Authors: Nicole Jordan
Her involuntary surrender only increased Ash’s craving for her. Painfully aroused now, he felt a primal male
urge to take what he wanted—and an even stronger need to heighten her desire.
Still savoring her mouth, he slipped his fingertips below the edge of her bodice, delving under her chemise and corset, gliding against bare, silken skin.
Her resulting shiver filled him with satisfaction. Lightly brushing her hardened nipples with the back of his knuckles, Ash freed one luscious breast from her confining garments and bent down to taste her. When he flicked the taut rose-hued bud with his tongue, she gave a soft moan—an unmistakable pleasure-sound that made Ash suddenly recall their surroundings.…
Sweet hell
. He was getting so carried away that he was about to undress Maura Collyer right there in the garden, within shouting distance of three hundred ball guests.
Breathing heavily, Ash forced himself to draw back. In the rasping silence, Maura blinked up at him, looking dazed and dreamy-eyed.
“That is quite far enough, my lovely witch,” he murmured, his voice huskier than he would have liked.
His comment apparently broke the spell she was under, for her entire body gave a start. Yet Ash was forewarned and thus prepared for her next instinctive action. When Maura drew her fist back, he caught it and locked his fingers around her wrist to prevent her blow from landing painfully on his jaw.
“I should have known you would try to plant me a facer,” Ash said with a rueful smile. “And perhaps I deserved it.”
“No doubt you did.” Breathing hard herself, she jumped up from the bench and retreated a safe distance, looking both disconcerted and disgruntled as
she awkwardly covered her bosom. “I
told
you not to kiss me, Lord Beaufort,” she complained.
“No, you said I
cannot
kiss you, which is not at all the same thing. Telling a Wilde he cannot do something is like taunting a bull with a red cape.”
“How well I know it,” Maura admitted with a huff of annoyance. “Katharine is the same way. But I was not challenging you to prove your manhood, I promise you.”
“Perhaps I just couldn’t help myself,” he said with more honesty than was wise.
She raised her fingers to her lips, then shook her head in bewilderment. “Not for a moment do I believe you lacked self-control.”
“You should. I could not resist kissing you, Miss Collyer. You look very beautiful when you are in a towering rage. But I also wished to provide you a diversion and take your mind off Deering.”
“Now
that
I might credit.”
“My tactic worked, did it not?”
His question made her pause. “As a matter of fact, it did.” For a moment, Maura offered him a wondering, if fleeting, smile. Then she shook her head in exasperation. “You are utterly outrageous, Lord Beaufort.”
“So I have been told.”
“I always knew you were an infamous rogue, but I never suspected you to be as lecherous as Deering.”
“Good God, I should hope not.” Ash gave a mock shudder. Although he’d enjoyed his share of scandalous liaisons, he was hardly the libertine that Deering was.
Maura shook her head again, as if trying to corral her wits. “I suppose I should thank you. You were right—
I needed to remain out here in the gardens to cool off. But I am calm enough now. You needn’t concern yourself with me any further,” she added as she turned back toward the house.
“Where are you going?” he was surprised into asking.
“To find Katharine and take my leave of her.”
Ash was hard-pressed to explain his disappointment. “The night is still young. The ball has barely begun.”
Maura halted to glance over her shoulder at him. “I only came this evening so I could speak to my nemesis and implore him to sell my horse back to me. But since my attempt was an utter failure, there is no point in my remaining. I dislike balls almost as much as you do.”
She might have left him then, but when Ash remained seated, she hesitated. “Don’t you intend to return to the ball?”
“In a moment. Kissing you had an unfortunate effect on my anatomy. I need to cool off myself.”
Reflexively Maura glanced down at his loins, where the thick bulge in his satin knee breeches proclaimed his state of arousal. A becoming flush stained her cheeks as she evidently understood his meaning.
She opened her mouth to retort, but then apparently thought better of engaging him in a duel of words on such a subject as male arousal. Turning away again, she hurried along the path toward the terrace steps.
With a half-amused, half-pained grin, Ash braced his hands behind him on the bench. Tilting his head back, he gazed up at the dark sky in bemusement, contemplating the powerful effect Maura Collyer had on him.
He was immensely attracted to the deliciously spirited beauty. In fact, he hadn’t experienced so fierce a sexual attraction in years. He probably should not have kissed her, however, for now he knew exactly how she tasted.
Well, he’d wanted to enliven his evening, and his wish had been granted in spades. What intrigued him most, though, was why Maura had allowed him to embrace her so brazenly, even for those few short moments. He supposed he should be gratified by her reaction when he’d stroked her lovely breasts. When Deering had tried to fondle her, she’d fended off his advances by kneeing him in the groin.
Ash winced with wry amusement, realizing it was a good thing that she had been sitting down when he was driven to caress her.
Almost as intriguing as Maura’s momentary surrender was her admission that Katharine was a confederate in her battle against the viscount. Ash wanted to know exactly what role his sister was playing in the affair. If he knew Kate, she was cheerfully engaged in machinations.
One thing was for certain, he ruminated as he stood and readjusted his clothing to make himself presentable to his guests: He intended to have a serious discussion with his meddlesome younger sibling as soon as her tiresome ball ended.
Fearing that her heated flush still showed, Maura bypassed the crowded ballroom with its resplendent denizens of the ton and went directly to the entrance hall, where she requested that Lady Katharine’s carriage
be brought around and that a footman be sent to summon her friend.
Then Maura waited impatiently at one side of the entryway, pondering the inexplicable question of why she had allowed Lord Beaufort to sweep her away as she had. Even though he had warned her in advance of his audacious intentions, she’d sat frozen with disbelief at his sensual assault, unable to utter a protest, much less extricate herself.
Unconsciously Maura raised her fingers to her still tingling lips as she relived the marquis’s stunning kiss.
He tastes like sin
had been her first dazed thought. Enticing, wicked sin.
He had devastated her senses, to the point that she had practically melted in his arms. No wonder women whispered with awe about Beaufort’s skills as a lover. She had never understood the word
desire
until that moment.
He’d rendered her dizzy, weak with yearning, making her breasts feel heavy and swollen while kindling a strange ache between her thighs. And then the sensual caress of his tongue on her nipple had shocked her with pleasure.…
Thank heaven he had stopped before she’d surrendered completely to his brazen lovemaking!
Maura found herself wincing in memory of her idiocy. It should not have surprised her, though, that Katharine’s dashing older brother knew how to seduce with breathtaking effect. The Marquis of Beaufort was a favorite of the ton, admired by both sexes, the darling of matchmaking mamas despite his scandalous behavior and his well-founded reputation as a captivating Lothario.
Handsome did not begin to describe him … roughly chiseled features, dark unruly hair, eyes that were the vivid color of emeralds. All five cousins in the extraordinary Wilde family were notorious for their bewitching charm, but as aristocratic rogues went, Ashton was the acknowledged champion.
Yet Maura couldn’t help wondering why Lord Beaufort had bothered kissing her this evening. He’d claimed his motives were altruistic, that he merely wanted to help release her pent-up anger, but he had never looked twice at her before tonight.
His impact on
her
had been overwhelming. One moment she was seething with frustration, railing on about her nemesis; the next she was speechless with desire.
She’d been kissed twice in her life—several years ago during her comeout Season, in fact—and neither occasion had been particularly memorable. Certainly not enthralling, as tonight’s episode had been. Moreover, she couldn’t comprehend why she had craved Beaufort’s touch so desperately when Lord Deering’s had only repulsed her.
And why had she permitted the marquis to drag her pitiful tale of woe from her? Normally she would never dream of spilling her intimate secrets to a nobleman she knew more from his wicked reputation than his female relatives’ rare confidences. It was mortifying enough that he had witnessed her altercation with Deering.
Maura was highly vexed at herself for finding Lord Beaufort so irresistibly attractive. She ought to be worrying about how to retrieve her cherished stallion from the clutches of a devious viscount instead of
dwelling on a spellbinding kiss like a dazzled widgeon. She wished Katharine would come—
No sooner had the thought formed when her friend appeared in the entrance hall, obviously searching for her.
Garbed in a ball gown of emerald green to match her sparkling eyes and highlight her shining auburn hair, Lady Katharine Wilde was the picture of vibrant beauty.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Maura stepped forward.
“How did your meeting go with Deering?” Katharine asked at once, which made Maura grimace.
“Truthfully, it was a disaster …” Quickly she recounted the viscount’s ignominious proposition and her own wrathful response.
Kate looked outraged on her behalf, but immediately protested Maura’s decision to quit the ball early.
“But you cannot leave just yet!” she insisted.
“There is no point in my remaining,” Maura repeated the argument she’d made to Katharine’s provocative older brother. “But you know I am immensely grateful for all you have done, dearest Kate. I will return your lovely dress tomorrow.”
Katharine had loaned her the ball gown of amber silk, since she had nothing fine enough to wear to a grand ball and little money to waste on fashion in any case. Additionally, Katharine had sent her own carriage to collect Maura from her stepmother’s house, since Maura only had a gig in London and no coachman. She loved Katharine dearly, like a sister, but she still felt uncomfortable having to accept her generosity. No doubt it was pride that made her want to be independent and stand on her own two feet.
At the mention of the ball gown, Kate gave a dismissive shrug, then suddenly changed the subject. “What about Ash?”
“What about him?” Maura responded warily.
“I saw him follow you outside onto the terrace. And you remained out there with him for aeons. What happened between the two of you?”
“Nothing happened,” she lied.
“Then why is your face so flushed? Come now, Maura. I know you too well.”
She sighed, knowing her friend would never give up until her curiosity was appeased. “Your brother kissed me, if you must know,” she confided in a low voice.
Rather than look startled, however, Katharine smiled slowly in satisfaction. “And how did you like it?”
“What does that matter?” Maura asked in exasperation.
“Because I want to know.”
The heat in her cheeks increased. “I liked kissing him very well,” she finally admitted, although not even under pain of death would she confess that she’d been far more intimate with the marquis than a mere kiss.
“You don’t say.” Kate clasped her hands together in delight. “This is even better than I hoped.”
Maura’s gaze narrowed on her best friend. “Katharine Wilde, what in deuces are you talking about? Please tell me you did not invite me here to throw me in your brother’s path. You did not,
did you
?”
“Well, perhaps I did, a little.”
“That is perfectly
ridiculous
—”
“I disagree, darling Maura. I think you and Ash may be meant for each other.” Before Maura could sputter
an objection, Katharine hurried to add, “In any event, Ash is the very man to help you get your horse back.”
“No, he is
not
. I can manage on my own.”
“No doubt, but you should not have to. You know Skye and I are your family. You claimed us years ago.”
That much was true, Maura allowed. Upon being sent off to boarding school by her stepmother when she was twelve, she’d arrived at the Ingram Academy for Young Ladies shortly before Katharine and her cousin, Lady Skye Wilde, who was a year younger. The Wilde girls had been orphaned by then, having lost both sets of beloved parents in a tragic accident at sea, and Maura had befriended them at once.
At that point in her young life, she was feeling terribly alone and lonely herself, and when she’d heard Skye crying softly in her bed late one night, grieving her loss and missing her remaining family—her older brother Quinn and her cousins Jack and Ashton—Maura had promptly declared that
she
would be Skye and Katharine’s family. The three girls had made a pact then and there, a bond that had only grown stronger over the following years as they shared the tribulations and joys of school days and holidays together; then as young ladies negotiating the uncertain waters of society debuts; and afterward, as they moved into full-fledged womanhood, which fostered new dreams and aspirations for each of them.
When Maura made no reply, Katharine pressed her. “Promise me you will at least discuss the matter with Ash when he calls on you tomorrow.”
“How do you know he will call on me?”
“Because I intend to make him.”
Maura raised her eyes to the gilded ceiling. “Katharine, you know I love you like a sister—”
“Then trust me, Maura. You know I only have your best interests at heart.” Hearing a swell in the music, Kate glanced over her shoulder. “I should return to the ball. I have a great deal of convincing to do tonight.”