Untamed by Hope Tarr

kiss-swollen mouth shaking. “Take me home.” As much as she wanted to believe it was the cold air stinging her eyes and making them water, she owned the true cause: tears.
    He nodded. “I can be patient when I must. I’ll take you back to your father’s house—for now.” He slid a step closer and lifted her chin on the shelf of his battered knuckles. With his other hand, he used his big thumb to swipe the wetness from beneath her eyes. “But know this, my wild Kat. I mean to wed you and bed you and make you mine in every way. And once I do, my Katie girl, sure you’ll purr like a kitten in my arms and ne’er think to leave again.”

    Holding back by the stand of trees, the rider waited until Rourke and the tiny brunette remounted and turned their horses toward Hyde Park Corner. Once they had, she walked her rented gelding out toward the open track.
    Lifting off her man’s hat, Felicity Drummond shook out her head of flame-colored hair, sending pins flying. Ah, better. Given her height, dressing as a man didn’t present any undue difficulty, but she’d be damned if she’d cut her hair.
    Raking her bare hand through the tangles, Felicity allowed that for a supposed frosty-tit, Lady Katherine had exuded considerable sexual heat. The wagered-upon kiss had quickly become much more, until Felicity had wondered if the pair wasn’t halfway to rutting in the park. Watching them from her hideaway, the moist mouths and urgent hands and grinding hips, she’d felt her own cunt beginning to cream.
    But before she took care of Mother Nature, she must take care of business. Dutton and his friends wouldn’t like learning they’d lost the wager, but there was one other gentleman whom she knew for a fact would be most pleased. Lord Haversham couldn’t wait to see his crony’s meddlesome daughter married off, and if she was packed off to Scotland afterward, so much the better. Felicity had her doubts. More than doubts, she fully expected Haversham’s scheme to backfire, which was why she was so willing to help. That and because he was paying her, of course. Compromised or not, from what she’d heard of Lady Katherine, the shrew didn’t seem the sort to wed a man who’d made her a public laughingstock.
    Rourke might have come to London trolling for a well-bred wife, but Felicity was determined he would go back to Scotland empty-handed.
    Back to Scotland—and back to her.

    Kate left Rourke standing by the lamppost in front of the town house, the reins of both horses in his hands. He speared her with his determined gaze. “The next time I call on you, it will be to speak with your father.”
    Kate didn’t answer. She wasn’t certain what to say. Her brain bade her act in one way, and her body in entirely another.
    His hands found the tops of her shoulders; his gaze searched her face. He drew her to him, gently this time. It was as though her bones were made of butter, her spine a jellied eel. She had no will or desire to resist. Even after their harsh words in the park, she was as malleable as melting metal on an overheated forge.
    “My actions today may not have been honorable, Kate, but my intentions are. I meant what I said before. I want you for my wife.”
    Kate shook her head, her thoughts still in a fog. “I won’t marry you or anyone else.”
    The words lacked her usual conviction. She sounded almost as if she was trying to convince herself more so than him. But then she wasn’t herself, not really. The fever that had broken over her once they’d begun kissing had been unlike anything she’d ever before known or imagined. It wasn’t as though she’d limited herself to a brief ladylike peck. Like a child tasting her first chocolate treat, one small nibble hadn’t been nearly enough. The feel of his firm mouth moving upon hers had been an exquisite sensation, as had been the breadth and pressure of large, warm hands anchored to her hips, the heat from him searing the wool. How good his touch had felt,