Her Wicked Marquess (Sinful Wallflowers #2) - Stacy Reid Page 0,82

to his closeness.

“I locked the windows,” she said, flushing at the husky way she sounded.

He stared at her mouth for a long moment. “Very good.”

“Yet you are still here,” she pointed out. “How did you come in?”

“Through the front door.”

Maryann’s mouth parted in a soundless gasp of shock. “Surely it is not that easy to enter someone’s abode and unnoticed, too!” She frowned. “You were unnoticed, weren’t you?”

“Yes.” Now his voice was threaded with subtle amusement. “You do not seem alarmed that I am here. Expected me, did you?”

“I…” A hair tickled along her cheek. She reached up and froze. Once again he had unpinned her hair.

Beneath his unflinching regard, a ripple of awareness went through her, and that inward alarm warned her of the peril to her virtue being so intimately enclosed with him in her bedchamber.

Yet she would not run or act like a silly ninny. If he wanted to kiss her, she would allow herself to enjoy all of his wicked advances. It was madness to even think it…yet the idea persisted. A seething cauldron of restlessness roiled through Maryann, and the shred of caution she had used to guide her life since her come out collapsed in its entirety. She actually felt frightened of what she might do, of what she might allow, without any care or worry for the consequences.

He’ll not leave here until I have taken a bit of what I want.

Nicolas was staring at the spill of Maryann’s hair over her shoulders and down to her waist.

“Your hair is beautiful. Your russet highlights remind me of the leaves in autumn.”

The musing several weeks ago if she should cut it into a fashionable style vanished. Not while he looked at it so. “Why did you come?” she asked huskily.

“You were not at Lady Lauriston’s ball. Not finding you there, I came here. Did something happen?” His eyes held a distinct menace.

Yes. But she could not own to it. She suspected it was not wise to tempt him beyond the limits of his forbearance after recalling his vow to kill Viscount Talbot. Maryann could not have a death on her conscience. “I had no inclination for watching others dance tonight,” she said with a wry smile of her lips.

“Is that all?”

His regard felt peculiarly provocative.

“A carriage almost ran you over today.”

There was a curious lump in her throat that made speaking almost near to impossible. “How do you come to know of it?”

He was silent for a moment, leaving his expression strangely harsh. “I have a few men discreetly following you. One of them reported to me all that happened.”

The breath went from her. “You have men following me?”

“Yes.”

“I am duly alarmed and perhaps a second away from screaming. Have you gone mad?” She wasn’t sure if she should be outraged, appalled, or charmed.

“I am in full possession of my faculties.”

“You will have those men stop following me this instant.”

“No.”

“I—”

He caught her jaw in his hand, the grip gentle but unyielding. “You protest in vain.”

“I am not yours to protect,” she whispered, wanting to strip away his layers and understand why he would guard her in such a manner.

He faltered into astounding stillness, peering down at her enigmatically. Then he released her chin but did not move. Maryann touched the corner of his mouth with her finger. “What do I mean to you?” she asked with remarkable equanimity.

“Always so bold,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving her face.

“Yes, and you should be prepared to acquaint yourself with it.”

“That suggests long-standing friendship.”

“Is that why you are in my chamber, yet again—friendship?”

“There is an irresistible pull to you I simply cannot deny, even though I try to ignore it. I confess you interest me extraordinarily.”

Maryann was suddenly breathless. Their faces were so close together, she couldn’t help admiring the sheer beauty of his face. “Was it our shocking interlude that precipitated this interest?”

“No,” he said softly.

“You say little when you are not playing the charming rake.”

“My thoughts are constantly occupied by you.” His voice grew softer still. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

She was so thrilled by that admission, she almost hugged him. “A very disagreeable experience for you, I am sure.”

“You cannot be important to me.”

Her heart trembled until it ached inside her chest. She shifted closer to him, aware of his pleasing scent. “Why not?”

“Your brother might be my enemy.”

That she had not expected. Her lips parted, but no words came forth. “Crispin?” she finally gasped.

“The very one.”

There was an air of watchfulness about

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