“It’s only l-logical, Your Grace.” She shook her head lazily. “Do you not agree?” The wine seemed to be affecting her very quickly, thickening her tongue and weighting her eyelids.
“I am not so convinced, but if you would like to be sure, Miss Royle, let us go and see. If nothing else, we shall enjoy the air. Right this way, if you please.”
As Rogan led her toward a tray of filled goblets, the heaving crowd pressed them tightly together, and she leaned against him for support. He felt the softness of her breast against his side.
At once he felt a tightening in his groin.
Bloody hell. Not now.
He could not feel such things for her. Anyone but her.
The cool air would help. Had to.
Because Rogan knew that Quinn and Lady Tidwell would not be found in the courtyard.
Nor the garden.
For Sir Joseph had told him only moments before that Lady Tidwell was not feeling herself and had been escorted home by his brother half an hour earlier.
And in all likelihood, he and Miss Royle would be in the courtyard…alone.
The crescent moon seemed unnaturally bright on this particular evening, bringing to Mary’s mind the night when Rogan had slipped between her and Quinn and kissed her, sending her body all to jelly.
Tonight, however, such a rakish act was not a concern. She and the Black Duke would not be alone. Another female, even if Lady Tidwell was that woman, would be present, and Rogan would not dare to repeat such an offense in her presence.
Nor would the blackheart chance piercing his brother’s heart again, not when it had wounded him so keenly before.
No, she would be completely protected from any more roguish exploits this evening, for even a rake must hold some boundaries sacred.
Mary surveyed the moonlit courtyard. “I do not see Lord Wetherly and Lady Tidwell. Do you, Your Grace-” She turned her head to look up at him, and at once her head began to spin. “I mean, Rogan?”
My, she was beginning to feel so…very sleepy.
Her legs were a little wobbly too, now that she thought about it, and she felt unsteady on her feet. She braced herself against Rogan for support and focused her blurry gaze upon him.
Goodness, but he looked rather dashing.
Her gaze drifted to his lips, and she started thinking about their kiss. It had certainly been good, though admittedly, she hadn’t much experience kissing. She wondered if she’d enjoy it if he kissed her right then.
Rogan looked down at her with a most curious expression on his face. “My brother and Lady Tidwell? Oh, they are not here. I did not truly expect them to be.”
“You never mentioned that to me.”
Or did he? Bah, she couldn’t remember.
Mary felt her body swoon fully against Rogan, and his hands suddenly upon her. “I might not have come outside had I known your brother and Lady Tidwell would not be taking the air as well.”
“Well, they aren’t here, so we may step back inside if you wish.” He had that cocky glint in his eyes again. “I had heard that my brother and Lady Tidwell left the musicale early. But I thought a breath of cool air would be most invigorating.”
Mary’s head was spinning when she tilted her face back to look up at Rogan. “So we are all alone.”
“It would seem so, Miss Royle.”
“Mary. I granted you leave to call me Mary.” She squinted her eyes up at him. Lord, her head felt so heavy. “Why don’t you call me Mary? Don’t you like me?”
I like you, Rogan.
No, no. I hate you. That’s right.
Rogan tried to take a step backward. But Mary held firm, lest she lose her own balance. When she pressed up against him for support again, she felt a hardness between them.
Good heavens.
It seemed he did like her. Quite a bit actually.
A grin seized Mary’s lips just then. She was feeling quite courageous just now. Maybe a mite offkilter, but infinitely brave.
And oh-so-ready to shift the balance of power between them. First, she would caress his cheek with her bare hand.
She flashed him what she hoped was a seductive glance as she peeled one glove down to her wrist. But then, she couldn’t pull her fingers out, so she left it bunched where it was.
Did she just hear him chuckle? She looked up at him. “Rogan.” Though she did not intend it, her voice was husky and low. “Have you thought about it?”
His eyes quizzed her. “Have I thought about what, Mary?”
She stood on her toes and slanted her mouth toward his. “Kissing me…again.”
Her fingers slipped around Rogan’s neck and pulled his head down to her. She closed her eyelids and opened her mouth slightly for him.
“Mary,” he whispered, “I vow you are not used to the effects of the wine. You should stop now, before you do something you will regret in the morning.”
“Haven’t you thought about it? You must have.” She lifted her lids and peered up at him earnestly. “Rogan, I have tried to forget the feeling of your body pressed against mine. Fought to wipe away the memory of your mouth, so hot and wet, moving over my lips. But God save me, I can’t do it.”
“Mary, please, do not say another word.” He caught her wrist and made to pull her hand from the back of his neck.
She doesn’t know what she is doing. Make her stop.
Stop now.
“No, please don’t. You don’t understand. I took the wine this night for courage. So I would not retreat.” She placed her hand softly upon his cheek for a moment, then slipped her fingers to his temple and through his hair.
Rogan closed his eyes and drew a deep breath through his nose.
It had been so long since he’d been touched so tenderly. And though he wanted nothing more than for her to continue, he knew he could not allow it.
He caught her hand and removed it from his hair. “Mary, stop-”
Instead she laid her finger vertically across his lips. “Shh. Listen to me. What I felt when you kissed me was like…nothing I have ever known.”
Rogan grabbed her wrist and pulled her finger from his mouth. “You are an innocent.”
“Not so innocent as you might believe.”
“Somehow, my dear, I doubt that.”
“Then you would be wrong, sir.” She lowered her eyes to the pavers for an instant, before meeting his gaze again with an impish grin on her lips. “Believe me, I know how a kiss feels. Yours was not my first.”
“Wasn’t it?”
She shook her head and colored most becomingly. “But I do not lie when I admit that when you touched your mouth to mine, every part of me felt so…so alive-like never before.”
Rogan let his gaze flutter over her flushed cheeks and delve deep into her eyes. “What do you want of me, Mary?”
“I want you to kiss me again-now. I have to know.”
“What?”
“If it’s you, Rogan, who awakened me-or if it was my belief that I was in Quinn’s arms.”
Quinn’s arms? Damn you.
He caught her waist with both hands and held her at arm’s length. “What game is this, Miss Royle?”
Her eyes suddenly took on a sheen in the moonlight. “’Tis no game, Rogan. I want to know. I need to know. Please.”
Rogan’s breath came faster. Walk away. Just turn and walk away from her. Now.
Why, despite his attempts to separate this woman from Quinn, by the end of summer she could become Viscountess Wetherly-his brother’s wife.
“Please, Rogan,” she said breathily. “One kiss.”
Damn it. He couldn’t seem to help himself.
His grip tightened around her and he pulled her to him, closer and closer still, until they stood only a breath apart.
“Kiss me,” she whispered again.