Read Online Stolen Kisses by Suzanne Enoch - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Suzanne Enoch
Ads: Link
you dare—”
“Shh,” he chastised, putting his finger over her lips.
Lilith looked at him, startled at the touch, then slapped his hand away. She turned to stalk back out of the bushes, then heard Wenford on the other side of the gazebo—where he would have a clear view of her if she departed. When she turned around again, Dansbury was still watching her, his expression speculative.
“You truly don’t want Old Hatchet Face’s attentions,” he said.
“That is none of your concern,” she snapped as loudly as she dared.
He shrugged. “Then I shall depart,” he told her, turning to walk away.
“Don’t you dare leave me to follow you out of here, as though we’ve been up to something,” she hissed.
He stopped and looked over his shoulder at her. “You request my company, then?”
“I didn’t ask you to drag me into the shrubbery, and I won’t have myself ruined over it.” She narrowed her eyes. “But that’s your intention, no doubt.”
The marquis returned to stand in front of her, pursing his lips. “If I were trying to rain you, we would both be wearing fewer clothes.”
“Hah,” she scoffed, trying not to blush. “Is this one of the subtle seductions you are teaching my brother? Ifear, then, that he is doomed to celibacy.”
Unexpectedly, Dansbury chuckled. “If you disbelieve my pure, good-hearted intentions, Miss Benton, then leave.”
“I will. As soon as you look and see whether His Grace is still there.”
With a slight bow, the marquis turned and parted the branches. “He’s still there, lecturing Greeley. Looks as though that idiot’s been wading in the fountain again.”
“Again?” she repeated. Lilith craned her neck to see over his shoulder, and instead caught herself studying the lean, rugged line of his jaw. When he looked back at her, his eyes seemed genuinely amused, the cynicism for once missing.
“Greeley seems to end up in some pool of water or other at least twice a Season. He is something of a toad, though, so I suppose it’s not all that surprising.”
Greeley was somewhat frog-eyed, and a corner of her mouth quirked. “That’s not amusing.”
Dansbury contorted his face into an expression of mortified dismay. “Oh, my, is Greeley a seventh suitor of yours? I had no idea. Please, let me tender my most sincere apol—”
“He is not a suitor,” she said, beyond impatience. “And neither are you, my lord.”
“But I can think of nothing but your heavenly smile,” he protested, the picture of innocence as his own deucedly attractive smile touched his mouth, “and tasting your sweet lips. How can you so callously banish me from your heart?”
“I am surprised you have any place for thoughts of me at all, with the amount of time you spend pursuing hazard, faro, port, and brandy,” she retorted, unsettled. Not even Lionel had dared suggest he thought aboutkissing her. The evening’s fireworks began close by, and she jumped at the sudden noise.
He laughed again, softly, and reached out to straighten the blue shawl draped across her shoulders. His fingers were warm even through his gloves as they brushed the base of her throat, and her pulse leapt in response. “You exaggerate. I almost never drink brandy.”
“And this is supposed to redeem you, you scoundrel?” she countered in her most hostile voice.
“One can only hope.” He took a step toward her, so only a few scant inches separated them. A white cascade of glittering light lit the night above his head and made his eyes sparkle. “Do you mean there is no charity in your heart for a poor, misguided soul such as myself?”
“You’ve guided yourself astray,” she informed him, backing up, “and my poor brother, as well.” Her thoughts and her wits seemed to have scattered, and she fought to keep an affronted expression on her face.
“Then he is safe,” the marquis murmured, “for my path leads straight back to you.”
That was what she was afraid of. She should simply turn
“Shh,” he chastised, putting his finger over her lips.
Lilith looked at him, startled at the touch, then slapped his hand away. She turned to stalk back out of the bushes, then heard Wenford on the other side of the gazebo—where he would have a clear view of her if she departed. When she turned around again, Dansbury was still watching her, his expression speculative.
“You truly don’t want Old Hatchet Face’s attentions,” he said.
“That is none of your concern,” she snapped as loudly as she dared.
He shrugged. “Then I shall depart,” he told her, turning to walk away.
“Don’t you dare leave me to follow you out of here, as though we’ve been up to something,” she hissed.
He stopped and looked over his shoulder at her. “You request my company, then?”
“I didn’t ask you to drag me into the shrubbery, and I won’t have myself ruined over it.” She narrowed her eyes. “But that’s your intention, no doubt.”
The marquis returned to stand in front of her, pursing his lips. “If I were trying to rain you, we would both be wearing fewer clothes.”
“Hah,” she scoffed, trying not to blush. “Is this one of the subtle seductions you are teaching my brother? Ifear, then, that he is doomed to celibacy.”
Unexpectedly, Dansbury chuckled. “If you disbelieve my pure, good-hearted intentions, Miss Benton, then leave.”
“I will. As soon as you look and see whether His Grace is still there.”
With a slight bow, the marquis turned and parted the branches. “He’s still there, lecturing Greeley. Looks as though that idiot’s been wading in the fountain again.”
“Again?” she repeated. Lilith craned her neck to see over his shoulder, and instead caught herself studying the lean, rugged line of his jaw. When he looked back at her, his eyes seemed genuinely amused, the cynicism for once missing.
“Greeley seems to end up in some pool of water or other at least twice a Season. He is something of a toad, though, so I suppose it’s not all that surprising.”
Greeley was somewhat frog-eyed, and a corner of her mouth quirked. “That’s not amusing.”
Dansbury contorted his face into an expression of mortified dismay. “Oh, my, is Greeley a seventh suitor of yours? I had no idea. Please, let me tender my most sincere apol—”
“He is not a suitor,” she said, beyond impatience. “And neither are you, my lord.”
“But I can think of nothing but your heavenly smile,” he protested, the picture of innocence as his own deucedly attractive smile touched his mouth, “and tasting your sweet lips. How can you so callously banish me from your heart?”
“I am surprised you have any place for thoughts of me at all, with the amount of time you spend pursuing hazard, faro, port, and brandy,” she retorted, unsettled. Not even Lionel had dared suggest he thought aboutkissing her. The evening’s fireworks began close by, and she jumped at the sudden noise.
He laughed again, softly, and reached out to straighten the blue shawl draped across her shoulders. His fingers were warm even through his gloves as they brushed the base of her throat, and her pulse leapt in response. “You exaggerate. I almost never drink brandy.”
“And this is supposed to redeem you, you scoundrel?” she countered in her most hostile voice.
“One can only hope.” He took a step toward her, so only a few scant inches separated them. A white cascade of glittering light lit the night above his head and made his eyes sparkle. “Do you mean there is no charity in your heart for a poor, misguided soul such as myself?”
“You’ve guided yourself astray,” she informed him, backing up, “and my poor brother, as well.” Her thoughts and her wits seemed to have scattered, and she fought to keep an affronted expression on her face.
“Then he is safe,” the marquis murmured, “for my path leads straight back to you.”
That was what she was afraid of. She should simply turn
Similar Books
