Miss Grantham's One True Sin (The Regency Matchmaker Series Book 2) by Melynda Beth Andrews
Authors: Melynda Beth Andrews
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finger and let go, but he lingered, stroking the back of her hand with soft, slow circles of his thumb, his fingers warm against hers.
"Shall I put it on?" she asked, unable to keep a nervous flutter from her voice. Was he aware of what he was doing with his hand?
"My mother never took this ring off," he answered without letting go. "She loved the setting. Roses were her favorite. She always said that if she'd ever had a daughter, she would have given her the name Rose." He reached for her other hand and then rubbed both her palms with his fingertips. How could he not know what he was doing?
Gently, Marianna tried to pull her hand free. "I ... it ... under the circumstances, it seems improper to wear your mother's ring."
He shook his head. "Oh, but you must. It is a family heirloom. Our guests will expect you to be wearing my mother’s ring. They will think it exceedingly odd if you are not, just as they will think it odd if ... "
"If what, my lord?"
"If you try to pull your hands away when I touch them, as you are now."
"Oh!" So, he was not caressing her hand to express affection, he was simply making a point. Her cheeks flamed. She felt foolish for having thought, even for a second, that he had formed some sort of tendre for her.
"Our guests will also think it odd if you balk," he said, leaning toward her, "when I do” —he took her into his arms—"this." He kissed her.
Instantly, she stilled, but her mind was awhirl. Using her logical mind, she analyzed his movements, noting how he curled his arms behind her and drew her against him, how he slanted his mouth over hers and pressed gently. How he skimmed his hands over the flesh at the back of her neck and cradled her head. How his fingers dug into her hair, and how he began guiding her movements. She wondered how such a kiss would feel if she were not so unattractive, if the man kissing her really wanted to kiss her. She noticed his eyes were closed. Hers were not. Should they be? Yes. Elsewise, someone might notice . She shut her eyes, and then, realizing an observer might notice how very tense she was, she relaxed against him and did her best to kiss him back.
His breath was sweet, his lips surprisingly soft and warm. The thought occurred to her that if she stopped analyzing the kiss for a moment, it might be quite enjoyable.
She tried it
Focusing on his warm, soft lips, his sweet breath, and the way his mouth seemed to be coaxing hers, she sighed against him and allowed him to show her what to do.
He moaned.
Instantly, she set her hands against his chest and pushed away from him. He opened his eyes, and she was stunned by what she saw there. Desire! Every part of her—not the logical parts, but the feminine—confirmed it. True Sin wanted her! Wanted her in a physical, masculine way.
She stood and murmured something unintelligible even to her and fled.
She found herself in her chamber a few minutes later, not remembering the journey, the path she'd traveled, or even how long it had taken her to get there. She’d known from the beginning that nothing would be more convincing than to be “caught” kissing once or twice as all betrothed couples usually were. She had even planned on insisting they be seen kissing—though that part of her plan had become more and more uncomfortable for her to contemplate as time went on and she’d come to know the Viscount. Kissing a disinterested stranger was one thing, but kissing someone she’d come to respect and even admire was quite another. He’d become a friend.
A friend who actually wanted to kiss her?
Her mind worked furiously, sifting the logic from the frenzied feelings that mad kiss had conjured. Marianna had never been kissed before and did not have much experience with which to judge, but she was nevertheless certain that he’d done more than was strictly necessary to acclimate her to his touch. “Oh, you must be mad, Marianna!” she whispered. “There must be some other explanation for his
"Shall I put it on?" she asked, unable to keep a nervous flutter from her voice. Was he aware of what he was doing with his hand?
"My mother never took this ring off," he answered without letting go. "She loved the setting. Roses were her favorite. She always said that if she'd ever had a daughter, she would have given her the name Rose." He reached for her other hand and then rubbed both her palms with his fingertips. How could he not know what he was doing?
Gently, Marianna tried to pull her hand free. "I ... it ... under the circumstances, it seems improper to wear your mother's ring."
He shook his head. "Oh, but you must. It is a family heirloom. Our guests will expect you to be wearing my mother’s ring. They will think it exceedingly odd if you are not, just as they will think it odd if ... "
"If what, my lord?"
"If you try to pull your hands away when I touch them, as you are now."
"Oh!" So, he was not caressing her hand to express affection, he was simply making a point. Her cheeks flamed. She felt foolish for having thought, even for a second, that he had formed some sort of tendre for her.
"Our guests will also think it odd if you balk," he said, leaning toward her, "when I do” —he took her into his arms—"this." He kissed her.
Instantly, she stilled, but her mind was awhirl. Using her logical mind, she analyzed his movements, noting how he curled his arms behind her and drew her against him, how he slanted his mouth over hers and pressed gently. How he skimmed his hands over the flesh at the back of her neck and cradled her head. How his fingers dug into her hair, and how he began guiding her movements. She wondered how such a kiss would feel if she were not so unattractive, if the man kissing her really wanted to kiss her. She noticed his eyes were closed. Hers were not. Should they be? Yes. Elsewise, someone might notice . She shut her eyes, and then, realizing an observer might notice how very tense she was, she relaxed against him and did her best to kiss him back.
His breath was sweet, his lips surprisingly soft and warm. The thought occurred to her that if she stopped analyzing the kiss for a moment, it might be quite enjoyable.
She tried it
Focusing on his warm, soft lips, his sweet breath, and the way his mouth seemed to be coaxing hers, she sighed against him and allowed him to show her what to do.
He moaned.
Instantly, she set her hands against his chest and pushed away from him. He opened his eyes, and she was stunned by what she saw there. Desire! Every part of her—not the logical parts, but the feminine—confirmed it. True Sin wanted her! Wanted her in a physical, masculine way.
She stood and murmured something unintelligible even to her and fled.
She found herself in her chamber a few minutes later, not remembering the journey, the path she'd traveled, or even how long it had taken her to get there. She’d known from the beginning that nothing would be more convincing than to be “caught” kissing once or twice as all betrothed couples usually were. She had even planned on insisting they be seen kissing—though that part of her plan had become more and more uncomfortable for her to contemplate as time went on and she’d come to know the Viscount. Kissing a disinterested stranger was one thing, but kissing someone she’d come to respect and even admire was quite another. He’d become a friend.
A friend who actually wanted to kiss her?
Her mind worked furiously, sifting the logic from the frenzied feelings that mad kiss had conjured. Marianna had never been kissed before and did not have much experience with which to judge, but she was nevertheless certain that he’d done more than was strictly necessary to acclimate her to his touch. “Oh, you must be mad, Marianna!” she whispered. “There must be some other explanation for his
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