The Girl is Not For Christmas - Emma V Leech Page 0,35

would not give up. Knowing she was putting herself quite beyond the Pale, she gathered her courage, grasped his lapels once more, and kissed him.

For a moment he was perfectly still, no doubt stunned stupid by her outrageous behaviour. She quite understood the reaction. She was stunned herself, and not the least bit surprised when he once more broke away, putting distance between them.

“Hell and damnation,” he cursed, staring at her. He was breathing hard, more colour in his cheeks than she’d seen since she’d met him, though that was likely the cold wind on the beach producing the effect. “You are out of your damned mind if you think I would… with you.”

His tone was scathing, and for the first time it occurred to Livvy that she’d made one crucial mistake. She had assumed that a man of King’s reputation would have no qualms about putting his hands on any woman. Yet she had observed herself that he was a handsome fellow. Women would desire him, without a doubt, so there would be no reason for him to waste his time dallying with a female who not only had no experience but could not pretend to be considered more than passably pretty. No doubt the women he associated with were Cyprians, beautiful creatures well-versed in all the ways of pleasing a man. Why on earth would King risk his friendship with her brother to dally with some dull, provincial old maid? He was right, she had been out of her mind.

The realisation brought shame and embarrassment, and a surge of colour rose to her cheeks.

“Of course,” she said in a rush. Mortified and wishing now to be out of his company with all haste, the words tumbled out in a jerky, staccato fashion. “You’re correct, naturally, it was quite… I never considered that you… that you wouldn’t want….”

Her voice quavered and, to her horror, her eyes burned with tears. Worse than that, now she saw regret in his eyes. Sympathy. Oh, no. Not that. She could not bear it if he pitied her. What on earth had she been thinking? As if he could help her… as if kissing him would make the least bit of difference.

“It’s of no matter. Forgive me, my lord. I… I must beg you to forget that… that I….”

She couldn’t say another word. She was going to weep and so she must get away. Now. At once.

Livvy turned on her heel and hurried away. Humiliation filled her chest, making it hard to breathe, and she could hardly see for the tears blurring her vision. She stumbled on a rock, her foot twisting beneath her, and cursed, righting herself again, but suddenly a strong hand gripped her arm.

“Wait! Livvy, wait, damn you.”

Livvy shook her head.

“Oh, please let me go,” she said in despair. “I shan’t bother you again, only please—”

“No, damn it, you started this. It’s your own bloody fault.”

“What…?”

Whatever it was she’d been about to say, the words died in her throat as she was pulled into his arms. He pressed his mouth to hers, stealing her breath, making her head spin as sensation overwhelmed her. His strong arms banded about her, holding her tight against his body. It gave her the oddest sense of security, which was ridiculous when she’d likely never been in such danger in her life. She didn’t care. It was marvellous. His lips were soft and warm, and then his tongue traced along her bottom lip and everything feminine in her quivered with longing. Oh, yes, he was good at this. Livvy opened her mouth a little, sensing that was what he wanted from her, and his tongue swept in and… good heavens.

She was lost, beguiled by the heat and the slick slide of his tongue as it caressed hers, and then, quite abruptly, it was over. He lifted his head, his expression inscrutable, and Livvy dared to meet his eyes.

“You are, without a doubt, the most troublesome female I’ve ever had the misfortune to encounter,” he said, sounding deeply aggrieved.

Livvy nodded. “I don’t doubt it.”

He made a harrumphing sound but no move to release his hold on her, which was a good thing. Livvy wasn’t entirely certain her knees were up to the job at present.

“You do realise that, in all my years of wickedness, this is likely the most reprehensible thing I’ve ever done? And that’s your fault, Miss Penrose, make no mistake. I tried to do the right thing, but… but then you went and cried,