LITMIR.BIZ

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Barton in his own house. She had gained the necklace, only to lose more ground. And damn Mr Smythe for using her as well. He had been gone more than fifteen minutes, she was sure of it. And he thought nothing of leaving her in the clutches of Barton. Now that Smythe had what he wanted, he had forgotten her.

      It would do no good to fight Barton now. If she gave in, perhaps the incident would pass quickly, and she might escape. She closed her eyes and tipped her head up to meet him as he leaned in and kissed her.

      And she did nothing to stop him, because he was right. The last thing she needed was more gossip. When he wished for her to open her mouth, she did that as well. She could but hope that he would not take things too far in so public a place. And after tonight, scandal or no, she would not be alone with him again.

      He was doing his best to arouse feelings in her, and she took great pleasure in ignoring the attempt. If he wished to make love to her, then let him. But eventually, when she did not respond, he would lose interest and let her go. In the meantime, she would see to it that the experience was not so pleasurable as he imagined.

      He was working industriously on her mouth, and his hands were on her shoulders. It was only a matter of time before they strayed lower.

      She was disappointed to find that she felt neither desire nor outrage at the fact. Her mind felt strangely detached from her body, uninterested in the proceedings and wishing only to go home and put the experience behind her. Let him do what he wished and be done with it. It had been so long since she’d felt anything at all, she doubted that Barton could move her with his fumblings.

      As though he’d heard her thoughts, Barton’s hand began a slow descent towards the swell of her breast.

      And then he pulled away from her with an oath. There was the sound of someone crashing clumsily through the ornamental shrubbery, soft, tuneless whistling growing louder as the intruder approached.

      Barton took off in the direction of the sound. ‘Here, you. What do you think you’re doing?’

      ‘Trying to find my way out of this damn briar patch.’

      Constance strangled a laugh. It was Mr Smythe, making it clear to all within earshot that he was done with whatever business he’d been up to.

      ‘I only wanted a breath of air. Two steps from the house and I was lost in the wilderness. I’ve a good mind to complain to the host.’

      ‘I am the host, you drunken idiot. And you’re stepping on my rose-bushes.’ Jack was furious.

      Constance stepped off the path and disappeared into the darkness, leaning against a tree and giving way to silent giggles.

      There was a pause as an apparently drunken Smythe took stock of the situation. ‘Roses? So I am. Oh, well. No harm done. The spindly little things were half-dead, anyway. Could have used more water.’

      ‘They are in perfect health. And they are imported from France.’

      ‘Well, that’s your problem. Get yourself some proper English flowers. Just as pretty and not so delicate.’

      ‘Get off of my yard, you drunken buffoon! I invited you here, Smythe, on the recommendation of a friend. I can see I was mistaken in the courtesy and it will not be repeated. Kindly take yourself from the premises, before I have you forcibly removed.’

      ‘I was going. Going. Know where I’m not wanted.’ She could hear more crashing, as Smythe wandered noisily away in the direction of the street, trampling more expensive landscaping as he went.

      There was more swearing from Barton as he came back in her direction, and softly called her name.

      She stepped behind a tree, scarcely daring to breathe.

      He walked within an arm’s length of her, but she stayed still in the shadows and let him pass.

      Barton released another quiet oath, and turned in the direction of the house, probably hoping to find her there.

      She smiled in satisfaction. Let him look. She had the necklace again. There was no reason to stay a moment longer. It was not a chill night, she had no wrap. She could find her own way to the street through the garden, without taking leave of the host.

      She turned into the darkness. At least she thought she could find her way to the street. If the house was behind her, then surely…

      ‘Allow me.’ A hand reached out of the darkness, and caught her arm.

      She gasped. ‘Smythe.’

      ‘The same.’

      ‘I thought you had gone.’

      ‘And leave you alone in the dark? I think not. Do you have a carriage back at the house?’

      ‘Barton sent a coach for me. I assumed that I would find a friend to escort me home.’

      ‘And so you have. I will see you home, if you can leave immediately. I suspect I am no longer welcome in Barton’s home.’ She could see his grin in the darkness.

      She smiled in return. ‘And I have no wish to return. It suits me well.’

      ‘Excellent.’ It was impossible to tell, but he sounded sincerely pleased to have her company. He slipped his arm through hers and lead her in the direction of the street.

      A thrill shot through her at the idea of being alone in the dark with him again, far from the safety of the house. Anything could happen and no one would be the wiser.

      ‘You should not be so careless with your reputation, your Grace.’

      ‘I beg your pardon?’

      His voice was gentle, but held a hint of disapproval. ‘You were alone in the garden. With Barton, I mean.’

      ‘Only because you wished me to distract him,’ she said acerbically. ‘You left the method to me.’

      ‘And I did not expect you to choose that one, after what you said to me as we danced. Did you wish for him to kiss you?’

      ‘Not particularly.’

      There was a hesitation. ‘Did you enjoy it?’

      ‘That is a very impertinent question.’

      ‘And that is a very evasive answer.’

      ‘But it is all you will get from me,’ she said. ‘Did you at least get what you were searching for?’

      ‘No, I did not. And what makes you think I was searching for anything?’

      She tipped her head to the side, considering. ‘I am not sure. But I hope, if you merely intended burglary, you would not want or need to involve me in it.’

      He nodded. ‘That is true. And do not worry. It will not happen again. I have involved you too much already.’

      ‘That is all right,’ she said hurriedly. ‘It was not too great a burden.’

      ‘Allowing Barton to kiss you in the moonlight.’ There was a cynical bite to his words that did not escape her.

      ‘It was only a kiss,’ she responded.

      ‘Oh, really? But a kiss can be a dangerous thing, if done correctly.’ He swung her body into his and wrapped his arms around her. ‘Allow me to demonstrate.’ And then he brought his mouth down upon hers.

      It was as it had been on the night in her room. His kiss was as heady and romantic as the smell of the roses in the garden, and she relaxed into it, letting it awaken her senses.

      She slipped her arms inside his coat, and felt the muscles of his back and shoulders tense as her fingers touched him. His arms strained to pull her closer to him, and he stroked her tongue with his, varying the pressure of his lips against hers from punishing firmness to a featherlight touch. When he released her mouth, she caught him about the waist and arched her body away from him, baring her throat and willing him to kiss her there, and lower.

      He

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