A Wild Pursuit

A Wild Pursuit by Eloisa James Page B

Book: A Wild Pursuit by Eloisa James Read Free Book Online
Authors: Eloisa James
Ads: Link
this time; he took, and she gave. And it wasn’t like all the other times, when she’d tolerated a moment or two of this kind of kissing. The Puritan’s kiss was dark and sweet and savage all at once. It sent quivers through her legs and made her strain to be closer. His hands moved down her back, assured, possessive. In a moment he would bring them around to her front, and her breasts were aching for…
    That was the thought that woke Bea. She hadn’t been thinking of grappling in the field when she’d dressed in the morning. These particular breasts weren’t meant to withstand a man’s hand. There was more cotton than flesh. She tore her mouth away, gasping, and stared at him. She didn’t even think about giving him a seductive glance. She was too stunned.
    â€œI like you when you’re like this,” he said, and there was that sweetness to his eyes again. He reached out and rubbed a splatter of mud from her cheek. “You look rain-washed and very young. Also rather startled. It seemed to me that you’ve been inviting kisses. Was I wrong?”
    â€œNo,” she said, trying hard to think what to say next. All her practiced seductive lines seemed to have fled from her head.
    â€œAlas,” he said, even more gently, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I can hardly offer marriage to a woman half my age. So I’m afraid that I shall have to leave your kisses, sweet though they are, to some younger man.”
    Bea’s mouth almost fell open. Marriage? Didn’t he know who she was? “I don’t want—” she began, but her voice was hoarse. She stopped. “As it happens, I am not interested in marriage either,” she said quite sedately. “I find that I am, however, very interested in you .” She twisted forward and kissed his lips, a promise of pleasure. And she was absolutely honest about that. With him, there would be no boundaries.
    But it was he who pulled back. She had been so sure he would lunge at her that she’d smiled—but the smile faded.
    He was a Puritan. His eyes had gone cold, dark, condemning. “I thought you played the lusty trollop for fun.”
    She raised her chin. “Actually, no,” she said, and she was very pleased to find her tone utterly calm and with just a hint of sarcasm. “I play myself.”
    â€œYourself? Do you even know who you are, under all that face paint?”
    â€œI assure you that I do.”
    â€œYou play a part you needn’t,” he said, eyes fixed on hers. “You are young and beautiful, Beatrix. You should marry and have children.”
    â€œI think not.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œYou simply want to make me like everyone else,” she said sharply. “I like wearing macquillage. I would rather not look like myself, as you put it. And I find it incalculably difficult to imagine myself sitting by the fire wearing a lace cap and chattering about my brood of children.”
    â€œI think yourself is beautiful. All your paints have washed away at the moment. You never needed them.”
    â€œI didn’t say I needed them. I enjoy them,” she retorted, and then added, deliberately, “just as I occasionally enjoy the company of a man in my bedchamber.”
    For a moment they just looked at each other, Puritan to trollop. “Am I to understand that you are not interested in taking a mistress?” she asked, meeting his eyes. She was no child to be whipped by his condemnation.
    â€œActually, I am,” he said. “But I have little interest in one so…practiced.”
    Bea got to her feet, shaking out her skirts. Then she bent over and picked up her mangled spencer, shaking it out and folding it over her arm, taking a moment to make absolutely certain that her face wouldn’t reveal even for a second what she felt.
    â€œI have often noticed that men of your years seem to overprize naiveté,” she replied

Similar Books

Hunters of Gor

John Norman

Twin Threat Christmas

Rachelle McCalla

Sons of Fortune

Jeffrey Archer