His expression shuttered. “You are not what I expected.”
“Oh, what did you anticipate?”
“A mouse. But instead I found a lioness.”
He robbed her of speech for precious moments. A lioness. A most particular compliment. The rake was determined to worm his way into her good graces, Maryann decided, almost fondly. “Better than a racoon!”
A quick flash of a smile from him had her looking away to regather her wits. “You were there, tonight, in the gardens,” she said, assessing every nuance of his beautiful expression. It was an injustice for a man to be so handsome and yet rotten to the core. “That is how you know exactly what happened.”
His head dipped ever so slightly, and she took that as confirmation. The charming scoundrel she glimpsed whenever she saw him in public settled over his face, causing an odd sense of fascination to blossom through her. The change was quicksilver fast, but somehow that dangerous aura melted away with effortless ease. This man was now the rogue, and the idea that he could have such a duality of nature sent a thrum of curiosity through her veins.
He shifted, and it was then she acknowledged how remarkably still he had been. He came closer, and the scent of him roused her senses alarmingly. Maryann instinctively stepped away until her back was flushed against the wall by the door. She stared at him helplessly, terribly aware that her thigh and legs were on display. Why were they conversing so intimately close?
“What are you doing?”
She loathed how breathless and nervous she sounded, and in response lifted her chin defiantly so she peered up at him. He placed the flat of each palm by her head, effectively caging and surrounding her with his bulk.
“You declared to the world that I ravished your lips thoroughly.”
“I… Only two or three ladies overheard,” she muttered.
Looking down at her, he arched one of his dark, slashing brows. “We both know there is an intrepid scandal sheet reporter burning the midnight lamp to ensure that story is run this week. Possibly even tomorrow. I’ve always not liked being accused of liberties I did not take. Surely I must rectify the matter.”
“You are here to…to kiss me?”
“I’ve never kissed an innocent before.”
She scoffed with a breath that trembled. “With all the ungovernable debaucheries laid at your feet, I highly doubt that sentiment.”
“I’ve never kissed a lady who didn’t want to be kissed.”
She believed him, but Maryann wasn’t about to reveal that in the dark of her room, she had thought about kissing this rogue more than once. His head dipped, and Maryann felt certain she was about to faint. She placed the flat of her palm over her lips to protect them from his ravishment. A gleam, one of amusement, stole into his eyes, and he pressed his lips to her knuckles. His lips felt like the softest brush of a butterfly’s wings against her flesh. Her lashes briefly fluttered closed at the feel of his mouth on her fingers.
It wasn’t a kiss…but her knees weakened.
Silly, silly knees.
“How interesting that you’re not skewering me with this clever mouth of yours.”
Her breath softly hitched. He had perceived that she was not as indifferent to him as she’d like him to believe. They stared at each other through the space between her fingers. Maryann wondered if his heart raced as fast as hers did, or was this a game to him? A flirtation that only amused him?
A quick flick of his tongue, and he licked between the vee of her fingers. A sweet, wicked ache trembled low in her belly, and Maryann’s entire body blushed hot. For the breath of a moment, her gaze locked with his. The eyes watching her were hard and sharply intelligent.
Noting her reaction, his hard, sensual mouth slowly curved.
“You want me to kiss you,” the devil murmured.
“I once wanted a pet skunk, too.”
The marquess chuckled, and she couldn’t suppress a dismaying ache of want.
His head shifted to the side, and he pressed his diabolical mouth right next to her smallest finger, at the corner of her mouth, then bit down. The slow nip against her mouth was shocking and sudden and shatteringly erotic.
“You scoundrel!” she gasped, hating how husky her voice sounded. Hating how her heart pounded. Hating how she trembled infinitesimally.
She only needed to lower her hand and turn her head the smallest of fractions, and their mouths would meet. Her entire awareness became centered around the featherlight pressure of his lips at the corner of her