A Night to Surrender by Tessa Dare Page B

closure of her glove. They drove him mad with desire, these prim satin sheaths, with their endless stretches of buttons and arrow-straight seams. As matters stood, she could barely contain all that natural passion. What would happen when the gloves came off?
    He loosed the top button with a flick of his thumb.
    “Lord Rycliff,” she said hoarsely.
    “Bram,” he corrected, undoing another. “After a kiss like that, you must call me Bram.”
    “Bram, please . . .”
    “With pleasure.” He kissed her lips again, sliding his fingers beneath the unbuttoned satin.
    Her hands slid to his chest, and she pushed, hard.
    “Lord Rycliff. Please .”
    The desperate catch in her voice surprised him. He glanced down to find her wearing an expression of distress, her bottom lip quivering. Her eyes were downcast.
    Bram immediately found himself missing them. If he’d spent so much time thinking of her eyes, it must be because in their every interaction, she’d met his gaze directly. Unapologetic and undaunted. Until now.
    Damn, and here he was certain she’d been enjoying this. He wasn’t the sort to press himself on an unwilling woman.
    “Susanna?” He reached to capture her chin, tilt her face to his. Her gaze was wide and pleading in the dark, and his heart gave a strange kick. Within him, lust and honor warred. He wanted her, yes. But he wanted to protect her, too. He wondered briefly if that meant he was a hypocrite.
    No, he decided. It just meant he was a man.
    “I . . .” Her lips parted, as though she would speak. Which would mean he needed to listen. He struggled to quell the bloodlust coursing through his veins, so he could make out her words over the mad pounding of his heart.
    “My father,” she breathed.
    Her father.
    His gut wrenched, and he released her at once. There it was, the instant cure for his lust. Somehow, for a solid, disastrous minute, he’d managed to forget Sir Lewis Finch entirely. His late father’s good friend. A national hero. The man who held Bram’s fate in his hands. How could he have possibly forgotten?
    The answer was simple. Once he’d made the decision to kiss Susanna, really kiss her . . . He simply hadn’t possessed the space in his brain or his arms or his heart to hold anything but her.
    That kiss had been all-consuming. And it could not, would not happen again.
    “Oh my God,” she muttered, smoothing her upswept hair. “How did this happen?”
    “I don’t know. But it won’t happen again.”
    She threw him a look, sharp as cut sapphires. “Of course it won’t. It can’t .”
    “You need to stay far clear of me. Keep your distance.”
    “Goodness, yes.” Her words were a fevered rush. “Plenty of distance. I’ll stay far away from you. And you keep your men separate from my ladies, do you understand?”
    “Perfectly. It’s a bargain, then.”
    “Good.” Her trembling fingers worked to refasten her gloves.
    “Can I help with that?”
    “No,” she said sharply.
    “Do you . . .” He cleared his throat. “Do you plan to tell your father?”
    “About this ?” She looked up at him, horrified. “Heavens, no. Are you mad? He must never hear of this.”
    A wave of emotion pushed through him, gone before he could name it. Profound relief, he supposed. “It’s just, you mentioned him. Earlier.”
    “I did?” She frowned. “I did. Don’t speak to my father, that’s what I meant to say. Not about today, not about anything. When he proposed this militia scheme, I thought it just a bit of show, but seeing all this . . .” Her gaze turned to the rows of weaponry. “Please don’t include him. He may want to be involved, but you mustn’t allow it. He’s aging, and his health isn’t what it once was. I’ve no right to demand anything of you, but I must ask this.”
    He didn’t know how to refuse. “Very well. You have my word.”
    “Then you have my thanks.”
    And that was all he had of her. For with those few words, she turned and fled.
    T