Read Online To Distraction by Stephanie Laurens - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Stephanie Laurens
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behind her decisions and the actions that flowed from them, remained largely hidden. Despite his facility for reading others, what Phoebe was thinking remained a mystery.
And she was sufficiently unusual to make relying on extrapolating from his extensive experience of other ladies unwise.
For one of his ilk, that was a trifle disconcerting. Managing—manipulating—a woman whose thought processes were screened from him was a significantly more difficult task. One fraught with the potential for failure, yet with Phoebe he didn’t intend to fail.
But with her he was reduced to guessing. He didn’t think she’d changed her mind over entertaining any marriage proposal. He didn’t think she’d yet decided to take up his alternative approach to persuading her into matrimony, his suggestion of an informal relationship, but he thought— hoped —she was considering it.
He stirred and walked to her, halting with just a foot between them, behind her and to one side. The view before them was magnificent; they looked down on the manor in its grounds, and far beyond to field and river, to gently undulating hills that stretched away to the purple-tinged horizon.
Dipping his head, he glanced at her face. He hid a smile at the light frown etched between her brows; she wasn’t thinking of the fields and river.
They were very much alone yet theoretically in public, the perfect setting in which to indulge in a little persuasion.
His lips curved; straightening, he gave in to temptation. Lifting one hand, with one finger he touched—just touched—the fine curls caressing her nape. The silky curls brushed her skin; he didn’t.
She shuddered. Her hands gripped the rail more tightly, then she dragged in a breath and shot him an irritated glance. “Stop that!”
He met her gaze only briefly, then returned his attention to her nape. “Why?” Before she could answer, he looked back and trapped her gaze. “Didn’t you like it?”
For a telltale moment, honesty held her tongue, but then she freed it and her blue eyes snapped. “No!”
He grinned but lowered his hand. And shifted fractionally closer, tilting his head so their gazes were closer to level, so he could study her face and she could study his.
She eyed him warily, her grip on the rail rigid.
He smiled genuinely. “Breathe.”
She blinked, and did. Rather tightly.
“If you faint, I’ll have to catch you, hold you—perhaps even carry you back to the house.”
Her eyes widened and locked with his. “I don’t faint.”
He didn’t answer; instead, he slowly lifted his hand and cupped her nape. Lightly, not forcefully, but that was all it took. She shivered again, unable not to, unable to quell her reaction to his touch.
The realization sent a shaft of unadulterated lust spearing through him.
She closed her eyes, tried to stiffen her spine; as his fingers and palm firmed, she dragged in a breath and held it.
Every instinct he possessed urged him to tighten his grasp and draw her to him, draw her lips to his and simply take possession.
His muscles tensed to do so; he shifted a fraction nearer.
Her lids flew up; her eyes locked with his.
He froze. Confusion tinged with a species of fear ran riot in her lovely eyes, swamping her burgeoning desire.
The sight stopped him as nothing else could have; he instantly eased his hold, forced the muscles in his arm torelax. He didn’t take his palm from her nape; instead, he lightly, soothingly stroked, as he would a skittish horse.
The analogy was apt; studying her eyes, he knew—could see—that he was going too fast. She was barely breathing; once again she was inwardly quivering. She was unawakened, untouched; she was immobilized by his nearness—if she’d been free, she would have bolted.
She was twenty-five; he couldn’t believe she’d never been kissed. Yet this degree of reaction, of panic…
Her reaction to him was unusually intense, as was his reaction to her. While that attracted him even more,
And she was sufficiently unusual to make relying on extrapolating from his extensive experience of other ladies unwise.
For one of his ilk, that was a trifle disconcerting. Managing—manipulating—a woman whose thought processes were screened from him was a significantly more difficult task. One fraught with the potential for failure, yet with Phoebe he didn’t intend to fail.
But with her he was reduced to guessing. He didn’t think she’d changed her mind over entertaining any marriage proposal. He didn’t think she’d yet decided to take up his alternative approach to persuading her into matrimony, his suggestion of an informal relationship, but he thought— hoped —she was considering it.
He stirred and walked to her, halting with just a foot between them, behind her and to one side. The view before them was magnificent; they looked down on the manor in its grounds, and far beyond to field and river, to gently undulating hills that stretched away to the purple-tinged horizon.
Dipping his head, he glanced at her face. He hid a smile at the light frown etched between her brows; she wasn’t thinking of the fields and river.
They were very much alone yet theoretically in public, the perfect setting in which to indulge in a little persuasion.
His lips curved; straightening, he gave in to temptation. Lifting one hand, with one finger he touched—just touched—the fine curls caressing her nape. The silky curls brushed her skin; he didn’t.
She shuddered. Her hands gripped the rail more tightly, then she dragged in a breath and shot him an irritated glance. “Stop that!”
He met her gaze only briefly, then returned his attention to her nape. “Why?” Before she could answer, he looked back and trapped her gaze. “Didn’t you like it?”
For a telltale moment, honesty held her tongue, but then she freed it and her blue eyes snapped. “No!”
He grinned but lowered his hand. And shifted fractionally closer, tilting his head so their gazes were closer to level, so he could study her face and she could study his.
She eyed him warily, her grip on the rail rigid.
He smiled genuinely. “Breathe.”
She blinked, and did. Rather tightly.
“If you faint, I’ll have to catch you, hold you—perhaps even carry you back to the house.”
Her eyes widened and locked with his. “I don’t faint.”
He didn’t answer; instead, he slowly lifted his hand and cupped her nape. Lightly, not forcefully, but that was all it took. She shivered again, unable not to, unable to quell her reaction to his touch.
The realization sent a shaft of unadulterated lust spearing through him.
She closed her eyes, tried to stiffen her spine; as his fingers and palm firmed, she dragged in a breath and held it.
Every instinct he possessed urged him to tighten his grasp and draw her to him, draw her lips to his and simply take possession.
His muscles tensed to do so; he shifted a fraction nearer.
Her lids flew up; her eyes locked with his.
He froze. Confusion tinged with a species of fear ran riot in her lovely eyes, swamping her burgeoning desire.
The sight stopped him as nothing else could have; he instantly eased his hold, forced the muscles in his arm torelax. He didn’t take his palm from her nape; instead, he lightly, soothingly stroked, as he would a skittish horse.
The analogy was apt; studying her eyes, he knew—could see—that he was going too fast. She was barely breathing; once again she was inwardly quivering. She was unawakened, untouched; she was immobilized by his nearness—if she’d been free, she would have bolted.
She was twenty-five; he couldn’t believe she’d never been kissed. Yet this degree of reaction, of panic…
Her reaction to him was unusually intense, as was his reaction to her. While that attracted him even more,
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