Read Online Firelight by Kristen Callihan - Free Book Online

never wise to tempt the devil.” His gaze lowered to her hand, still locked in his grip, her fingers glistening with pear juice. His rich voice lowered to raw huskiness. “Had I not this mask, I should be of a mind to suck that juice right off your fingers.”

Chapter Six
     

     
    G ood Lord, what had she done? Miranda cursed herself for such high-handed stupidity as Archer abruptly announced that dinner was over and led her from the room. She had goaded the man into looking at her as a woman. And on her wedding night, of all times. What had she been thinking?
    She knew what was to happen on a wedding night; only the enjoyment of sparring with Archer had made her forget all that. Until now. The urge to run the other way was strong. She dared a glance at him, catching a glimpse of one large shoulder, the wide expanse of his chest. She had flirted with him, she realized with chagrin. More than flirted, thrown down the gauntlet, really. Why had she done that? Attraction. Her steps bobbled before she brought herself under control.
    Daisy had warned her once that attraction of a physical nature had no rhyme or reason. One might be inexplicably swept off one’s feet by a short, bald man of twenty stone and not be able to ignore it. Such things called to the animal inside a person, not the mind. Miranda had laughed and asked Daisy with whom she was keeping company.
    Damnation, she wasn’t laughing now. True, his frame was attractive, and he was good company, but there was the mask to consider. What was he beneath it? Did it matter?
    No, it did not, because they were now before her door, and she had no recourse but to face her fate.
    Archer blinked down at her for a moment as though just as unsure.
    “I forgot to ask,” he said, breaking the heavy silence. “Are your rooms to your liking?”
    The tightness in her shoulders relaxed a fraction. “They are utterly lovely.” Her large set of rooms included a sitting area by the fire, enormous dressing room, and modern bathing room. Elegant, palatial, yet cozy, they were something out of a dream. “Thank you, Archer.”
    He nodded slowly. “And the color?”
    She smiled, thinking of the golden damask-papered walls, furniture dressed in ivory silk, with ivory cashmere drapes to keep out the cold. “Ivory and gold.” She glanced up at him, finding his gaze inscrutable. “I’ve always longed for a room decorated as such. How did you know?”
    “Luck, perhaps.” His voice lowered. “Or perhaps I had a vision of you sleeping in a bed of cream and gold…” Archer’s gaze traveled over her like a caress. “I would love to see you thus.”
    Her mouth went dry, and he took a step closer. Miranda gripped the door handle tight enough to feel the skin stretch over her knuckles. His hand closed over hers, heavy and warm, even through the thickness of his glove. With an unwavering gaze, he slowly turned the handle, and the door’s lock snicked open.
    Archer bent closer, and her knees bobbled. For a moment they simply stood still, the air between them a palpable thing, buzzing and heated. She stared at the folds of his black cravat, the sound of her life’s blood roaring in her ears. His body did not touch hers but she felt the hardened length of it as though the nerve endings along her skin were directly attached to his by little hooks that tugged with sweet pain.
    His broad chest lifted in exhalation, and her breath caught it in return. Lord, he was big, and strong, and delicious smelling. It was an ineffable clean scent, yet it consumed her, making her mouth water and her head spin. She took another ragged breath, and a burst of heat flared over her skin and settled between her legs. Her fingers tightened on the handle. Common sense was crumbling like old ruins. Good lord, she was going mad.
    A pained sound left him as he came a hair closer. Her inner thighs clenched. Only inches away, he stopped, his body visibly stiffening. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she swayed.