LITMIR.BIZ

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weekend, at least.

      Nor was she altogether sure she wished to.

      She had lain awake in bed for hours after they had parted the night before, her body uncomfortably achy and needy. Her breasts had felt swollen, the tips seeming to tingle and burn, occasionally sending shards of pleasure coursing through her as they rubbed against the material of her night-rail. Between her thighs had felt uncomfortably hot and damp, despite her having used a washcloth before going to bed. And there had been an ache amongst the curls down there that had throbbed even harder when she pressed her thighs together, in an effort to dispel that unaccustomed heat.

      For the first time in her life Mariah had suffered what she was sure must be sexual frustration.

      And it was both frightening and exhilarating, to realise how attracted she had become to Darian Hunter in such a short space of time. How much she desired him. How much she desired to have him make love to and with her.

      That realisation frightened her more than anything else!

      She lowered her lashes in case that desire should now be reflected in her eyes. ‘I know that you do, Darian,’ she answered him quietly. ‘And I am sorry for it—’ She broke off as he stood up abruptly, his chair scraping back noisily on the polished wooden floor. ‘Darian?’

      His eyes glittered dangerously as he stood beside the table glowering down at her. ‘Exactly what are you apologising for, Mariah?’ he demanded exasperatedly.

      She swallowed. ‘I realise that last night—that it did not proceed, as you might have wished it to have done—’

      ‘As I might have wished?’ he repeated softly, dangerously so. ‘Are you denying that your own wishes were exactly the same as my own?’

      ‘I—’

      ‘I advise caution with your answer, Mariah,’ he warned softly, those green eyes glittering dangerously, a nerve pulsing in his clenched jaw. ‘I am not some callow youth who does not know when a woman feels desire.’

      Colour warmed Mariah’s cheeks and she was unsure whether it was from embarrassment at the intimacy of their conversation, or jealousy, because Darian must have intimate knowledge of other women’s desire to be so well informed. ‘This is neither the time nor the place for—’

      ‘Will it ever be, Mariah?’ he bit out scathingly. ‘Will you ever be willing to give yourself to me?’

      Mariah drew her breath in sharply even as a bite of longing twisted almost painfully between her thighs. What would it be like to give herself to this man? Not just any man, but to Darian Hunter, the Duke of Wolfingham?

      Nothing like that horrendous single experience with Martin, she was sure. Even in her limited experience, she knew Darian had already demonstrated that he was a generous and attentive lover, with more of an interest in ensuring his partner’s pleasure than taking his own.

      Could she give herself to this man? Could she let down her guard, her inhibitions, and open herself up to such intimacy? Such vulnerability?

      She was starting to believe, that with Darian Hunter, she just might be able to do so...

      She straightened her shoulders as she made her decision. ‘Perhaps,’ she allowed gruffly.

      Darian’s eyes widened as he barely heard Mariah’s softly spoken reply. He had feared the worst minutes ago, as Mariah’s eyes once again took on that look of distance, as if she were no longer quite here with him in this room, but somewhere else entirely. Lost in memories, perhaps? Some of them unpleasant ones, if he had read her expression correctly.

      Of her husband? Or some other man she had been involved with during her marriage or since?

      Darian’s ire rose just at the thought of a man, any man, ever having hurt her, in any way.

      ‘Mariah?’ He sat down in the chair beside her before taking one of her hands in both of his. Instantly becoming aware of the trembling of her fingers beneath delicate lace gloves—evidence that those thoughts had indeed been unhappy ones? Whatever the reason, he felt heartened by the fact that she did not instantly pull her hand away from his.

      ‘Do you think we could please get out of this oppressive house, if only for a few hours?’

      She blinked long lashes. ‘I ordered fresh coffee.’

      ‘I am sure that Benson is an understanding fellow. He would have to be to suffer working for the Nicholses!’ Darian grimaced.

      ‘Ah, Benson.’ The butler appeared in the room almost as if he had been cued to do so. ‘The countess and I have decided to go for a walk in the grounds this morning—do you recommend any direction in particular?’

      The butler poured fresh coffee into their cups as he answered, his face as expressionless as ever. ‘I believe most of her ladyship’s guests find Aphrodite’s Temple of interest, your Grace.’

      ‘Aphrodite’s Temple?’ Darian repeated doubtfully; if he remembered his Greek mythology correctly, from his years spent at Eton, Aphrodite had been the goddess of love, beauty and sexuality, but better known as being a goddess who indulged her own selfish sexual desires and lust.

      Totally suited to the Nicholses’ lifestyle, of course, but not necessarily Darian’s own.

      ‘It is Lady Nichols’s name for it, your Grace.’ Benson seemed to guess some of his thoughts, his expression still stoic and unrevealing. ‘It is situated amongst the trees to the left of the lake at the back of the house.’

      ‘Mariah?’ Darian turned to prompt, aware that she had not taken part in the conversation as yet. But still Darian felt heartened by the fact that she had allowed her hand to remain in both of his.

      She looked up at the butler. ‘It sounds...intriguing, Benson.’

      She dutifully picked up her cup with her other hand and drank some of the coffee.

      The butler nodded. ‘And it is always deserted during the day.’

      Darian narrowed his eyes. ‘But not in the evenings?’

      ‘Not this evening, certainly, your Grace.’

      To say Darian was intrigued would be putting it mildly. Although, bearing in mind the sexual games the Nicholses liked to play, he could well imagine that Aphrodite’s Temple might prove a little too much for what he now believed to be Mariah’s sensibilities. She was much more easily shocked than he might ever have imagined, or hoped for, before spending so much time in her company.

      She had become, in fact, the most intriguing woman he had ever met. And was becoming more so rather than less, the more time he spent in her company. It was a certainty he had never been in the least bored when with her.

      ‘Thank you, Benson.’ Mariah smiled up at the butler warmly. ‘Perhaps you might ask my maid to bring down my pelisse and bonnet from my bedchamber?’

      ‘Of course, my lady.’ He bowed.

      The silence in the breakfast room seemed charged once the butler had left the two of them alone there. Almost as if the very air itself was waiting expectantly.

      For what, Darian was unsure. He only knew that he wanted to get out of this unpleasant and cloyingly decadent household, if only for a few hours. And that he wanted more than anything for Mariah to accompany him.

      He stood up, retaining his hold upon her hand as he pulled her up beside him, so close he could almost feel the brush of her hair against his jaw, her perfume once again invading and capturing his senses. ‘Ready?’

      Mariah’s heart leapt in her chest, as she knew instinctively that Darian was asking for more than if she was ready to go for their walk. That he was continuing their previous conversation rather than starting a new one.

      Was she ready?

      Was she prepared to take their relationship a step further?

      To

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