no victor between them, for the fire engulfing their senses would only be vanquished in a mutual release.
Her breasts rose and fell with her ragged breathing. His hands plied the gentle curves until his thumbs grazed back and forth over the tender tips.
He watched her lashes flutter, listened to the soft moan escaping her lips. Her hips pushed against his groin, seeking and demanding more.
Reaching for her skirts, he pulled at them, pulling them up so he could find the treasured place hidden beneath. Meanwhile her hands pulled at his breeches, anxious in their need to free him as well.
The moment he touched the silken flesh of her thighs, he stopped. His hand fell away, and he pulled himself back from her trap. “This is wrong,” he said, more for his own benefit than hers. “I will not do this.”
She stepped toward him, a wry smile on her face. “I’ll be gentle with you. There’s no need to fear me.”
No need to fear her? Was this how she’d led Webb to his death? Teasing the younger man to his own destruction. “I neither fear you, madame, nor do I want you. Not now. Not ever.”
She tipped her head and stared at him, her gaze puzzled. “I would beg to differ, and if you’ll come to your senses you’ll see I mean you no harm. Come back to me, Lord Trahern.” She held her arms out to him, beckoning him to step back into her trap.
What had he been thinking to let the situation get this far? That was just it—he hadn’t been thinking.
Somewhere outside voices rose in argument.
She glanced at the window. “You seem to have more company. Your bride perhaps?”
The interruption below continued.
“He’s taken me baby, I tell you. Give ‘um back,” a woman wailed.
Giles heard Keenan’s smooth voice trying to calm the situation.
“I assure you, madame. His Lordship does not have your baby,” the butler repeated.
“But I saw him take me little one.” The woman’s voice rose to a piercing level, verging on hysteria. “He snatched ‘um from the cradle, he did. I wants me little baby back.”
Ignoring the exasperated sigh from his companion, Giles went to the window, opened it, and looked down to the street. On his steps stood a poorly dressed man and a woman, her face twisted with incoherent grief. She alternately pulled at her hair and dress with both hands.
When Keenan began to back into the house, she pitched herself at his feet, clutching his ankles.
“I won’t let you have me little Johnny. Give ‘um back. It’s not fair. I want ‘um back.”
Her companion, probably her husband, stepped forward, his badly patched jacket marking him for a poor laborer. From his jerky movements Giles could tell he was both mortified and afraid of this unseemly outburst.
“Come away there, luv,” he was saying as he caught the distraught woman by the waist and tried to pull her free of Keenan.
Suddenly she broke away and dashed inside. Giles stepped away from the window.
“Stealing children, as well?” the lady at his side commented, her fingers brushing up and down his sleeve in an attempt to guide him back to her passionate trap. “You’ve had a busy night.”
The wailing and crying downstairs grew in volume.
Giles looked at the closed door and then back at his captive. She smiled at him, her lips swollen from his kisses. Whatever he’d been feeling a few minutes before faded, as his anger over Webb’s death resurfaced.
Dryden would be here soon, and he didn’t need half of London in his house when his superior arrived.
He walked to the door and unlocked it. Turning to his captive, he looked back at her. She’d seated herself on top of his desk, her stocking-clad feet wiggling back and forth in the air.
“You won’t be long, will you?” She winked at him. “I do so hate to be kept waiting.”
Something like a growl rolled up from his chest. Her voice invited him to return to her arms, but this time the angelic tones fell flat on his ears, chilling his senses. How could he
Her breasts rose and fell with her ragged breathing. His hands plied the gentle curves until his thumbs grazed back and forth over the tender tips.
He watched her lashes flutter, listened to the soft moan escaping her lips. Her hips pushed against his groin, seeking and demanding more.
Reaching for her skirts, he pulled at them, pulling them up so he could find the treasured place hidden beneath. Meanwhile her hands pulled at his breeches, anxious in their need to free him as well.
The moment he touched the silken flesh of her thighs, he stopped. His hand fell away, and he pulled himself back from her trap. “This is wrong,” he said, more for his own benefit than hers. “I will not do this.”
She stepped toward him, a wry smile on her face. “I’ll be gentle with you. There’s no need to fear me.”
No need to fear her? Was this how she’d led Webb to his death? Teasing the younger man to his own destruction. “I neither fear you, madame, nor do I want you. Not now. Not ever.”
She tipped her head and stared at him, her gaze puzzled. “I would beg to differ, and if you’ll come to your senses you’ll see I mean you no harm. Come back to me, Lord Trahern.” She held her arms out to him, beckoning him to step back into her trap.
What had he been thinking to let the situation get this far? That was just it—he hadn’t been thinking.
Somewhere outside voices rose in argument.
She glanced at the window. “You seem to have more company. Your bride perhaps?”
The interruption below continued.
“He’s taken me baby, I tell you. Give ‘um back,” a woman wailed.
Giles heard Keenan’s smooth voice trying to calm the situation.
“I assure you, madame. His Lordship does not have your baby,” the butler repeated.
“But I saw him take me little one.” The woman’s voice rose to a piercing level, verging on hysteria. “He snatched ‘um from the cradle, he did. I wants me little baby back.”
Ignoring the exasperated sigh from his companion, Giles went to the window, opened it, and looked down to the street. On his steps stood a poorly dressed man and a woman, her face twisted with incoherent grief. She alternately pulled at her hair and dress with both hands.
When Keenan began to back into the house, she pitched herself at his feet, clutching his ankles.
“I won’t let you have me little Johnny. Give ‘um back. It’s not fair. I want ‘um back.”
Her companion, probably her husband, stepped forward, his badly patched jacket marking him for a poor laborer. From his jerky movements Giles could tell he was both mortified and afraid of this unseemly outburst.
“Come away there, luv,” he was saying as he caught the distraught woman by the waist and tried to pull her free of Keenan.
Suddenly she broke away and dashed inside. Giles stepped away from the window.
“Stealing children, as well?” the lady at his side commented, her fingers brushing up and down his sleeve in an attempt to guide him back to her passionate trap. “You’ve had a busy night.”
The wailing and crying downstairs grew in volume.
Giles looked at the closed door and then back at his captive. She smiled at him, her lips swollen from his kisses. Whatever he’d been feeling a few minutes before faded, as his anger over Webb’s death resurfaced.
Dryden would be here soon, and he didn’t need half of London in his house when his superior arrived.
He walked to the door and unlocked it. Turning to his captive, he looked back at her. She’d seated herself on top of his desk, her stocking-clad feet wiggling back and forth in the air.
“You won’t be long, will you?” She winked at him. “I do so hate to be kept waiting.”
Something like a growl rolled up from his chest. Her voice invited him to return to her arms, but this time the angelic tones fell flat on his ears, chilling his senses. How could he
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