Say No to the Duke (The Wildes of Lindow Castle #4) - Eloisa James Page 0,66
way through bevies of men. No one excludes them from society for it. They create scandal after scandal with anyone from a cannibal king to a pirate, and people throw dinner invitations at their feet.”
“Would that make you happy? The pirate king? I’ll leave the cannibal king out of it because one has to think that a dinner invitation from him might not be entirely desirable.”
She giggled at that, and then realized that he had pushed over his chair so that it was just next to hers, which allowed him to reach out, scoop her up, and plop her onto his lap.
“What the bloody hell!” she cried, exploding to her feet, wheeling about, hands on her hips. “I allowed you into my chamber with the understanding that you wouldn’t infringe on my person!”
Jeremy stood, eyes locked on hers. “I’m sorry, Bess.”
“Don’t call me Bess!” Betsy snapped. “No one says cruel things to someone they—they treasure.”
“Where in God’s name did you get this idea of marital bliss?” he asked. “Married people say all sorts of things to each other. It’s the nature of the beast. Your spouse is the one person who can be honest with you and still be loved.”
“You have a strange idea of marriage,” Betsy said, trying to make her voice chilly, and not quite succeeding. His eyes made it hard to be lofty. They were deep, dark, and whatever that expression was, she couldn’t stop drinking it in.
She hadn’t known him before he went to war, but presumably he had been more courtly. Now he was rough around the edges, untamed. He looked like a man who would enter a woman’s bedchamber and end up with her on his lap.
“More to the point,” Betsy said, reeling her imagination back to its proper confines, “we are not married, and we never will be. Out,” she said, keeping it short. “Now.”
“One kiss. Please.”
“No.” And then, “Why would I kiss you again? It wasn’t something worth repeating.”
“To me, it was.”
Ugh. Her whole body responded to his expression. And his truthfulness. But she didn’t like his brand of honesty. Did she?
She could jerk her head toward the window and he would leave. She knew that in every part of her being. Even if she lost her head and followed her most reckless impulses . . . she could trust him to stop whenever she wished.
The thought that exploded into her head next was life-changing. If a yellow-haired Prussian came to a country house party hosted by Jeremy . . . she would never leave him. Never.
Perhaps she would have fled marriage with Thaddeus, but never Jeremy.
So she stayed where she was and he took that final step and put his arms around her. By rights he should feel cold and damp, but instead his chest was hot. She eased forward until her breasts flattened against him.
He said something under his breath and his arms tightened. Heat spread through her body, spiraling from every place they touched: his arms on her back, her cheek on his shoulder, her right foot against his boot. His cheek against her hair.
Fire kindled in improper places. She would like him to slide one of his callused hands down to her rump and pull her even closer.
“May I kiss you?” His voice sounded irritable, the tone with which he snarled comments from the corner of the room.
Those eyes that seemed mercilessly unkind were hot and desirous.
For her.
She leaned forward and put her lips on his, because if she was going to throw in her lot with her mother, she might as well go all the way. Their lips brushed softly for a moment and his tongue caressed her bottom lip.
All that lazy fire spilled into open flame. Her body prickled until even the backs of her knees felt hot and weak. She wound her arms around his neck and melted against him until her nipples flattened against his chest. Finally, finally, one of the hands on her back slid down and cupped her bottom.
She shivered and nipped his lower lip, which made him growl. She wanted more.
Yet Jeremy didn’t seem to follow her inclination to move toward the bed and she didn’t have the courage to step in that direction herself. In fact, he pulled away and she swayed toward him before she caught herself.
His eyes were raw with an emotion that went far past her experience of lust. Need, perhaps. Need for her.