Lady Guinevere and the Rogue with a Brogue - Julie Johnstone Page 0,50

wave. “You have confirmed it was true. I cannot even say why I mentioned it. I do not care.”

But she might.

The possibility pleased him dangerously. Even aware of that fact, when he felt her physically drawing away, he said, “Guin, listen to me.”

“Why sh—”

“Because,” he interrupted, knowing she would argue. Because maybe they had both been fools. “Aye, when my father saw me looking at ye the night we met, and he said I was not to pursue ye, my first thought as I left his side and went to ye was to pursue ye just to spite him. But within a moment of speaking with ye, that was not my thought anymore. I was struck by yer beauty, yer wit, ye—”

“Oh, yes,” she said, her words dripping with sarcasm, “I can quite recall how my beauty and wit struck you. Why, my charms hit you so hard that they knocked you straight into Elizabeth’s arms!”

“That is not what drove me into Elizabeth’s arms,” he snapped, realizing how damned foolish his words were, how they could be misconstrued, when Guinevere’s jaw went slack.

“My point precisely,” she snapped. “But thank you for reminding me how I pale in comparison to Elizabeth.”

Devil take it. Asher shoved a hand through his hair once more. This was not going well at all. He had no more information now than he’d had at the start of the day on if Kilgore currently had a claim on Guinevere, and he doubted she would be honest with him in her current state of vexation. What he had uncovered, or at least he thought he had, was that she had once cared for him. He didn’t even bother denying that it pleased him. Then he thought of the kiss they had shared in the library and the passion he believed had simmered between them. A kiss could tell a man a great deal, and if Guinevere responded to him as she had in the library, he didn’t see how Kilgore could hold a claim on her truly.

“I’m finished with this hunt!” she announced and shoved the paper she’d been holding into his chest.

He grabbed her by the wrist and brought her hard against him, circling his arm firmly around her back and threading his other hand into her hair.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, her eyes wide.

“Getting answers,” he growled and then lowered his mouth to hers to claim her lips.

She stiffened at first, but then, almost immediately, her lips became soft and her body relaxed. When he traced his tongue over the crease of her lips and she opened for him with a soft whimper, exaltation rushed through his veins. He forgot that he wanted answers. He forgot Kilgore. He forgot everything but the beguiling, frustrating woman in his arms.

Her strawberries-and-cream taste. Her scent of lilies. Her silky hair between his fingers. Her soft body pressed so invitingly to his.

He wanted her. Yes, she was a weakness, but in this moment, he didn’t give a damn. His blood pounded through him, urging him to kiss her deeper, harder, to lay claim to her and demand she respond. And she did. Good God, she did. Her body arched toward his, and she made the most seductive mewling sounds as she met the ravaging of her mouth with a hunger of her own. He tasted her desire. He felt it. He heard it.

Even as a knock came at the garden door and a woman’s voice called out, he did not release her.

When another woman’s voice joined the first, he broke the contact of his lips with Guinevere’s, but he kept a gentle hold on her elbow, not ready yet to totally let her go.

“Open the door!” came a voice he now recognized as Lady Lilias’s.

Guinevere’s hands went to her hair and then over her dress, scrambling to right the mess he’d made. He drank her in, unable to look away. She looked radiant and well kissed. Her cheeks were rosy, her lips swollen, and a flush had crept over her chest.

“Open this door at once!” came Lady Vivian’s voice next. “Our hunt has led us here, and it’s not fair to win the treasure hunt by locking doors!”

He knew he couldn’t keep Guinevere in here alone, but he wanted to. Whatever claim Kilgore did or did not have on her affections, there was something undeniable between them, just as he’d believed there had been years ago. So why had she pretended otherwise? Why had she kissed Kilgore that night