Winter's Whispers (The Wicked Winters #10) - Scarlett Scott Page 0,34

with Blade were no different than the way any man who was adept at kissing would make her feel.

“I…”

The remainder of her response died beneath Chilton’s lips. His kiss was…firm. Warm. Dry. Facile, yet uninspiring. She kissed him back, moving her lips against his in the same fashion she had responded to Blade’s mouth. She waited for the frissons of desire to lick up and down her spine. Waited for longing to pool low in her belly. For heat and throbbing to blossom between her thighs as it had whenever she had kissed Blade.

Instead, she felt…

A curious, disappointed nothing. Not one single thing. No emotion, no sensations save a mouth pressed to hers.

Not a hitch in her breath, not a quickening in her heartbeat. She felt strangely unenthused. Almost as if she were removed from her body, watching someone else allow Viscount Chilton to kiss her.

But these were her lips. It was her body.

The kiss ended. Lord Chilton raised his head, looking down at her with a tender smile that only spurred a twinge of guilt deep within her.

“Lady Felicity, I am an ardent admirer of yours.”

She stared up at him, wondering if Blade Winter would ever say ardent or admirer. Undoubtedly, he would not. Instead, he would kiss her breathless and take her to the edge. To the point where she would do anything, forget her duty, her sisters, her future.

Chilton was waiting for her to speak, she realized belatedly. “Thank you, my lord. I am flattered.”

And disappointed.

So disappointed.

Because Chilton’s kiss had proven to her, beyond a doubt, that there was something special about Blade Winter. Something different.

Something that made her heart pound.

Her knees go weak.

That made her want to swoon.

Lord Chilton extended his arm to her once more. “We have been gone for too long, my lady. I dare not risk anything more than one kiss beneath the mistletoe. I daresay it was enough.”

Viscount Chilton was right about that. Their stolen kiss had been enough.

Enough to prove to her there was only one man she wanted to kiss. And it was not Lord Chilton.

Oh dear heavens. What was she to do now?

Everything within Blade cried out the need for his fist to connect with Lord Chilton’s face. He had failed to note the moment the dark-haired lord had led Lady Felicity from the ballroom. But he spied the instant they returned. Chilton looked pleased with himself.

The bastard had been alone with her.

Blade’s feet were moving, carrying him across the polished parquet. He was a bullet shot from a gun, hurtling toward his intended target. Mindless. Determined to do damage.

He neared the couple, and Lady Felicity’s eyes widened as she took him in. Likely, his face suggested he was about to tear off one of Chilton’s arms and beat him with it. He wanted to do that. But something stopped him.

An instinct he had not realized he possessed.

It told him he could not settle this matter as he would in the rookery.

And it told him how desperately he wanted this woman. More than he wanted his next breath. Because he was about to be…

Civilized.

He bowed rather than brawling. “Lady Felicity. Lord Chilton.”

Though the viscount’s gaze narrowed upon Blade, he had no choice but to play the gentleman and bow in response. “Mr. Winter.”

Lady Felicity dipped into a perfect curtsy. Her lips had that dark-berry stain that told him she had just been kissed. Fucking hell. Instead of the outrage he had expected to feel, the queer sensation overwhelming him was disappointment.

Hurt.

Pain.

What the devil?

“I believe the next dance is mine,” he said, as if he had not a care.

As if he were a nib. As if he always invited ladies to dance. As if he had bloody danced before. As if he did not want to hang Chilton with his own cravat.

As if he did not also wish to inform Lord Chilton that not only was the next dance with Lady Felicity his, but the woman herself was as well. Which he longed to say, although it was not true. She could never be his. They were too different, their worlds disparate. She needed a husband to fulfill her obligation to her family and sisters. He did not want to marry.

Chilton said something Blade’s overburdened mind refused to hear. All that mattered was the lord went away. And he was leading Lady Felicity to the dance floor and Christ help him, but the song was a minuet. He was going to have to prance. And try not to trip either