She’d never been a coy woman. From the first, he’d recognized her rare authenticity in the world of appearances and illusion he inhabited. In some profound way, she turned him into a good man. If she ever took that feeling away, she’d leave him desolate.
Such magic she had. And he’d fallen under her spell before he learned to fear her ability to wreak devastation upon him.
“Good dreams?” Pascal straightened away from the door and approached her. Every time he saw her, he paused to thank whatever forces blessed him with this extraordinary woman.
To his delight, she flushed and avoided his eyes. “I doubt if my vicar would describe them that way.”
“How intriguing.” He caught her hand and, with sudden determination, tugged her into his arms. “Tell me more.”
“Perhaps later,” she gasped, as her soft breasts met his cream brocade waistcoat. Her heat seeped through his clothing and stoked his desire. She was warm in body and soul. Until he met her, he’d lived in an arctic wasteland. “You’re far too used to getting your own way, my lord.”
“My lord?”
She tilted her face up, and he caught the spark of mischief in her eyes. A few weeks ago, her fire had been banked. Now it flamed high for all to see. “Gervaise.”
She wouldn’t know this, but whenever she spoke his name, her expression softened in a way that turned his cynical heart to pudding. “That’s better.”
“It would be even better if you kissed me.”
“I’m savoring the moment.” He strung out the tantalizing delay.
Her fingers curved against his neck in a caress of such tenderness that she stole his breath. Never before had he known this heady combination of passion and affection and respect with a lover. It was as addictive as opium and twice as sweet.
“Savor the moment a little more quickly,” she said drily. “Mr. Harslett has requested the quadrille after supper.”
“Damn it, don’t I know it? Why the devil do you let those other blackguards paw you?”
She smiled and rose on her toes to trace his jaw with her lips. Heat seared a path across his skin, and he started shaking. She was the only woman in Creation who could make him tremble. The whisper of her breath across his face spurred his pulse to a gallop. “You want to be the only blackguard who paws me?”
“Hell, yes,” he hissed and turned his head to catch her mouth with his.
Immediately she curved against him, and her lips opened with a hunger that matched his. He lashed his arms around her, bringing her so close that she could be in no doubt of his readiness. She tasted of spicy honey with a hint of champagne. Her female scent filled his senses, made him drunk on her fragrance.
“Damn it, Amy, this is excruciating.” Reluctantly he drew away. “Will you meet me tomorrow?”
She raised a gloved hand to stroke his cheek. “Silas and Caro are down from Leicestershire, and we’re spending the day together.”
“Come to me instead. Please.” In his rakish past, he’d never pleaded with a woman.
“I can’t.” Her smile conveyed regret, but damn it, not enough. “You know I can’t.”
He scowled, knowing he was unfair, but incapable of hiding his frustration. “All I know is that I feel like I’m starving to death for want of you.”
She cast a sideways glance toward the couch near the fire. He read the thought before she spoke, and a shocked thrill shuddered through him. She was the most exciting woman he’d ever known. Through the heady progress of their affair, she’d become breathtakingly reckless.
“We could do something tonight.” Her voice was a thread of sound, and pink tinged her cheeks. “Here.”
Eagerness vied with caution. He’d never regarded himself as the chivalrous type, but he guarded Amy’s good name like a sheepdog guarded a lamb. “That’s not why I asked you to meet me.”
“I know.” Her voice strengthened, and she spoke with more urgency. He couldn’t doubt that she wanted this. “But with the crowds at supper, nobody will notice our absence. Even if they do, they’ll think we’re in the gardens, or admiring the art in the gallery. There’s time.”
His cock responded predictably to her suggestion. “It’s still risky.”
She pressed her lips to his in a quick kiss that promised more to come. “You’re not the only one who hungers, Gervaise.”
Heat rippled through him. Heat—and gratitude for lovely women who turned a man’s world to bright sunshine. How could he resist? He caught her hand, then stared thwarted at the row of tiny buttons fastening her long red gloves.
Wanton anticipation vibrated in her laugh. “It will take you an hour to undo them. And another hour to do them up again. My maid nearly went cross-eyed, dressing me tonight.”