Page 27 of Beguiling the Baron

She swallowed hard. “How can I trust you when you won’t tell me what’s in the folly?”

“Because it doesn’t affect you. It’s private and will remain so. There’s nothing terrible there, believe me.”

“Hal—”

“Shh.” He placed a cool finger across her lips. They suddenly became as sensitive as her nipples, and she squirmed against the tree, aching for she knew not what. Helplessly, she gazed up at the man before her, the moonlight blazing on his bare shoulders.

What an amazing mouth he had. A slender upper lip, a full lower lip with a bow-shaped curve between and the slightest of upward quirks at the corners. How much would she give right now to hear words of tenderness issue from those devilishly tempting lips?

His finger stroked along her mouth and under her lower lip, then dropped to create a gentle pressure beneath her chin.

“Would you consider me a monster if I kissed you?”

“W—Why would you want to?”

“At this particular point in time,” he drawled, “I can’t think of any reason not to.”

She closed her eyes as his delectable mouth brushed across hers. Like the touch of a flame, it ignited answering fires throughout her body. His damp hair trailed coolly along her cheek, and further drips found their way into the warm cleft between her breasts.

His mouth widened against her own and she pulled back to stare at him. Yes, incredibly, Lord Ansford was happy. And what a devastating smile he had. It knocked all the air out of her.

“You . . . you should smile more often.”

“I haven’t had much reason to, before now.” His deep, intriguing voice washed over her like a benediction as pleasure swelled within her.

“And you should come out more often with your hair down and no underclothes on,” he added.

There was a faint clink. Her nervous fingers had dropped the key. She made no attempt to retrieve it. Nor did he.

He reached out to the ties closing the flap at the front of her dress. She was completely in his thrall now, unable to do anything to restrain him as he tugged at the bow and smoothed the cloth back from her breasts.

Intent on what he was doing, Tia no longer clung to the tree. Instead, her hands were glued to the silken skin on his back, her fingers digging into the firm flesh, pulling his body closer. Her breasts were now bared to his view and his warm, knowing hands. One palm cupped her tender flesh and stroked it admiringly. She heard his breath catch in his throat as his other smoothed across the taut nipple, brushing its peak with his thumb.

Hot desire gushed into her belly, between her legs, in all her deepest, most intimate places. Oh Lord, oh Lord. This should not be happening. He was her benefactor, her superior, a dangerous, unpredictable man. There was no need to put herself even more into his power than she was already. And if this caress were to lead to anything more, what effect might it have on her future, her mother’s future?

No, it wasn’t worth the risk. Lust was shallow and quickly sated, she’d heard. Succumbing to it was too high a price to pay.

She was summoning her scattered wits to put a stop to the caress when Hal suddenly pulled away, swearing softly.

“What the deuce am I doing? Galatea, cover yourself, I beg you. Forgive me. I’m a fool and a brute—I’m so sorry. I swear on my worthless life I’ll never take advantage of you again.” He swung away from her and strode back to the pile of his clothes.

She collapsed against the tree like a deflated balloon. As her shaking fingers struggled with the ties of her dress, she sought to congratulate herself on a fortunate escape. But her body, throbbing with unfulfilled need, told her quite the opposite.

Moments later he returned, no longer a moon-etched god of the night, but an awkward and angry English aristocrat in a damp shirt.

“The key, if you please.”

She bent and fumbled about among the old acorns and leaf mold until her hand touched metal. As she handed it to him, his fingers brushed hers, and she experienced again the heady leap of desire. But he had already retreated from her, back into his melancholy isolation.

He hung the cord around his neck and gathered up his jacket. “I’ll walk you back to the house. I know my way through these woods far better than you.”

Eager now to be away from the man who’d exerted such devastating power, she kept her distance. Only when they reached the shadow of the archway did she break the loaded silence.

“My lord . . . Hal. I’m sorry I’ve mistrusted you. I hope you can forgive me for being such a nuisance. You have my promise I won’t pry into your affairs, or your past, any further. I’ll keep away from the folly, and the library, and the cloisters and—”

He turned and caught her gently by the elbow. “Galatea, I appreciate that promise. I insist on the folly alone being sacrosanct. Your presence in the rest of the abbey I find I can bear very well. In return, I ask only that you forget tonight and carry on exactly as you always did. Agreed?”

She peeped at him from beneath lowered lashes. Truly, he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen, particularly when his face was soft and earnest like this, mellowed by the darkness. She nodded slowly as he held the cloister door open for her to enter.

“I will,” she agreed.

But she knew it was a lie.