Chapter Nine
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Daunt’s kiss was every bit as expert as she’d imagined. His lips were soft, but the pressure of his mouth was firm, cajoling rather than insistent, which she found charming and stirring both. She’d been married, for heaven’s sake, none of this was new to her, but Daunt’s reputation for mastery in the art of seduction made her worry he would find her deficient. She was not the woman he’d secretly loved for so many years. She could never measure up to that paragon.
He was so different from Angus, many years younger, of course, and, well, he was Daunt. His arms tightened around her. Lord, but his kisses were stupefying. Her body responded wholeheartedly. She was used to Angus, and Daunt was taller and broader through the shoulders, and everything was different. Her entire life was changed without Angus. He’d taken her heart with him, yet here she was in another man’s arms and glad to be feeling alive.
He pressed one hand to the side of her throat. His fingers curled up and around to the back of her head. She relaxed against him and granted space to the desire snaking through her. The heaviness in her breasts, the aching need to be touched there, the shivery damp between her legs, all that she’d thought she’d lost when Angus died.
Daunt’s tongue moved into her mouth, and she responded, oh, how she responded. In kind, and from there, she lost her ability to do much besides react and marvel at the discovery that it was possible to feel like this again. His hand on the side of her throat stayed there, but there was just the slightest pressure. Bringing her forward, toward him.
Then he moved his other hand to the side of her face, and the most astonishing need continued to build in her. What was left of her wits whispered a warning not to make more of this than was warranted. He was a rake, and very good at it, a master of seduction, and it was too easy to mistake physical longing for something else.
He drew back, eyes closed, head tilted back. She ran a finger along the curve of his lower lip as she studied his face, so familiar to her, yet not at all. She brushed her finger along the line of his cheek. “Look at you. Such a lovely man.”
He turned his head and nipped at her finger.
“Please don’t apologize or say it was a mistake,” she said. “Even if you think it was.”
He ran his hands down her back all the way to her bottom, and her head filled with images of him naked—her admittedly fevered state supplied an astounding level of detail. “I do not kiss indiscriminately or without intention.”
“Never?”
His eyes darkened. “In my wild youth, yes.” He shook his head. “I wish Angus had shared less about me on that point. My youth is firmly behind me.”
“He made the remark in passing.”
“I wish I had spent more time with you and Angus.”
“You would have been welcome, you know that.”
“I know.” After several seconds, he said, “There are reasons I did not.”
“Oh?”
“Another time,” he said, still holding her close. “I’ll tell you another time.”
“It’s not as though I could not guess that ladies find you attractive and long to be in your embrace.”
“Do you? Long to be in my embrace?” Her stomach swooped away. He did know how this was done.
“Yes,” she said, because it was true.
“I am relieved,” he murmured. He bent his head and kissed the top of her shoulder, and that rocked her to her core.
His focus returned to her, and she melted against him. She didn’t care about tomorrow. As to the distant future when they were old and gray, well, she would have this memory to sustain her. “Kiss me again, please.”
He released her bottom and returned to kissing her, and she responded. Angus was gone, he was gone, she would give anything if he weren’t, but she wanted Daunt’s kisses. She wanted his arms around her, the warmth of his body, the shiver of increasing arousal. She’d been dead inside for too long, and he reminded her there was more than grief in her world. Being here, looking for the Dukes with him, had shown her that.
Presently, he leaned back. He toyed with the trim at the bodice of her gown. “I am between mistresses, by the way.”
“Am I to commend your abstinence or inquire whether the position is open?”
He kissed her on the mouth once, quickly. “You keep me honest.”
“Well, which is it?”
“Neither of us is an innocent. We are here in the midst of Accession Day at Vaincourt, the home of the Viscounts Daunt, where, I can assure you, all sorts of connections are made.”
“Do you mean to offer me the position on a temporary basis?”
“Are you interested?” he said with a wicked smile.
She laughed, and he kissed her shoulder again. His mouth was warm, one hand tight around her waist and holding her close, the other sliding along her collarbone.
Daunt put his mouth by her ear and whispered in tones that melted her resistance, “My love, are you interested?”
“You cannot possibly expect me to answer that question when I am nothing but a mass of desire.”
Abruptly, he stood and hauled her to her feet. She stood, dazed, thoroughly kissed, thoroughly aroused. He swept her into his arms and carried her to a sofa near the fireplace and the harp. He laid her down, braced a knee on the sofa, and stripped off his coat. He stretched over her and kissed her again, hard and fast.
Yes, she thought. This. She wanted him to keep her from thinking. She knew she made everything more complicated than necessary, even this, when passion ought to be the least complicated thing in the world.
He drew back and stared down at her. She did nothing when he took a handful of her skirts and pulled up. “I wish you were naked, but this will do.” He put his hand on her knee, and she relaxed to give him the view he wanted. “Lovely,” he said. His attention moved to between her legs, hungry, she thought. He looked at her as if he meant to devour her. Another shiver of arousal slid through her. This would happen. He would. And she would allow him.
“You’ll have to withdraw,” she said.
He nodded once and put his hands on his trousers’ fastenings. He pushed her knee to one side, and she committed every moment to memory, the intense awareness of her body, the longing, the uneasiness of the unfamiliar. As he slid his hand upward, she closed her eyes—as if that would change anything. His movement was gentle and confident, but when he reached the apex of her thighs, a moan escaped her lips.
The intensity of her reactions increased, most especially between her legs. The tips of his fingers slid over her, then pressed in. She was wonderfully wet and aroused. He stroked once, then again, and then he lowered himself and pressed his mouth to the inside of her thigh.
She tried to say something, but she could not recall her own name, let alone his.
In a low voice, he said, “Do you want me to stop?”
She shook her head.
“Not enough,” he said in that same low voice. “I need an answer from you.”
“Do not stop.”
He pressed his mouth to her thigh again. “I want to make you shiver with delight. Shall I?”
“Please, yes.”
He kissed her between her legs. There. Right there, and she surrendered to the sensations of her body. She opened herself to him and the pleasure of his mouth on her, and then her body peaked, and she was lost to physical sensations she hadn’t felt in far too long.
She lay back, racked, out of her mind with pleasure and lust, and she rested a hand on his shoulder. “More,” she said. “More.”
He settled himself over her, adjusted her skirts again, and slid inside her, and the sensation of his cock inside her, stretching her, inside her, Daunt was inside her, and he felt so bloody wonderful—she felt wonderful. Her breath hitched, and she lifted her hips toward his, and my God, my God. To be physically close to someone again brought tears to her eyes. She was beside herself with lust, out of her mind with pleasure. Tears welled up, stopping her breath.
“Hold me,” she said when she had the words. “Don’t let me go.”
“Never,” he said. He’d only just made her come, and she was about to again. His hips moved against hers, and he propped his hands on the sofa on either side of her head while he moved inside her. A hard thrust that she answered. He slowed, locking gazes with her.
“Magdalene. God, Magdalene, this is paradise.” He drew a trembling breath. “I… I adore you. I adore you.”