Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,78

blue eyes and a silent request for permission.

The spark of attraction roared to a full blaze, sucking the air from her lungs. Her chin moved up and down of its own volition.

Softness. Warmth. The kiss was tender, almost tentative. His arm came around her and her breasts met hard muscle. She gasped, and his tongue touched hers, coaxing, convincing, melting her all the way to the soles of her feet, and then back up again. She’d been kissed before, quite thoroughly, but it had never stirred her like this.

He tugged her closer and her conscience whispered. Too many small ears and eyes about.

It was only a kiss—a passionate, determined, one but…Oh. His hand slid down to her backside and she gasped again.

If Glanford had ever aroused feelings like this…

Her heart took a leap and then crashed. Lovelace meant to seduce her. He was seeing how far she would let him go. No one had ever… They’d only just met, and he thought she would…

Blasted overbearing coxcomb.

She was calling his bluff. If he took this too far, one healthy scream would bring someone running.

She went up on her toes and matched him with lips and tongue and hands, threading her fingers through thick hair and—

He pulled away and rested his chin on the top of her head. His banyan had loosened, and her cheek touched warm skin and firm muscles.

Heavens. He was not wearing a nightshirt. And his heart was racing like a full team of horses.

With a huff, he loosened his embrace and Sophie slipped out of his arms, her glazed look moving from desire to confusion to…anger?

Would she clout him? Considering her answering kiss, that would be unjust.

Grinning, he crossed his arms.

“I shall avoid this spot on the landing,” she said. “And don’t try that behavior with Miss Cartwright.”

“Miss Cartwright?” The girl was the furthest female from his mind. “Don’t worry. She’ll be like a sister to me. You, on the other hand…”

She leveled him with a heated gaze. “I, on the other hand, am not your sort.”

“My sort?”

“I’ve no interest in a liaison. Not now and not if or when I bring Charlotte—Miss Cartwright—to town.”

“You’ll be staying with my brother. I’m bound to visit there during the season.”

“And I am sure, you’ll find plenty of ladies to court.”

“What if I want to court you?”

“Don’t mock. I’m not seeking a lover.”

“What about a husband?”

“No. I have sons to guide and protect.”

His mother must have made the same argument with herself about keeping James and Edward home for the term. But both ladies would sooner or later have to let go of the leading strings.

“In a year or two, they’ll both be off and you’ll go on with your life, seeing them during the school holidays. And though you’re not perhaps in the first bloom of youth, you are still young enough, and quite beautiful, and—forgive my candor—gentlemen in need of heirs will note that you have produced two healthy sons.”

Astonishment flashed, and the pulse in her neck started up. “I won’t marry to serve as another nobleman’s brood…” She bit her lip, her chest rising and falling most becomingly. “You are a provoking man, Lovelace, but I appreciate your bluntness. Let me be equally blunt. If I could find the sort of good man who’d be a proper stepfather to my boys, I have little to offer. You heard what my son Ben said.”

“I did. A love match is not unheard of.”

“Are you mad? What sort of love match could I find?” She shook her head, and hurried off down the corridor, hips swaying under the too short dressing gown.

Me. You could find me.

He followed her to a door where a maid appeared and looked him over appraisingly before ushering the lady in.

When the door latch clicked, he rubbed his eyes. Perhaps, like Fitz, he was also losing his mind.

The next morning, George entered the breakfast room to find only his mother.

She glanced up from a letter, wished him a good morning and sent the footman for fresh toast.

“I see I am late,” he said. “Where is everyone?”

“Sophie took all the children out to gather more pine boughs and run off their exuberance. You can still catch up if you wish.”

“Tempting,” he said, surprised that he meant it. He turned away and busied himself filling a plate. Sophie’s kiss had piqued more than his curiosity. He’d been up half the night thinking about her. “I’d best have a chat with Fitz first.”

“Fitz left me a note. He’s off to