The Bareknuckle Groom - Holly Bush Page 0,31

her bare back with his fingers. It was enough to make her sick. She was looking for Aunt Louisa when she felt a hand at her arm.

“Did you enjoy your dinner?” she asked James Thompson as she glanced over her shoulder to confirm what her intuition had told her. He was guiding her with light pressure at her lower back through the crowd gathering near tables with elaborate desserts and past servants handing out delicate china cups of tea and coffee. The men were mostly gathered near a servant pouring brandies and whiskeys.

He moved her through a door that servants were rushing in and out of and down a hallway. He stopped at a closed door and looked behind them.

“In here,” he said and turned the knob.

The room was dimly let by a low flame in the fireplace. She wandered toward it, watching the wood crack and hearing its hiss. She turned when she felt him behind her.

“I didn’t care one bit for that boy beside you with his arm around your back. Did he touch you?”

She stared into his face, his sparkling green eyes intense and blazing. “He touched my back, but I moved out of his range. I’m accustomed to handling men like that.”

“I’ll kill him,” James said in a low, gravelly voice.

“You really needn’t do that, especially now,” she said and stepped an inch closer to him.

He crowded her further. “Why ‘especially now’?”

“I’m here with you, aren’t I? And you have your hand on my waist.”

He smiled that devastating smile of his. “I do, don’t I?”

She pursed her lips into a smile and laughed lightly. He stared at her mouth and closed the few inches between them. His touch was light, his eyes drowsy but focused on her. She could smell an earthy cologne and mewled when he ran his tongue over her lips. He opened his mouth over hers, touching her tongue with his, his hand around the back of her neck, holding her still as if she was going to try and escape the magic he made.

His hand slid down her neck, to her shoulder, and down her chest until his fingers grazed the top of her breast. She moaned into his mouth. And then he had both hands on her breasts, rubbing her nipples through the silk, making her ache between her legs. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he continued to toy with her breasts, his mouth on hers. His head wrenched up at the sound of a knob twisting. They both turned to see a door open that she hadn’t noticed before, as it blended in with the dark paneling on the far side of the room.

“Through here, James. And hurry,” a tall man said.

James grabbed her hand and pulled her quickly to the open door. As it closed, they both heard the main entrance to the room open. “Lucinda?” she heard her father say.

“Best straighten your dress, miss,” the tall man said.

“Eyes up, MacAvoy,” James said.

She glanced down at herself and turned quickly away. She pulled her dress into place and turned back. “So this is MacAvoy.”

“This is MacAvoy.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“How did you know where to find us?”

“Was keeping an eye on you and her da. The way he was looking at you, boyo, you’re lucky you’re not dead. Eleanor saw the two of you come out of the servants’ door to the gallery, and I had a good idea what your intentions were.”

“There’s a lady present, MacAvoy. Best not take that thought any further.”

She laughed and looked up at James’s friend. “Thank you, Mr. MacAvoy. Do you have a plan for how to get us back into the party?”

“Not Mr. MacAvoy. Just MacAvoy. Eleanor, my betrothed,” he said and straightened, preening as he said the woman’s name, “will take you up the servants’ staircase so you can come down the public one.”

Just then the door opened to the hallway, and James pushed her behind him. A tall, attractive woman in the conservative uniform of a servant stepped inside.

“Mrs. Emory,” James said.

“Mr. Thompson. It appears you need rescuing yet again,” she said and turned to Lucinda. “Miss, we’re going directly across the hall to a servants’ door. Follow me, please.”

Lucinda touched her hand to his as she hurried behind the woman now leading her confidently out the door. Lucinda stopped at the entrance before entering the hallway to look for her father.

“Mr. Vermeal is with Mr. and Mrs. Nathan Pendergast, miss,” Mrs. Emory said over her shoulder. “This