Page 18 of Lord of Mistrust

“Was I looming? My apologies. So, are you going to tell me what you were doing in that house of ill repute?”

“Certainly not, as it’s none of your business.”

He tipped his head on one side. “If you are a whore, you’re the most reticent I’ve ever encountered.”

Why did his gaze keep sliding toward her mouth? It was most unsettling.

She pushed her shoulders back. “I’ve told you so many time that I am not. You should accept the word of a lady.”

“If you are a lady, then who are your people? Who are your family, and whither are you bound?”

He was looming even more. So close, she could feel his breath on her face. And there was no space for retreat. Placing a hand firmly on his chest, she gave him a push, but he was immovable. Instead, the rogue placed his palm over hers and came even closer.

Time for the knee again? She rather thought it was. But before she could move, he’d wrapped his arms tightly around her, pulling her against him.

“Nothing to say, Madam Mystery?” His lips teased her ear.

She tried to speak, but her voice lodged in her throat. A giddy sensation of excitement washed over her as she stood quivering in his arms, fascinated to discover what he’d do next. The strength and power that emanated from him both comforted and alarmed her. Protection, safety, danger. She wriggled, only to find his arms tightening around her.

He pulled his head back a little, and she was able to focus on his face. His gaze had darkened and a smile played about his lips.

“I find staring death in the face has a way of making one feel gloriously alive—as if one’s continued existence was a gift not to be squandered. As if there isn’t a single moment to lose. Tell me, didn’t besting that blackguard stir your blood, just a little?”

She shook her head. It had been terrifying. Particularly when he’d pointed his weapon back at her.

“But you were magnificent.” Even though Sir Robert was holding her less tightly now, her limbs had turned to water, and she couldn’t have escaped had she wanted to. Did she still want to escape?

He twined a curl of hair behind her ear and stroked her cheek. Suddenly, she remembered she was wearing only her thin summer nightgown. Far too little to shield her body from his. He must be able to feel her breasts pushing up against him—it would incite him, would it not?

What else had her mother taught her about evading the attentions of a lustful man? Frantically, she searched her memory, struggling to pull together her scattered thoughts. Sir Robert, meanwhile, was gazing at her mouth again, a hungry smile on his lips.

Go limp. That was it. Go limp and slide down, out of the grasp of your over-amorous suitor.

Well, it might work with the clientele at Mistress Riviere’s when they overstepped the mark, but they didn’t have the reflexes of Sir Robert Mallory. The instant she relaxed, he scooped her up and held her across his body.

“You’re not about to swoon on me, are you? Mayhap you’d better lie down.” He carried her to the bed and laid her atop the cover.

Nay! If she lay down, she’d be completely at his mercy. But when she struggled to sit up, he pressed her shoulders back against the mattress, then lowered his head and touched his lips to hers.

It was the briefest of touches, but it calmed her fears and, at the same time, ignited a curiosity within her. Her treacherous body demanded more.

“Sweet as sugared rose petals. I would taste you again.” His voice was as soft as the caress of his lips.

She should turn her head aside, or fight—or even scream. But she did none of these things. She merely gazed into his admiring eyes and wondered what was to follow.

“No complaint, Mistress?” He brushed her lips with the tip of his tongue, and they tingled in response.

Nothing to complain of as yet.

“Won’t you kiss me back?” He pressed his mouth more firmly over hers, licking the seam of her lips, sipping, sampling, then increasing the pressure.

This was surprisingly delightful. In fact, he should stop talking and do more kissing. Each kiss was like an enchantment, awakening a different part of her body, filling her with life, yearning, and expectation. There was a hint of brandywine on his lips. Indeed, the man was akin to that potent spirit, stripping her of her worries and inhibitions. Was this how seduction worked? If so, he was very good at it.

Her lips parted, and she felt the questing of his tongue. When she opened her mouth, he pressed decisively in, taking possession.

How long she lay like that, molding her mouth to his, experimenting and experiencing, she couldn’t say. But eventually, he lifted his head and drew in a long breath.

“Thank you, my lady. A most welcome taste of Elysium.” His voice had deepened and his words sounded slurred. Where his body pressed against hers, it felt heavy, hot, and languid, as if he were melding himself with her.