Page 78 of Only a Mistress Will Do

The bustle of activity swirled around her, but time seemed to have slowed. She could focus on nothing but the fact she was leaving with Tris, who was not marrying Dora.

He took her by the elbow and escorted her into the carriage, then supervised the loading of her trunk and his before settling himself in the seat beside her. With a rap on the trap, Tris sank back on the soft leather seat. A jerk as the coachman started the horses and Harper’s Grange faded behind her.

“You look frozen, love.” Grasping her hands, Tris raised them, and blew on her frigid fingers.

In her haste she’d forgotten her gloves. She’d never believed gloves could keep the hands so warm, but her fingers were like ice, just coming from the house to the carriage. Now, however, his hot breath on her skin sent warmth pulsing all through her.

“Oh, Tris.” Heart too full for anything else, her head spun as he began kissing her fingers one by one, firing off sparks that hurtled straight to her core. To have his mouth on her body again was to gain heaven. Fire erupted at the apex of her thighs. Though a moment ago she’d been cold head to toe, she would swear her body had turned a scalding red from the attentions of his lips.

He grinned wickedly, assuring her the rising temperature wasn’t imagination.

Her face was doubtless cherry red, and the warmth radiated throughout her body, arms, and legs. She’d be tearing off her cape soon, trying to cool down.

“There, that’s better, isn’t it?”

“A thousand times better.” She could drown in the blue pools of his eyes. “I haven’t thanked you properly for rescuing me.”

“Believe me, love, it was completely my pleasure.” He engulfed her hand in both of his, sending her pulse leaping. “Had Harper not given me an excuse to punch him, I’d have invented one. The man’s a bully and a bounder. Not fit for the society of decent women.”

“He struck his wife, according to Dora.” She loosed her hand and sat back. The soaring heat in her blood subsided. “She hit her head and has been insensible ever since. Such a shame, too. She’d been Dora’s only friend in the house.”

“Damn.” He rubbed his jaw. “Forgive me. Downing gave it to me she was recovering from a wasting fever. I suppose he must defend his blighter of a son. Or cover up the more sordid details.” His face sobered. “At least I may put an end to his tyranny day after tomorrow.”

“You will fight to the death?” All of the recent warmth leeched from her, leaving her frozen on the seat.

“I will confer with Duncan when he arrives, hopefully late tomorrow.”

The name of the marquess who killed her cousin always brought a taste of metal to her mouth. She understood with her head the man had to defend his sister’s good name, and God only knew what had prompted Kit to insult her in the first place. But her heart had not yet forgiven Lord Dalbury. Tris’s forgiveness was altogether different. How could she hate her own leg or eye or heart? He was bone of her bone, and now she could lose him once more in this duel. Might as well put a ball through her head or a sword through her breast.

“I sent to him as soon as I left Downing’s library, while you were upstairs changing. My valet, Saunders, should make good time this evening. There is a full moon so I expect him to make Reading at the least. If he’s up and on the road by first light he will reach Dunham House by tomorrow afternoon. Duncan and Manning can leave first thing on Tuesday morning.”

“They won’t want to leave immediately tomorrow?” With such urgency as the situation warranted, she’d expected them to travel through the night as well.

“Ah, well, I have given Duncan a commission he must needs wait to perform.” Tris’s face lay in somber lines.

A prickle of fear inched down her back. Had he sent to make a will? Her stomach churned and her gorge rose. She seized his hands and drew him close, staring into his eyes not an inch from hers. “Promise me you will not fight to the death, Tris. Will honor not be served just as well without your life hanging in the balance?”

“Fear not, my love.” He cupped her cheek, the warm skin of his naked hand like a benediction to her soul. “I will make sure my life is long enough to satisfy us both.”

“You cannot claim immortality, my dear, and that alone would satisfy my hunger for you.” Violet pressed his hand tighter against her cheek, then placed a deep kiss on his palm.

He groaned, a deep, haunted sound, and grabbed her head with both hands, bringing their mouths together.

The kiss seared her, shooting flames of lust to her toes.

He made a slight adjustment to the angle of their heads and their lips melded, soft skin to soft skin, in perfect harmony.

A growl started deep in her throat. They had been too long apart. Denied their love too long. She opened her lips and thrust her tongue into his mouth. He tasted like sweet wine and brandy, an intoxicating mix. She pressed closer, wanting to feel all of him.

He sighed, and drew her into his lap. Their tongues tangled in a glorious duel of their own, the only conflict she might be willing to lose.

Her body steamed, as though the sun had pierced the dark night and shone only upon her, bringing its warmth, making her pulse with need. She never wanted to let him go.

The carriage slowed.

Tris gently disengaged them.

“No. No, Tris.” Her hunger had scarcely begun to flame, much less be appeased by such a brief caress. She pressed against him, seeking his mouth again.