The Mystery Woman (Ladies of Lantern Str - By Amanda Quick Page 0,47

and had wondered if perhaps passion was highly overrated. Now, tonight, she understood that what she had known with Gerald did not amount to anything more than a mild flirtation.

Joshua’s kiss, on the other hand, was the gateway to the fiery passion one read about in the sensation novels that her friend Evangeline wrote. This was the kind of searing excitement that could overwhelm the senses and common sense. A passion like this could tempt a woman to take risks.

Joshua’s mouth was hot and hungry on hers, as if he was demanding—needing—a response. His embrace was fierce and devastatingly powerful and yet she did not feel threatened. Instead she reveled in his strength. She was crushed against him—she could scarcely catch her breath—but the sensation was intoxicating. There was an unfamiliar heat in the atmosphere. Her senses were stirring in ways that she had never known.

She forgot about the approaching couple and threw her arms around Joshua’s neck, allowing herself to sink into him. He groaned and wrenched his mouth away from hers with an effort.

“You smell so good,” he rasped against the skin of her throat. “I could get drunk on your scent. I want to get drunk on it.”

Her pulse was racing and not because of the danger of discovery. She was certain that Joshua was no longer faking the kiss.

“Joshua,” she whispered.

And then the couple was upon them. Beatrice heard the woman’s muffled laughter. The man snorted lewdly.

“Looks like those two couldn’t wait long enough to find a bed,” he said.

“Don’t get any ideas,” the woman warned sharply. “I’m certainly not going to do it in a doorway like a common whore.”

Joshua went abruptly still, every muscle rigid. An icy-cold sensation permeated the atmosphere. Beatrice knew that he was on the verge of turning to confront the couple. She clamped her fingers around his shoulders.

“Darling,” she said, speaking in what she hoped were sultry tones. “Don’t stop.”

She could feel Joshua fighting to rein in the wave of icy anger.

“Please,” she said.

The man laughed. The woman snickered. They both hurried off down the gallery.

Beatrice was once again alone with Joshua.

“My apologies,” he said stiffly. “I did not mean to subject you to such insults.”

She realized that the roughness of the embrace had dislodged a few tendrils of her hair. She took a deep, steadying breath and started to put herself to rights.

“I make my living as a private inquiry agent who poses as a paid companion,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “Before that, I pursued a career as a paranormal practitioner for a certain individual who was evidently engaged in blackmail. I assure you, it takes more than a few snide comments from my betters to insult me.”

“They aren’t your betters.”

She paused in the act of adjusting her hair. “What?”

“You are so much better than they are,” he said. He touched her cheek. “Better in spirit, better in character, better in every way imaginable. You are . . . amazing, Beatrice.”

Stunned, she could only stare at him, aware that her mouth was open.

“Uh,” she said. And stopped. She could not think of anything else to say.

He used the edge of his hand to gently close her mouth. And then he kissed her again, a light, glancing kiss that was at once affectionate, proprietary and somehow filled with the promise of more to come.

But before she could collect her scattered senses he broke off the embrace, wrapped a hand around her arm and drew her into the adjoining corridor.

He opened a door. The dim light from the gallery sconces splashed over the worn stone steps of an old spiral staircase.

“It leads to the floor where your bedroom is located,” Joshua said. “Stay close to the wall. The steps are quite narrow at the outer edge and there is no railing.”

She surveyed the staircase, her heart sinking. Once the hall door was closed they would be locked in darkness. Out of nowhere, memories of her terrifying escape from Fleming’s office slammed through her. But at least on that occasion she’d had the benefit of a lantern. She tried to steel herself but she knew she could not face the absolute darkness of the stairwell, even knowing that Joshua was with her.

“I’m sorry, I cannot climb that staircase without a light,” she said.

“That did occur to me.”

He closed the hall door, cutting off the faint illumination from the gas lamps. When complete night descended, Beatrice felt the panic start to well up inside her. She shivered. Her breath caught