Page 47 of To Steal a Kiss

Alice gasped, but the idea was too tantalising to resist. “How?” she asked, frowning. “There are too many layers.”

He moved at once, unbuttoning his waistcoat and tugging his shirt free of his waistband. “Here,” he said, taking her hands and guiding them beneath his shirt. If Alice felt the shock of his skin, hot against her cool hands, it was nothing to his gasp as she put her palms to his sides.

“Oh, God,” he murmured, ducking his head and nuzzling her neck. “I’ve done nothing but dream of this, of you,” he said, pressing kisses to her skin. “Of your hands on me.”

Alice sighed with pleasure, overwhelmed by the softness of his mouth at her neck, of the heat and power of the big body beneath her hands. Feeling wanton and adventurous, she slid her hands higher, delighted at the shivers that ran over him as she moved. Her fingers revelled in the feel of him, soft skin and the tantalising rasp of coarse hair. She slid over muscle, over the ridges of his abdomen, to lay her fingers upon his chest. His heart was a fast, heavy thud beneath her palm, making her own race in acknowledgement of his desire. Smoothing her hands over the broad expanse, her thumb found the tiny nub of a male nipple, pebbled and hard beneath her touch.

Nate shivered and groaned, and Alice felt a surge of power the like of which she’d never known. That this strong body should quiver at the touch of her fingers seemed unlikely, but the knowledge made her bold. Her thumb slid back and forth over the tiny peak as Nate covered her mouth and kissed her again, a desperate sound torn from his throat as he pulled her closer.

“I can’t bear this, Alice,” he said, when he finally let her up for air. “We must marry, please, love. Tell me you want it too?”

Before she could answer he kissed her again and she was relieved for the reprieve. Her head was spinning. Desire was telling her to say yes, yes please, as soon as may be. Yet what remained of her cautious soul pleaded with her to have a care. Could she really keep a man like this happy? Would he always want her like this? Or once the novelty had worn off would he seek diversions away from home? She just needed a little longer, a little more time to be sure.

“I’ll be so good to you,” he said, covering her neck with open-mouthed kisses. Alice inclined her neck as his hand sought the buttons of her spencer, exposing more of her neck and collarbone as the low neck of her gown was revealed. “I’ll give you everything you desire, I swear it. I’ll make you happy.”

It was overwhelming and wonderful, her blood surging in her veins as her hands still explored beneath his shirt, yet dimly she became aware that the sound of the waterfall had stopped, and voices were filling the clearing once again.

“Nate,” she said, regretful for forcing them back to reality as her hands slid up his back and clutched at heavy shoulders. “Nate, the spectacle is over. We’ll be missed.”

Nate cursed and leaned his forehead to hers, breathing hard. “Alice,” he whispered. “Tell me you’re as insane as I am? Tell me you feel it too?”

“I do,” she said, drawing back to meet his eyes. “I do and… and it frightens me a little.”

“Me too,” he said with a rueful smile. “My life is in your hands. Such power you have over me, love.”

There was indeed trepidation in his eyes, but Alice did not feel power at his confession, only a wave of tenderness. She pressed a kiss to his mouth, sweet and loving, and he sighed, closing his eyes.

“Come,” he said with obvious reluctance. “We’d best join the others.” With deft hands he returned his shirt to rights, but allowed Alice to button his waistcoat, smiling fondly at her.

“There,” she said, smoothing her hands over the warm silk that covered his chest. “Good as new.”

Nate gave a wistful sigh and guided her out of the trees, slipping them expertly into the crowds with none the wiser.

“Matilda is just there,” he said, bending to speak into her ear. “I’ll rejoin you in a moment.”

Alice nodded and hurried back to her friends. Matilda turned to give her a knowing smile before sliding her arm though Alice’s and returning to her conversation with Henry. From the look in the young man’s eyes, he was smitten. Alice smiled and couldn’t fault him. Matilda, as ever, looked exquisite. Her dress was a rather daring shade of violet which a lesser beauty could never have carried but, matched as it was with a white satin spencer and a charming hat trimmed with ostrich feathers, she was quite startlingly lovely.

Alice started as she looked across the crowds, seeking Nate, and found instead the unemotional, intent gaze of the Marquess of Montagu.

“Tilda,” she whispered, once a lull in the conversation allowed her to draw Matilda’s attention.

“What is it?” Matilda asked, alerted by the tone of Alice’s voice.

“Do not look to your right, but Montagu is here, and he’s been staring at you this past minute or more.”

What Matilda felt or thought of this information, Alice was none the wiser, for neither her expression nor her posture changed in the least. To her chagrin, however, Matilda did not heed her advice, but turned and looked directly at the marquess.

Alice held her breath. How Matilda could dare to hold the gaze of such a cold and powerful man she could not fathom, yet hold it she did, staring back at him as though she were the Queen and he an impudent pleb. It was like being caught between wolves, one circling the other, and all the tiny hairs on the back of Alice’s neck stood on end.

After what seemed an eternity, the marquess inclined his head, such an infinitesimal gesture it would have been missed on any other man. From him, it seemed vastly significant.

They watched as the party he was with gained his attention, a beautiful brunette moving closer and clinging to his arm. For just a second, Alice thought she saw irritation flash across his granite features, but a moment later he had turned away and she could no longer be sure.

“My word,” she said, letting out a breath she’d not realised she was holding. “What was that about?”

Matilda shrugged, moving away as the rest of the crowd dispersed now the show was over. “He likes to remind me I am nothing to him,” she said, the words spoken lightly though Alice thought her voice trembled a little. “And I like to prove to him he’s less than nothing, the dirt beneath my heel.”

Privately, Alice thought there’d been a great deal more than nothing exchanged or proven in the space of those fraught seconds, but she kept such opinions to herself. There was something between the marquess and Matilda, some strange connection that drew them together. Alice decided to speak to Nate about it, to warn him that the marquess was not done with his sister. Though what the man had in mind she didn’t dare consider.