Noble Destiny by Katie MacAlister Page B

application of his manly instrument. Her breasts suddenly, of their own accord and certainly without her permission, chafed in their stays, sensitized, heavy with the need to be stroked by his hands.
    â€œMy lord?”
    Her breath caught in her throat, her nipples hardened and clamored for Dare’s touch, joining a veritable cacophony of cries for attention from numerous other parts of her body. She wanted his hands on her flesh, touching her, warming her, easing the ache that he started so deep inside her. She wanted it all, and she wanted it right at that moment. She took a step toward him. His eyes glittered darkly as he moved toward her, making a soft noise deep in his chest that answered the look in her eyes.
    â€œDare!”
    â€œMy lady!”
    Two outraged voices cried out at the same time, breaking the spell. Dare frowned. Charlotte stepped back, her body crying out in silent frustration. She ordered her body to cease its lamentings and promised it that fulfillment would come next Wednesday night. “Perhaps sooner,” she mused, her eyes once more on the banded muscles of Dare’s arms. His fingers twitched in response.
    â€œYou see, Dare, Lady Charlotte is quite overcome by your uncouth appearance,” Patricia said as she tugged Charlotte back toward the lumpy settee. “Come and sit next to me, Lady Charlotte, and we shall excuse my brother while he puts himself to rights.”
    Charlotte opened her mouth to say that wasn’t in the least bit necessary or desired, but Dare had evidently remembered the reason for his returning.
    â€œI have been working on my engine,” he said to Charlotte by way of an explanation, “and I shall return to that just as soon as you explain this.”
    He held out her list of locations and guests.
    â€œYour suggestions were unacceptable. You are an earl. I am the daughter of an earl, and the widow of the heir to a count. We cannot have our wedding in a small, poky church. Where would all the guests sit?”
    â€œWhich brings me to the subject of your guest list,” Dare growled.
    Charlotte gave him a triumphant smile. “The selection of wedding guests, Alasdair, is the bride’s prerovative.”
    â€œPrerogative, and that right is revoked when the groom is paying for the whole bloody thing, as Batsfoam informs me I am.”
    â€œDare!” Patricia cried.
    Charlotte jumped up from the settee and lifted her chin at him.
    â€œSince you have no dowry, and no family to pay for the wedding, you will practice the utmost economy and organize it to my scriptures. Strictures ,” he corrected himself. “Good God, your tongue is contagious!”
    â€œThere’s nothing wrong with my tongue,” Charlotte snapped, at her limit for being insulted and yelled at. “Which you’d know if you took the time to kiss me. You didn’t even do so when you offered for me, you beastly man, you!”
    â€œYou were wearing a beard,” he snarled, stepping closer to her, the air around them both growing heated once again.
    â€œWell, I’m not now,” she answered, taking a step toward him.
    â€œFine!” he roared.
    â€œFine!” she agreed, her hands fisted, prepared to do more than poke him in the bare part of his chest if he didn’t do the proper thing by her. She didn’t have time to think of just what she’d do to his chest before his mouth took possession of hers.
    â€œDare! You can’t!”
    â€œMy lord!”
    â€œLady Charlotte, you mustn’t!”
    â€œMy lady!”
    â€œOh, Batsfoam, do something!”
    â€œShort of warming up his lordship’s bed, I am at a loss as to what you’d have me do, miss.”
    â€œBatsfoam!”
    Charlotte ignored both of them, ignored the voice in her head telling her that virtuous women did not encourage men to kiss them, ignored reason and common sense and gave herself up to the pure, hot magic of Dare’s