Page 21 of One Thing Leads to a Lover

For once, she didn’t babble or ask questions. She did as she was told.

Pressing her body against his, she rose up onto her toes and brought her lips to—well, to the edge of his jaw. Her aim must have been thrown off by the darkness. Then she dragged her petal soft lips along the determined stubble that had reappeared over the course of the evening, at last reaching the corner of his mouth. Was that—Christ have mercy, was that the tip of her tongue?

He dropped one hand to her hip to turn her slightly out of the path of the light, out of the view of the intruders. He had no fear of being recognized, but he had to take care she wouldn’t be either. At this angle, nothing of her would be visible but perhaps the edge of her skirts, and in the semi-darkness, their color could not be easily identified.

God, but her dress was just as wicked to the touch as it was to the eye, the way that filmy red layer—the one that promised to reveal everything to a man’s eager gaze—slipped and skated over the silky stuff beneath, revealing her curves to the palm of his hand. His fingers curled almost convulsively in the fabric, against the flesh beneath. He needed—

He needed to take control of this kiss. The cold sharpness of the jewels at her throat pressed into his palm when he lifted his other hand to the back of her neck, squaring their mouths, keeping his determinedly closed.

It didn’t help.

Her own lips were still slightly parted, still soft and inviting, and for all that his brain knew this kiss was a ruse, his body seemed to have other ideas. On a groan, he drew her closer, tipped his head, and claimed her mouth with his.

His own eagerness did not entirely surprise him. It had been an age since he’d been with a woman, and longer still since he’d kissed one, since he’d tasted such sweetness or drunk his fill of those little feminine sighs. He moved his lips hungrily over hers, wanting to imprint every clinging curve of her mouth on his mind.

Her eagerness, though, was a revelation. The way she claimed him in turn, no battling for dominance, no awkward bumping of noses or clashing of teeth. As if she’d already made a mental map of his mouth and was traveling familiar roads. Yet along the way she seemed to discover new pleasures, the sort that made her wander back to a spot she’d just passed for a more thorough exploration. No rush to hurry on to other points on the journey. Just here and now, this kiss, for as long they liked.

She’s only playing her part, doing what you asked, warned his brain, at present entirely disengaged from his actions. She’s clever—she understands what’s at stake.

But did he?

Dimly, he heard another giggle from somewhere near the door. A masculine voice. “Looks like this spot is already taken. Come, my love.” Another click of the door latch. Total darkness again.

For a moment more, he went on kissing her, telling himself it was necessary to maintain the pretense, in case the other couple returned. At last, however, he dragged his mouth away from hers, set her on her feet, and dropped his arms to his sides. Tried to bring his ragged breathing under control—all the while reveling in the sound of hers.

“That was—” He drew another steadying breath, licked his lips. Tasted her there. “That was well done, your ladyship. I don’t believe they suspected a thing.”

“They were coming in here to—to—” He could almost hear her blush.

“Yes. Such things do happen at society balls.”

“Do they?”

The question sounded earnest. Was it possible for a widow—especially one who kissed like Lady Kingston—to be so innocent?

“So I’ve heard,” he said. “Something about the environment encourages people to…to give in to what would no doubt be, in the clear light of day, an ill-advised, even forbidden attraction.”

“Oh.” A rustling sound in the darkness revealed she was straightening and smoothing her dress. When she spoke again, he heard something strange in her voice. “George wouldn’t approve.”

Of that, Langley was certain. And if he weren’t more careful than he’d been tonight, Dulsworthy would catch on and call him out. Worse, General Scott would have his hide.

He was here for the codebook. Nothing more.

“You should return to the party, ma’am. I’ll search for the book on my own.” When she neither moved nor spoke, he added, “On behalf of the Crown, I thank you for your assistance.” The words sounded absurdly formal, even to his ears. “We shan’t require anything further from you.”

She must have nodded. Her ruby earbobs winked in the faint suggestion of light coming through the window. He strained to catch the whisper of her slippers across the carpet, but the next thing he heard was the click of the door latch.

He was alone.

Chapter 6

Amanda snuggled more firmly into her pillow, determined to ignore the tentative tap-tap-tap on her chamber door, which sounded to her aching head more like a volley of gunshots.

Never having consumed three and a half glasses of wine at one sitting before—the remainder of the fourth had spilled when Amanda had strangely misjudged the distance to the table—she had no prior experience with how she would feel the morning after such folly.

Another tap-tap-tap at the door, this one accompanied by a soft “Mama?” Jamie’s voice.

She managed to lift her head, despite its inordinate weight. “Yes, dear? Come in.”