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he gazed at her from under heavy lids. “Who’d have guessed you’d be so irresistible?”

      His words, just breathed against her lips, reflected her own feelings. Except she’d half expected it and never thought she’d have the chance to discover if she were right. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

      “No, we probably shouldn’t.” He held her, watching her with an intensity that missed nothing. Connie stayed where she was, aware of the danger but lulled by his very presence.

      “So what happens now, Connie?”

      She was damned if she’d stop now. The recklessness she’d suppressed for most of her life emerged, blinking into the daylight. For once, it would get its way. Her last chance to taste true desire, she wasn’t about to give this up. But there was this, and there was reality. “By the end of this visit, I expect to be formally betrothed to Jasper Dankworth. At the moment I’m a free agent with an understanding, no more.”

      “Is that an invitation, Mrs. Rattigan?” He gave her a wicked smile.

      She didn’t know what to say.

      “I won’t do anything you don’t want and we’ll do nothing more than kiss here. Anyone could come in.”

      Startled, she jerked back.

      He hauled her back again. “We have a little cover and enough time.” He dropped a kiss on her nose. “Sweet. You taste sweet.”

      “Honey for breakfast.” She gave him a cheeky grin. Connie struggled to regain her common sense but the more he gazed at her the more impossible it became to do so.

      “Or your own dulcet self.” His eyes darkened and gleamed.

      She wasn’t experienced enough to interpret but it was warm and it heated her all the way through. “What is it?”

      “I have a compulsion to taste you all over, discover where your honey is the most delicious.” He swallowed and his muscles tensed around her. “But I will be content with what I can see. For now.” He kissed her throat, flicked his tongue out and followed the strong tendon down to the hollow of her throat, where he lingered and soon had her gasping his name.

      “I’ve never considered Alex a particularly wonderful name.” He breathed the words over her neck, so intimately. “But when you say it, I can’t imagine a better one. Say my name again, sweetheart. Just like that. As if you want me.”

      Oh God, she did, she did want him. How could a simple kiss have escalated to this? To this yearning? She was drowning in him, in her need for him. But she’d only known him for a very short time. She couldn’t let him take this much further, although how could she stop him when she wanted it so much? This was dangerous, really dangerous.

      He caressed her waist and she felt it through all the layers she wore as if he branded her skin. She turned, trying to get close to him and he laid one sweet kiss on the upper curve of her bosom before he returned to her mouth.

      He took his time, tasting her, coaxing her response. Tutoring her. She gave him everything he asked for, opening her mouth to his onslaught. His hand shook when he clasped her wrist and stroked the inner skin.

      How could such a public part of her body be so sensitive?

      His thumb slid up her arm, toward her elbow. He slipped his fingers under her sleeve and gave the inner part of her elbow the same treatment, all the time taking her mouth in kiss after kiss.

      Hungrily, she gave him as much passion as he gave her, willing to follow him wherever he wanted to take her. As long as he didn’t stop.

      He glided his hand back down her arm, gripped her wrist and drew back. “No more,” he said, gasping for breath. “You try my control.”

      Disappointment flooded her being. She wanted more, so much more.

      He smiled down at her. “You’ve not had much experience, although thank God you’re not a complete innocent. But I’m further along this path than you and I know that if I press myself on you now, you’ll accept me but you might regret it later.”

      With a rough growl, he bent and took another kiss. She gave it, moaning into his mouth, the sound setting up intimate vibrations.

      He tore his lips away from hers. “We can’t. Truly, Connie, we can’t. You’re close, so am I. I only have so much self-control and I want you so much.”

      At last, she understood this went two ways and women had power in this situation, too. Nobody had explained that before and she’d never seen it. She’d lost her mother early, too early to make an impression on her. She’d been brought up by her loving father and a succession of nursemaids and governesses. Even he’d gone now. And he couldn’t have told her about this. Her marriage hadn’t shown her that either. Nor the friendships she’d made with men in the local assembly rooms and on the hunting field before her marriage. Nobody. Just as nobody had told her about this yearning.

      His hands shook before he took a deep breath and firmed his hold on her. “Come. Sit.”

      She never expected him to respond like this. A dalliance was all she’d expected from this practiced seducer, someone to give her one precious experience before she entered the marital state for the second time. The secret place between her legs had dampened. And it angered her that she didn’t know what to call it. No coy, feminine euphemisms, she wanted to know. How could she have lived this long, been married and know so little about herself? He would tell her, if she asked.

      She pushed her thighs closer together.

      Holding her hand, he took her to the chair he’d occupied and she sat while he drew up another similar one and sat next to her. Immediately he reached for her hand again. He brought it to his lips and kissed her palm but then lowered it. They sat together, hands clasped.

      “You’ve never experienced that before, have you?”

      She shook her head.

      “It’s simple lust. We’d have done something stupid, or I would. With the door unlocked and in a public room, I’d have thrown your skirts over your head and taken you.” He watched her, seemingly in control of himself but under his plain maroon waistcoat his chest moved more strongly than usual. “Why aren’t you pulling away, scared?”

      She had stopped being scared of the truth years ago. “Because it’s true. You’d take me and I’d let you.” At this moment, she didn’t care. He could have her any way he wanted her.

      With those cold words, he’d been trying to push her away but they didn’t succeed.

      He glanced down at her skirt, then up. “You shouldn’t move like that. Or I will take you, dammit.” He swallowed and took a couple of deep breaths. His fine woolen waistcoat moved and the gold buttons glinted in the sunlight streaming in from the large windows to one side of them.

      Fortunately, this room wasn’t on the side of the house where people would be strolling and taking the air. Her blood went cold. She hadn’t even thought about someone seeing them. He’d swept her away, but she had to admit she’d done some of the sweeping herself.

      “Let me tell you a story. I’ve talked about my cousin Winterton before, haven’t I?”

      She nodded. Oh, yes, nobody could miss reports about the Earl of Winterton.

      “He’s glorious. He awes everyone when he puts his mind to it. I can do it but not as magnificently as he does. Julius is the pink of the ton, the arbiter of fashion.”

      “I read that about you, too.”

      He laughed, a low rumble. “You have?”

      “We can read in the north.”

      He squeezed her hand. “I know that, believe it or not. Yes, if you read a newspaper, you’ll have come across their names. Julius and his brother Augustus. Julius had more to take out on the world. Augustus escaped in classical study and fled abroad, but he can

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