for the door latch, and he kissed her again.
“You said one,” she reminded him shakily against his lips.
They smiled on hers. “I lied.” He raised his head. “But only a little.”
His had fell away at last, leaving her cold, and it was he who opened the door a crack, making sure the passage was clear. As if she couldn’t help it, her hand followed her fascinated gaze to the strong column of his throat. Her fingertips trailed down it to the pulse that thundered at the base.
He grasped her hand and glanced at her, his eyes laughing and yet behind the amusement, a look of deadly seriousness that thrilled her. Wordlessly, he dropped a light kiss on her hand and drew her outside into the passage, thrusting her candle back into her fingers.
With the cooler air, cooler sense washed over her, and she fled. She only glanced back once, and he was still watching her. Somehow, that was thrilling, too.
Chapter Twenty
Leaning one shoulder against the door frame, Dan watched her glide along the passage in the glow of her candle. She looked ethereal, almost other-worldly. Beneath the sheer fabric of her night-rail, where the shawl did not reach, the tantalizing shape of her legs glued him to the spot. His mouth was dry.
Turn back. Come back to me now. Where would be the harm?
She glanced back once, then vanished down the stairs. Only when he heard the faint click of her door closing, did he move back inside his chamber.
The harm, of course, would be in her uncertainty. So many other people were trying to force her into marriage that the last thing she needed was a man seducing her and forcing the issue in another direction. She had already offered to be engaged to him just to discourage everyone else. The hurt of that had surprised him, as had the strength of his desire to be betrothed to her in reality.
To call Juliet his wife…
Unthinkable…
And yet to have the right to protect her, the joy of being her husband, living with her, loving her…
Dan had never had the means or the desire to even consider marriage, but with Juliet, it would be fun. His breath caught. He groaned, dragging his tortured body to the bed and throwing himself down. He lay, staring up at the ceiling, the back of one hand across his forehead. Gun leapt up and lay at his feet.
Juliet. My Juliet.
Yes, but she isn’t mine. Maybe one day…
Determinedly, he dragged his mind away from such fantasies, and searched around for a subject to distract his lust.
Susan, mushrooms, shots that had so far missed him.
Juliet’s warning touched him. And though he didn’t want to think about it, she had made the point he had