seemed to realize it needed to end at the same time, for they wrenched apart with a flurry of harsh breaths, wide eyes, and stumbling legs. Dominick’s lips were flushed and slick, and shame overwhelmed her as she realized she’d put that glistening sheen there with her tongue.
She’d behaved abominably, kissing and pawing at him like a shameless harlot. It had been one thing to submit to the rules of their wager and allow him to kiss her. It was quite another for her to have kissed him back, with no regard to who might come upon them or the man waiting for her in the carriage out front.
She lowered her gaze while trying to convince herself that nothing more need come of this. It didn’t have to mean anything. She didn’t have to acknowledge that Dominick Burke had just torn her to shreds with a kiss.
A gentle hand tilted her chin up, and she had no choice but to meet his gaze. His eyes had gone heavy-lidded, but still burned with the hypnotizing intensity that seemed to hold her in its thrall every time she looked at him.
“You’ll be certain to let me know how I measure up against the seraphic Martin, won’t you?”
When she merely gaped at him, unable to speak, he smiled and ran his thumb over her lips. Planting a short, swift kiss against her forehead, he then brushed past her and headed toward the door.
Glancing down, she found his coin lying at her feet, forgotten. Crouching to pick it up, she turned it over and scowled at what she found.
“You … you vile cheat!” she spat, whirling to find him lingering in the doorway, shoulders shaking with laughter. “You tricked me with a double-headed coin!”
With an indolent shrug, he reached up to catch the coin when she hurled it at him.
“Something else you’ve now learned about me, goddess. I’m a betting man, but there are some wagers I’d never leave up to chance.”
Chapter 7
“That most disreputable gentleman, The Hon. Mr. S, has been seen about town yet again with the dowager countess he’s been keeping in grand style for the past few years. They are quite shameless in flaunting their arrangement—though it does make one wonder. The dowager has no need to act as some man’s chère-amie, as rumor has it she received quite the jointure upon the death of the earl. But then, one must account for the salacious influence of Mr. S, who—when he is not battering some poor fellow in the pugilists ring—is known as a rake of the worst order.”
The London Gossip, September 4, 1819
He was an idiot. No, idiot seemed too mild a word, but Nick’s mind was so muddled, exacerbated by the state of his treacherous body, he couldn’t think of another.
Of course, self-castigation did not help matters, because two days after he had succumbed to the mad urge to pull Calliope into his arms and taste her, he had not stopped reliving the moment over and over in his mind. He had kissed her for two reasons.
First, it annoyed Nick to no end that she seemed to hold Martin Lewes up as some paragon of manhood and honor without even knowing him. It never seemed to have occurred to her that he was not the be all end all, or that she would be utterly wasted on a man like that. What sort of man had a willing, eager woman like Calliope Barrington setting her cap for him and failed to take notice?
Secondly, he’d done it because he bloody well wanted to. It had been all he could think about during the meeting of the patronesses of the foundling home. Watching her lead the proceedings with such command and poise had done something to him. It had been the first time he’d witnessed her allowing herself to be seen and heard, as opposed to becoming as small and innocuous as possible. As well, he’d discovered something he realized very few people were privileged to know.
The woman was brilliant. Not just smart or witty, but also driven and full of conviction. She truly cared about the children relying on her, and unlike many of her peers was not content to throw her money at a cause and leave the work up to someone else. She’d been magnificent and he had been utterly captivated by her.
So, he’d stolen a kiss like a slippery pickpocket, knowing the coin flip would turn out in his favor and savoring his little victory. Only,