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Authors: Máire Claremont
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risk everything to get what she claimed she wanted. And his mouth. His mouth was the tempting gate to hell.
She wouldn’t like the feel of his lips. And with the straps, it wasn’t as if he could clasp her to him and force her into his embrace. She’d be able to control their kiss.
She studied his soft mouth.
So much lay in this kiss. His freedom, which despite his aggravating ways, she wished for him. And for his father. Her own ability to live out a good life’s work. To save her brother’s life.
What could it cost her? Just a touch of the lips?
Slowly, perfunctorily, she placed her palms on either side of his broad shoulders, her palms flat on the rough mattress. The movement left her breasts feeling oddly exposed, despite the layers of undergarments and her high-cut bodice. She found as she leaned down that she could not kiss him without her torso meeting his.
In small tugs of fabric, her firm bodice caught against his shirt. Wicked heat seared from his flesh through the layers of her gown and underthings. Her breath suddenly caught against her throat as her breasts pressed into his hardness. Not the hardness of any man she’d ever met, but that of a god tossed down to earth for his sins.
She lingered above him, considering. Considering how different his body was from hers. And then she lowered her mouth to his.
She was quite ready to slip a quick kiss, but as her lips met his, she gasped. Soft and rough at once, his kiss stole her into some wild, beautiful place.
It was as if the mere touch of his lips could capture her entirely. Gentle, undemanding, giving, his mouth worked slowly below hers, and suddenly she found herself doing the unthinkable. She was kissing him back.
Delight bloomed deep within her, burning her skin into some sort of enlightened state, and she opened her mouth in shock.
And then there was the touch of his velvet tongue teasing the corner of her mouth. Urging her, easing her into a world she’d never imagined existed. Certainly not between them.
Then very slowly, he turned his head and kissed her cheek and feathered more kisses along her jaw.
She couldn’t move, but rather remained suspended above him, lulled by his hypnotic skill.
“Yes,” he whispered, his voice a dark rumble against her throat. “I will marry you.”
Chapter 6
T he doctors were not pleased. She could sense it in their cold, masculine stares, which suggested no woman could ever be as intelligent or capable as they. Their sneering words trailed through her head.
Highly inadvisable. Unlikely to recover. Unwise. A woman’s hysterical impulse.
She’d listened to it all with the earl at her side and weathered every last insult . . . as had done his lordship. Neither of them had yielded, resulting in her present transport of Powers from his cell to the offices so that he might be discharged. If Powers hadn’t been a lord or hadn’t had the powerful protection of his father, she had little doubt he wouldn’t have been released at all.
A familiar sense of anxiety crept through her. It had been there all her life, but she’d learned to tamp it down. To temper it so no one could see she was concerned or that anything had shaken her.
Despite this, as she and two keepers escorted James down the dank halls, his hands bound before him, she felt a growing concern. Would the doctors truly let him go? They had to. No choice. For even if they outright declared him insane, with his father’s title, Powers could be taken into private keeping. So there was no need for her present feelings. It was just the recesses of a childish concern that filtered up through her from time to time, and she could never let anyone see it. No. She had to be seen as calm and sure, lest others think her an emotional woman.
“Eh, lass.”
She cringed. She was used to the disrespect paid to her in such situations. It seemed men hated women in any sort of authority. And to give attention to it only worsened it.
“Pick up your
She wouldn’t like the feel of his lips. And with the straps, it wasn’t as if he could clasp her to him and force her into his embrace. She’d be able to control their kiss.
She studied his soft mouth.
So much lay in this kiss. His freedom, which despite his aggravating ways, she wished for him. And for his father. Her own ability to live out a good life’s work. To save her brother’s life.
What could it cost her? Just a touch of the lips?
Slowly, perfunctorily, she placed her palms on either side of his broad shoulders, her palms flat on the rough mattress. The movement left her breasts feeling oddly exposed, despite the layers of undergarments and her high-cut bodice. She found as she leaned down that she could not kiss him without her torso meeting his.
In small tugs of fabric, her firm bodice caught against his shirt. Wicked heat seared from his flesh through the layers of her gown and underthings. Her breath suddenly caught against her throat as her breasts pressed into his hardness. Not the hardness of any man she’d ever met, but that of a god tossed down to earth for his sins.
She lingered above him, considering. Considering how different his body was from hers. And then she lowered her mouth to his.
She was quite ready to slip a quick kiss, but as her lips met his, she gasped. Soft and rough at once, his kiss stole her into some wild, beautiful place.
It was as if the mere touch of his lips could capture her entirely. Gentle, undemanding, giving, his mouth worked slowly below hers, and suddenly she found herself doing the unthinkable. She was kissing him back.
Delight bloomed deep within her, burning her skin into some sort of enlightened state, and she opened her mouth in shock.
And then there was the touch of his velvet tongue teasing the corner of her mouth. Urging her, easing her into a world she’d never imagined existed. Certainly not between them.
Then very slowly, he turned his head and kissed her cheek and feathered more kisses along her jaw.
She couldn’t move, but rather remained suspended above him, lulled by his hypnotic skill.
“Yes,” he whispered, his voice a dark rumble against her throat. “I will marry you.”
Chapter 6
T he doctors were not pleased. She could sense it in their cold, masculine stares, which suggested no woman could ever be as intelligent or capable as they. Their sneering words trailed through her head.
Highly inadvisable. Unlikely to recover. Unwise. A woman’s hysterical impulse.
She’d listened to it all with the earl at her side and weathered every last insult . . . as had done his lordship. Neither of them had yielded, resulting in her present transport of Powers from his cell to the offices so that he might be discharged. If Powers hadn’t been a lord or hadn’t had the powerful protection of his father, she had little doubt he wouldn’t have been released at all.
A familiar sense of anxiety crept through her. It had been there all her life, but she’d learned to tamp it down. To temper it so no one could see she was concerned or that anything had shaken her.
Despite this, as she and two keepers escorted James down the dank halls, his hands bound before him, she felt a growing concern. Would the doctors truly let him go? They had to. No choice. For even if they outright declared him insane, with his father’s title, Powers could be taken into private keeping. So there was no need for her present feelings. It was just the recesses of a childish concern that filtered up through her from time to time, and she could never let anyone see it. No. She had to be seen as calm and sure, lest others think her an emotional woman.
“Eh, lass.”
She cringed. She was used to the disrespect paid to her in such situations. It seemed men hated women in any sort of authority. And to give attention to it only worsened it.
“Pick up your
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