never assisted a man with such a familiar task, and her mind buzzed with unexpected
exhilaration of doing something so forbidden. If her mother knew—Lord, anything about tonight—she’d never recover. It was just another secret of this night that
she would forever be forced to keep from everyone, including Kate.
After doing the same with the second boot, she averted her gaze while he changed his
breeches for a pair of loose trousers, catching only the flash of bare skin out of
the corner of her eye. And perhaps one stolen glance of a well-muscled hip and chiseled
torso.
Daphne closed her eyes tight, knowing she would never forget this terrifying and thrilling
night. That while she regretted placing herself in such danger, and had never before
been so frightened in her life…she would forever hold these moments close. And when
she was an old maid, living a life filled with nieces and nephews and quiet evenings
in her room alone, she would fashion fantasies from these memories.
“Kate?”
She started, realizing he spoke to her, and opened her eyes to find him studying her
with amusement.
“You won’t put on those clothes as long as I’m in this carriage, will you?”
“Of course not.”
Again, he smiled, and everything inside her melted because she knew he would do the
right thing. Indeed, he rapped a fist against the roof. Immediately, the carriage
swayed, changing directions and decreasing speed. Cormack perched at the edge of the
bench, as if prepared to exit. But then—
He moved toward her, a shadow in the night, until he half-crouched, half-knelt with
his hands planted on either side of her legs. Her heart raced, and she breathed him
in, savoring his scent and his heat. Gray eyes stared straight into hers.
Her pulse jumped wildly, taken over by a dark and pleasurable desire for a stranger.
Against all good sense she liked him this close, with his attention fixed so intently
on her.
“Cormack,” she whispered.
He kissed her suddenly, catching her mouth slightly open. Before she realized, she’d
leaned into him, kissing him back with fervent eagerness. His tongue slipped inside
her mouth, something that ought to have shocked her but instead felt completely natural.
She sighed, and touched her tongue to his, too. Oh, how sweet and warm he was, inside
and out. Who needed dry clothes and a fire, when there was kissing?
He chuckled low in his throat.
She froze. Why did he laugh? Had she done something wrong?
She very well might have, because she’d never kissed a man, unless one counted young
David Waddington from the neighboring estate, when they’d both been just twelve. It
had been a hurried, sloppy affair with neither of them knowing what they were doing.
Her brother, Vinson, had caught them behind the hedge and given David a fat nose,
but refused even under intense interrogation to tell their father, the viscount, why.
On the contrary, Cormack clearly knew his way around a kiss. With a slant of his head,
he kissed her more deeply, easing her backward into the cushions and thrilling her
with the confident glide of his tongue over her upper teeth. With each brush of his
lips, each warm breath into her mouth, the invisible velvet cord that ran along the
center of her body tightened and quivered. Her toes curled into the cushion.
He exhaled and murmured near her ear, “Sorry—I couldn’t help myself.”
And apparently she couldn’t, either, but something told her to keep that to herself.
The same something held her silent, preventing her from begging for more. Her upraising,
she knew, and the expectation of her family and society that she would always behave
as a lady.
His face hovered near her cheek, but he did not kiss her. He gave her an opportunity,
she realized, to reject him, to protest. The moment lasted only that long—a moment—before
he bent a few inches more and nuzzled the side of her neck, just below her
exhilaration of doing something so forbidden. If her mother knew—Lord, anything about tonight—she’d never recover. It was just another secret of this night that
she would forever be forced to keep from everyone, including Kate.
After doing the same with the second boot, she averted her gaze while he changed his
breeches for a pair of loose trousers, catching only the flash of bare skin out of
the corner of her eye. And perhaps one stolen glance of a well-muscled hip and chiseled
torso.
Daphne closed her eyes tight, knowing she would never forget this terrifying and thrilling
night. That while she regretted placing herself in such danger, and had never before
been so frightened in her life…she would forever hold these moments close. And when
she was an old maid, living a life filled with nieces and nephews and quiet evenings
in her room alone, she would fashion fantasies from these memories.
“Kate?”
She started, realizing he spoke to her, and opened her eyes to find him studying her
with amusement.
“You won’t put on those clothes as long as I’m in this carriage, will you?”
“Of course not.”
Again, he smiled, and everything inside her melted because she knew he would do the
right thing. Indeed, he rapped a fist against the roof. Immediately, the carriage
swayed, changing directions and decreasing speed. Cormack perched at the edge of the
bench, as if prepared to exit. But then—
He moved toward her, a shadow in the night, until he half-crouched, half-knelt with
his hands planted on either side of her legs. Her heart raced, and she breathed him
in, savoring his scent and his heat. Gray eyes stared straight into hers.
Her pulse jumped wildly, taken over by a dark and pleasurable desire for a stranger.
Against all good sense she liked him this close, with his attention fixed so intently
on her.
“Cormack,” she whispered.
He kissed her suddenly, catching her mouth slightly open. Before she realized, she’d
leaned into him, kissing him back with fervent eagerness. His tongue slipped inside
her mouth, something that ought to have shocked her but instead felt completely natural.
She sighed, and touched her tongue to his, too. Oh, how sweet and warm he was, inside
and out. Who needed dry clothes and a fire, when there was kissing?
He chuckled low in his throat.
She froze. Why did he laugh? Had she done something wrong?
She very well might have, because she’d never kissed a man, unless one counted young
David Waddington from the neighboring estate, when they’d both been just twelve. It
had been a hurried, sloppy affair with neither of them knowing what they were doing.
Her brother, Vinson, had caught them behind the hedge and given David a fat nose,
but refused even under intense interrogation to tell their father, the viscount, why.
On the contrary, Cormack clearly knew his way around a kiss. With a slant of his head,
he kissed her more deeply, easing her backward into the cushions and thrilling her
with the confident glide of his tongue over her upper teeth. With each brush of his
lips, each warm breath into her mouth, the invisible velvet cord that ran along the
center of her body tightened and quivered. Her toes curled into the cushion.
He exhaled and murmured near her ear, “Sorry—I couldn’t help myself.”
And apparently she couldn’t, either, but something told her to keep that to herself.
The same something held her silent, preventing her from begging for more. Her upraising,
she knew, and the expectation of her family and society that she would always behave
as a lady.
His face hovered near her cheek, but he did not kiss her. He gave her an opportunity,
she realized, to reject him, to protest. The moment lasted only that long—a moment—before
he bent a few inches more and nuzzled the side of her neck, just below her
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