Undressed with the Marquess (Lost Lords of London #3) - Caldwell, Christi Page 0,33

would have broken most grown men.

Temperance’s lips turned up in a sad little rendition of a smile. “Not speaking those words doesn’t change my station. It is what I am.”

“You’re my wife, and that is what matters. Those were the terms they held me to, and I’ve . . . you and I have . . . fulfilled those requirements.”

Temperance sighed. “Dare . . .”

And more than half sensing she intended to pull back on that which she’d agreed to, he spoke before she could. “Is two hours sufficient time to collect your things?”

She searched his face. “You are truly certain this is the only way for you to secure your funds?”

“Aye.”

“Two hours is fine, Dare. We will be ready.” Hastening over to where her mare grazed, Temperance gathered up the reins.

“Oh, and Temperance?”

She looked back, a question in her eyes.

“There was so much we were unable to get right between us,” he murmured, drifting closer to her. “And differences and divides that could have never been bridged.” The path of thievery he’d taken, and her resolve to have no part of it, or him, as long as he carried on that life. “And yet you were wrong,” he murmured, lightly palming the silken curve of her sun-kissed olive skin. Now dark when it had once been pale from the polluted London sky. He preferred her this way.

Temperance leaned into his touch. “A-about?”

“Not everything between us was inconvenient. Lovemaking we always got right.”

Her lips parted ever so slightly, and a gust of the spring air carried her shocked little gasp across the remaining distance between them.

Dare closed it. “If the time comes when you again want me in your bed . . .” Dare left those words there for her, and just as he’d longed to when she’d traced her mouth with the tip of her tongue, he rubbed his thumb along the full flesh of her lower lip. A siren’s mouth. The manner of which would send sailors happily into those jagged rocks.

Temperance’s eyelashes fluttered, and she moved close to him, and into his touch. “That would be . . .”

A mistake. A danger to them both. Her words hung there, realized by the both of them.

As such, that should be reminder enough. But he’d always been hopelessly greedy where Temperance was concerned.

Swallowing rhythmically, he lowered his head, giving her time to retreat . . . Only she didn’t. She lifted her head.

“Let me kiss you, Temperance,” he whispered, that soft little entreaty against her mouth.

Her response was instantaneous and glorious, and one he would have sold any soul he had left to the Devil for. “Yes,” she moaned.

And he kissed her. As he’d longed to. Lips he’d ached to know once more and had given up the dream of. Now, as he slanted his lips over hers, he remembered all of her, the electric shock of their mouths meeting running straight to his soul like a lightning charge. The aromatic taste of her, honey and mint leaves, the same as she’d taken in her tea, and more intoxicating than any potent alcohol brewed in the Rookeries. Temperance parted her lips, letting him inside, and boldly met each stroke of his tongue, her flesh a fiery brand that scorched him as she commanded their kiss.

The only sounds between them were the erotic rasps of their breaths as they came hard and fast and heavy, blotting out reality and right from wrong, or reason from insanity. All there was, was the two of them.

Dare glided his hands over her, down the small of her back, over the curve of her waist, and then he sank his fingers into her buttocks, dragging her close.

She pressed her body against his.

Neiiiigh. Her mount stuck its enormous nose between them . . . And just like that, the moment was shattered.

Panting, Temperance stumbled back several steps. Her passion-laden eyes formed slow, widening circles. “That w-was . . .”

Glorious. A piece of heaven he was undeserving of.

“A mistake,” he said instead.

She nodded vigorously. “A mistake,” she echoed. Her fingers shaking, Temperance fished about for her reins.

“Here,” he murmured, collecting them in his only slightly steadier palms.

Frowning, she grabbed the leather reins from him. “This will not happen again. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’ve things I must pack and see to before we leave.” With that, she walked off with her horse trailing behind.

He should let her go. It was the wise thing to do. It had always been the course he should have taken