He held up a hand. A finger, to be more precise. A simple, concise directive.Halt , it said clearly.Don’t say another word.
Her brows lifted in question.
“There’s more,” he said.
She started to say something.
He took his finger and pressed it right up against her mouth. “Oh, there’s more.”
And this time, hereally kissed her. He took her lips with his, explored, nibbled,devoured . He wrapped his arms around her, pressing her against him, hard, until he could feel every one of her luscious curves against his body.
And she was luscious. No, she waslush . She had a woman’s body, rounded and warm, with soft curves that begged to be stroked and squeezed. She was the kind of woman a man could lose himself in, happily surrendering all sense and reason.
She was the kind of woman a man did not leave in the middle of the night. She would be warm and soft, a languid pillow and blanket, all rolled into one.
She was a siren. A gorgeous exotic temptress who was somehow utterly innocent. She had no idea what she was doing. Hell, she probably had no idea whathe was doing, either. And yet all it took was an untutored smile, a tiny sigh, and he was lost.
He wanted her. He wanted toknow her. Every inch of her. His blood burned, his body sang, and if he hadn’t suddenly heard a raucous shout from the direction of the house, heaven only knew what he would have done.
She stiffened as well, her head snapping a bit to the right, pointing her ear toward the commotion.
It was just enough for Sebastian to regain his senses, or at least a small piece of them. He pushed her away, more roughly than he’d intended, and planted his hands on his hips, breathing hard.
“Thatwas more,” she said, sounding dazed.
He looked over at her. Her hair wasn’t quite undone, but it was certainly fashioned more loosely than it had been before. And her lips—he’d thought they were full and plump before, but now she looked positively bee stung.
Anyone who had ever been kissed would know thatshe had just been kissed. Thoroughly.
“You’ll want to tidy up your hair,” he said, and he was quite certain it was the least appropriate post-kiss comment he had ever made. But he couldn’t seem to summon his usual flair. Style and grace apparently required presence of mind.
Who would have imagined it?
“Oh,” she said, her hand immediately patting her hair, trying rather unsuccessfully to smooth it down. “I’m sorry.”
Not that she had anything to apologize for, but Sebastian was too busy trying to locate his own brain to say so.
“That shouldn’t have happened,” he finally said. Because it was the truth. And he knew better. He did not dally with innocents, and certainly not in (almost) full view of a filled-to-the-brim ballroom.
He did not lose control. It simply wasn’t his way.
He was furious with himself. Furious. It was an unfamiliar, and wholly unpleasant emotion. He did pity, and plenty of self-mockery, and he could have written a book on mild annoyance. But fury?
It just wasn’t something he cared to partake of. Not toward others, and certainly not toward himself.
If she hadn’t asked him…If she hadn’t looked up with those huge, bottomless eyes and whispered, “Kiss me,” he would never have done it. It was a piss-poor excuse and he knew it, but there was some consolation in the knowledge that he had not initiated the encounter.
Some, but not much. For all his sins, he wasn’t that much of a liar.
“I’m sorry I asked,” she said stiffly.
He felt like a heel. “I didn’t have to comply,” he responded, but not nearly as graciously as he ought.
“Clearly I’m irresistible,” she muttered.
He shot her a sharp look. Because she was. She had the body of a goddess and the smile of a siren. Even now, it was taking every ounce of his will not to throw himself at her. Knock her to the ground. Kiss her again…and again…
He shuddered. This wasnot good.
“You should go,” she said.
He managed to sweep his arm forward in a gentlemanly motion. “After you.”
Her eyes widened. “I’m not going back there first.”
“Do you really think I’m going to go in there and leave you alone on the heath?”
She planted her hands on her hips. “Youkissed me without knowing my name.”
“You did the same,” he sniped back.
Her mouth opened into an indignant gasp, and Sebastian felt an alarming satisfaction at having bested her. Which was further unsettling. He adored a good verbal interplay, but it was a dance, for God’s sake, not a bloodycompetition .
For an endless moment they stared each other down, and Sebastian wasn’t sure whether he was waiting
for her to blurt out her name or demand that he reveal his.
He rather suspected she was wondering the same thing.
But she said nothing, just glowered at him.
“Contrary to my recent behavior,” he finally said, because one of them had to act in a mature fashion, and he rather suspected it ought to be he, “I am a gentleman. And as such, I cannot in good conscience abandon you to the wilderness.”
Her brows rose, and she glanced this way and that. “You call this the wilderness?”
He started to wonder just what it was about this girl that had made him so crazy. Because by God, she could be annoying when she set her mind to it.
“I beg your pardon,” he said, with enough urbane sophistication to make him feel a bit more like himself. “Clearly I misspoke.” He smiled at her, blandly.
“What if that couple is still…” Her words trailed off as she waved her hand at the side lawn.
Sebastian let out an aggravated breath. If he were alone—which was what he should have been—he’d have toddled back onto the lawn with a cheerful, “Coming through! Anyone who is not with a person to whom they have a legal obligation, kindly make yourself scarce!”
It would have been delicious. And precisely what society expected of him.
But impossible with an unmarried lady in tow.
“They are almost certainly gone,” he said, even as he approached the opening in the hedge and peered out. Turning back, he added, “And if not, they don’t want to be seen any more than you do. Put your head down and barrel through.”
“You seem to have a great deal of experience with such things,” she stated.
“A great deal.” Well, he did.
“I see.” Her jaw went stiff, and he suspected that if he were closer he could hear her teeth grinding together. “How fortunate I must be,” she said. “I’m being taught by a master.”
“Lucky you.”
“Are you always this horrid with women?”
“Almost never,” he said without thinking.
Her lips parted, and he felt like kicking himself. She hid it well—clearly, she was a young woman of quick emotional reflexes—but before her surprise turned to indignation, he saw a flash of unadulterated hurt.
“What I meant,” he began, not quite fighting the urge to groan, “is that when I…No. Whenyou …”
She looked at him expectantly. He had no idea what to say. And he realized, as he stood there like an idiot, that there were at least ten reasons why this was a wholly unacceptable scenario.
One:He had no idea what to say. This might seem repetitive, except thatTwo: He always knew what to say, andThree: especially with women.
Which led rather conveniently toFour: A happy by-product of his glibness wasFive: he’d never insulted a woman in his life, not unless she truly deserved it, whichSix: this woman didn’t. Which meant thatSeven: He needed to apologize andEight: He had no idea how to do so.
A facility with apologies would depend upon a propensity to behave in a manner requiring them. Which he did not. It was one of the few things in his life of which he was inordinately proud.