The Problem with Seduction - By Emma Locke Page 0,79

and who gave her courage just by being here.

His lips pursed slightly, matching the wrinkle at his brow. Then he touched her shoulder. Firmly, but not forcefully, he directed her to come toward him. “Your father is a schoolyard tyrant. Don’t let him frighten you. He may be an earl, but my brother is a marquis. We do have ammunition in this fight.”

Gratitude welled in her chest. “Do you think Roman would help me?”

Con’s expression shuttered so briefly, she might have mistaken it. Then he smiled handsomely. His finger reached out again and, with tip of his glove, he wiped away a single teardrop from the corner of her eye. “Leave my brother to me.”

He took a step closer. Her gratitude took on a new feeling. Awareness. Did he feel it, too?

His arms opened wide. Without warning, he enveloped her in them. “I have never seen anyone more in need of a hug,” he murmured against her hair.

Stunned, she could do nothing but stand stiffly. Pressed against his chest, with her arms squashed against her corset and her cheek turned to one side, she waited awkwardly for him to finish. Why was he hugging her when she was sure he’d been about to—

“I’m not going to kiss you.” His warm breath tickled her hair.

“Why not?” The side of her mouth moved against his coat. The soft wool smelled like him.

The weight of his arms settled against her shoulders. His palms ran down her spine and pulled her even tighter against him. “You sound disappointed.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you kissed me. But I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m disappointed.” She tried to sound haughty, but he only laughed. It rumbled through his chest.

He rested his chin against the top of her head. “You smell good.”

Her cheeks heated. “I was thinking the same about you.”

“Oh? And what do I smell like? Dust and spilled milk, I imagine.”

She smiled against his coat. He did smell a bit like Oliver. “It’s nice.”

“I’m glad you think so. Now I know whether or not babies should be bounced while traveling in carriages.”

She relaxed gradually into his embrace. It was odd. She’d allowed herself to be drawn into all manner of illicit activity within a few feet of potential witnesses, but nothing had ever made her feel as exposed as Lord Constantine’s chaste hug did. What if another patron were to walk around the corner?

“Don’t go.” His arms tightened, holding her against him. “Just a moment longer.”

Her heart melted for this man who liked babies and hugging and, for some reason, her. Bit by bit, she worked her hands around his waist and clasped them at his back. He’d done so much for her. If all he asked for was a few minutes’ embrace in return…

Who was she fooling? This felt wonderful.

She forced herself to maintain the pureness of his embrace. The side of her face rested against his chest. The rise and fall of his breathing and the heady scent of him lulled her. She nestled her way even deeper into his arms, until their bodies pressed from thighs to shoulders. A contented sigh passed her lips.

Then, to her shock, she felt his length harden against her belly.

The entryway went so silent, the noise of the patrons dining in the next room filtered through the wall, and the thump of upstairs feet moving through the building tramped above them. This interlude was different from every other one of their encounters. He wasn’t looking to punish her. She wasn’t trying to seduce him.

All of the yearning she’d been denying herself broke free. This was the man she’d been dreaming of since she was a little girl. The kind one. The handsome one. The charming one. The one who would save her from her father…and maybe even herself.

Con pulled away just enough to gaze at her with heavy-lidded eyes. Then his mouth crushed down over hers. Hunger, desire and the endless waiting. All freed at last. She drove her arms around his body and clung to him. Savored the soft, yet urgent feel of his lips against hers. The sure strength of his arms and shoulders and his slight gasps as he struggled to kiss her senseless and keep breathing at the same time. The insistent, throbbing length of him against her—

“My lord,” a man said behind them, “I…”

At the intrusion of the innkeeper’s voice, they jumped apart. Her lips felt bruised. Her breasts swelled against the lace-edged neckline of her gown. In a bid