Come the Night (The Dangerous Delameres - Book 1) by Christina Skye

those glowing cheeks and changeable eyes. Away from that sweet clear lavender scent and the full lips that left him yearning to pull her close and—
    “Enough!”
    “You agree, then?”
    “Of course I don’t! The idea is mad. And I must be mad for listening!”
    Silver stared at him for a moment, then her hands clapped together. “I have it now. You’re worried about me. You think I won’t be able to take care of myself. But, you’re wrong. I have a great deal of experience with men, I assure you.”
    Her words were slurred, he noticed. What had she been drinking in that bloody glass? “I see. And that’s how you know about these — er, manly passions you spoke of earlier.”
    “Certainly.”
    “These urges you spoke of. All men have them?”
    “I believe so.”
    “Myself included?”
    She had the grace to flush. “I don’t see why not.”
    “In that case,” Blackwood said, smiling darkly as she walked right into his trap, “how do you know I won’t follow those dark inclinations and ruin you in truth?”
    For the merest instant something sad and haunted slipped through her eyes. “I don’t know, not for certain. But last night on the heath, you could have hurt me or robbed me and yet you didn’t.”
    Blackwood’s throat tightened. She had no idea what she was dealing with. He was cold and ruthless and the sooner she knew it the better. “And you think that makes me reliable or kind?” Blackwood’s face was hard and shadowed in the light of the dancing candles. “You’ve known a lot of men, have you?”
    “Oh, hundreds of them,” Silver said airily.
    “And I suppose you allowed them free rein.” His face was going harder by the second. “To kiss you — and take other kinds of liberties…”
    “Only the ones I liked,” she said scrupulously.
    “What about me?”
    “Oh, I don’t like you,” Silver said frankly. “I simply need you.”
    “There’s plain speaking.” The highwayman strode closer, his lips hard. “But you’ve asked me to ruin you. To do that a man needs—”
    Those damnably luminous eyes widened. “A man needs what?”
    It was too much.
    The next moment she was crushed against him, and his hands were buried in her burnished hair. Blackwood thought she would stiffen or scream or pull away. Hell, he was praying that she would.
    But she didn’t. She just stared up at him, her eyes questioning, her lips parted. Soft with wonder.
    It was a devastating combination for a man who hadn’t known softness or wonder in a very long time.
    “Don’t look at me that way,” he growled.
    “But I owe you my life. I believe I would accord you anything you asked of me,” the woman in his arms said softly.
    There was a frankness about her that robbed him of breath. Sweet Lord, she really meant it. The door was locked. They were in a place where no one would question her screams. In short, he could do anything he cared to with her.
    And there she stood, offering him just that. Blackwood could think of roughly a hundred places where he’d like to start.
    For one, he’d strip off that ugly black gown so he could see the skin he knew would be as soft as her scent. Then he’d taste the dimple at her cheek. After that, he’d slide lower, running his tongue over the full breasts that thrust against the black fabric and made him so hot that he—
    He pulled back, his jaw tense. “It’s impossible. Forget it.”
    “I’m sorry I kicked you. Damnable temper, y’ see. Got it from my father,” Silver whispered.
    “I daresay I’ll survive.”
    She swayed slightly and gave a faint hiccup. “I’m sorry about your accident with the musket too. Must have been terrible. I can understand how it would make you lose your trust in people.”
    She meant it, the innocent fool.
    Blackwood stared down at her, a pulse hammering at his jaw. She was standing in the most notorious house of vice in Kingsdon Cross, captive in the arms of the county’s most nefarious criminal, and she was worrying