A Masquerade in the Moonlight - By Kasey Michaels Page 0,108

eyes steely. “You’re still after them. And you’re not going to tell me why, are you?”

“No, Donovan, I’m not. Just as I’m not going to ask you why you’re so persistently dealing with them instead of pursuing the diplomatic channels the rest of Madison’s envoys use. I suppose we’ll simply have to trust each other—or walk away now and forget last night ever happened.”

She felt his hands on her upper arms as he began stroking her skin, caressing her gently as he shook his head. “I can’t forget. Call me a liar, call me a fool, but I love you, Marguerite, and I won’t be sorry for it. Even if we never kissed again, if I never were to hold you again, I’d love you until the day they put pennies on my eyes—and beyond.”

She felt tears stinging her eyes—tears that had been so easy to shed these past four and twenty hours, after so many years of holding her emotions tightly inside her so no one could see the hurt. “I was horrid to you last night, Donovan, and you were nothing but kind. I hadn’t even thought about the possibility of a child, the possibility I might hurt you, hurt anyone. I just acted. Selfishly. Willfully. I haven’t always been like this, Donovan, I promise. I barely recognize myself this last year. I was just incredibly mean to Billie, and she can’t help herself. I’m so sorry.”

She watched, amazed, as Thomas smiled. “I rather enjoy seeing you humble, aingeal. Will I ever see it again?”

The corners of her mouth tilted and she returned his smile. “I doubt it most devoutly, Donovan, but you can hope.”

“Can I hope to win your love?”

Marguerite closed her eyes. Now was the time to tell him what she had decided, what she had always known but only recently—very recently—acknowledged. She opened her eyes and looked at him, her expression solemn. “You already have it, Donovan. Now it’s up to you to decide if you want to keep it.”

That was the last thing she said for several moments, as his mouth came down to claim hers and she wrapped her arms tightly around him, holding him close as their lips slanted first this way, then the other, as she attempted to—she thought wildly—eat the man alive.

Her teeth nipped his bottom lip and he quickly returned the gesture; then their lips opened and he devoured her with his mouth, his tongue ravaging her as she took great gulps of his warm breath, drank in the moistness from his mouth as she shared hers with him, each of them feeding each other life-giving moisture as if they were savoring their first nourishing sips of water after a long drought.

She felt his arms at her waist, at her sides, cupping her buttocks, pressing her most intimate parts against his most aroused, arousing parts, traveling to her bodice, roughly, almost frantically kneading her breasts inside their damnable confinement as she strained to get closer to him, ever closer.

This was madness. This was a hunger such as she had never known. This was heat and light and passion and a longing for possession, to be possessed, that meant more than air to breathe, water to drink, or food to eat. This was her life, her reason for living, her only reality, her mind-exploding explanation for why she existed at all.

This was love.

She ran her hands up and down his back, feeling the ripple of his muscles beneath the taut material of his jacket. She raked her fingers through his thick hair, pulling him closer, grinding her mouth against his, moving her hips in small circles, feeling the bulge of his manhood against her soft stomach. She pressed one leg between his, trapping that manhood against her thigh, exulting in the knowledge she may have passed beyond rational thought but then, so had he.

He tore his head away from hers and she moaned in loss before he buried his lips against the side of her throat, breathing heavily as he showered her with hard, burning kisses from her ear to her shoulder.

She felt him begin to move, holding her feet above the ground as he nearly staggered deeper into the trees, out of sight of the light spilling from the windows, but still close enough to the mansion to be discovered by anyone who might decide to go poking about in the bushes. She didn’t make his passage into the greenery any easier for, while he continued to press kisses