and his she could feel the heat of the embrace. Her hand shook slightly, but he didn’t release it. He slowly bent over and kissed her wrist—kissed it, not just a polite bow, but an actual pressing of his lips against her. The tremors deep within her intensified. As he rose from his bow his eyes caught hers and the look simmered with hunger. Clari was shocked, titillated and bemused. What on earth? Surely he wasn’t interested in her?
“Miss Welliston, would you care to take a turn about the room with me?” the viscount asked, his demeanor pleasant while at the same time quite determined. He looked deferentially at Clari’s mother beside her.
“Oh yes, Clari dear, do go on with the viscount,” her mother quickly urged, a hand on her arm shoving her up. The avaricious delight on her face made Clari inwardly cringe.
“Of course, my lord,” Clari said more forcefully than necessary as she yanked her arm from her mother’s grip, “I’d be delighted.” She glared at her mother before turning a composed countenance to the viscount, who raised a single brow, not even trying to hide his amusement. He took Clari’s hand and placed it on his arm and she nearly groaned out loud. Good God, he was firm and sleek with muscle under his evening clothes. At the thought, Clari could feel the first drop of slick cream slip out of her sex and rub along the suddenly swollen and sensitive lips there. It gave a turn about the room a new, erotic thrill it had never had before.
Viscount Lethbridge kept one hand over hers on his arm. His thumb ran seductively along the length of her fingers as they strolled to the edge of the crowd, nodding here and there to acquaintances. They didn’t speak to one another until they were walking sedately around the room’s perimeter, as far from the crowd as possible. It lent their stroll a false sense of privacy—all eyes could see them, but few ears could hear them. Clari knew their path was a deliberate one and wondered what the viscount could have to say that required this level of privacy.
“I have been searching for you, Miss Welliston, for this week past,” he began quietly, his thumb stroking, stroking over her fingers and the back of her hand until she thought she’d go mad. Instead she smiled benignly at Minda in the crowd, who was staring and gesturing wildly, clearing wanting to know what was going on.
“Have you, my lord? I can’t imagine why. I am not difficult to find.” Her heart was racing. A week. What had happened a week ago to bring her to his attention? She’d never met him before tonight, she was sure of it.
She sensed his amusement and was unable to resist the urge to glance at him. She did so out of the corner of her eye and caught him doing the same. She quickly looked away, but not before noting the approval in his gaze.
“No questions as to why?” he asked. The path of his thumb shifted so that he was outlining her fingers, spreading them apart on his arm so that he could ravish the tender, sensitive skin between them with the heat and press of his thumb. Even through the lace of her glove it was overwhelmingly sensual. Clari’s breath caught in her chest.
“Why?” she managed to ask, though her voice sounded breathless.
“I saw you at Merwell’s, there in the trees.” His statement left a great deal out, but Clari’s memory filled in the blanks. If he’d seen her he must have been close, and that meant he’d heard what the young men were saying. She felt her face flame with embarrassment.
“And you wished to find out for yourself what a piglet stuffed with money would look like?” She was proud of her even tone.
“Hardly,” he drawled. “I have no desire to lay with pork, and I am stuffed with pounds enough of my own.”
At his response Clari lost her composure. Her eyes flew to his in startled shock. “Lay with…” she gasped.
His grin was feral and frighteningly arousing. “Oh, yes, Miss Welliston. When I saw your generous form,
“Miss Welliston, would you care to take a turn about the room with me?” the viscount asked, his demeanor pleasant while at the same time quite determined. He looked deferentially at Clari’s mother beside her.
“Oh yes, Clari dear, do go on with the viscount,” her mother quickly urged, a hand on her arm shoving her up. The avaricious delight on her face made Clari inwardly cringe.
“Of course, my lord,” Clari said more forcefully than necessary as she yanked her arm from her mother’s grip, “I’d be delighted.” She glared at her mother before turning a composed countenance to the viscount, who raised a single brow, not even trying to hide his amusement. He took Clari’s hand and placed it on his arm and she nearly groaned out loud. Good God, he was firm and sleek with muscle under his evening clothes. At the thought, Clari could feel the first drop of slick cream slip out of her sex and rub along the suddenly swollen and sensitive lips there. It gave a turn about the room a new, erotic thrill it had never had before.
Viscount Lethbridge kept one hand over hers on his arm. His thumb ran seductively along the length of her fingers as they strolled to the edge of the crowd, nodding here and there to acquaintances. They didn’t speak to one another until they were walking sedately around the room’s perimeter, as far from the crowd as possible. It lent their stroll a false sense of privacy—all eyes could see them, but few ears could hear them. Clari knew their path was a deliberate one and wondered what the viscount could have to say that required this level of privacy.
“I have been searching for you, Miss Welliston, for this week past,” he began quietly, his thumb stroking, stroking over her fingers and the back of her hand until she thought she’d go mad. Instead she smiled benignly at Minda in the crowd, who was staring and gesturing wildly, clearing wanting to know what was going on.
“Have you, my lord? I can’t imagine why. I am not difficult to find.” Her heart was racing. A week. What had happened a week ago to bring her to his attention? She’d never met him before tonight, she was sure of it.
She sensed his amusement and was unable to resist the urge to glance at him. She did so out of the corner of her eye and caught him doing the same. She quickly looked away, but not before noting the approval in his gaze.
“No questions as to why?” he asked. The path of his thumb shifted so that he was outlining her fingers, spreading them apart on his arm so that he could ravish the tender, sensitive skin between them with the heat and press of his thumb. Even through the lace of her glove it was overwhelmingly sensual. Clari’s breath caught in her chest.
“Why?” she managed to ask, though her voice sounded breathless.
“I saw you at Merwell’s, there in the trees.” His statement left a great deal out, but Clari’s memory filled in the blanks. If he’d seen her he must have been close, and that meant he’d heard what the young men were saying. She felt her face flame with embarrassment.
“And you wished to find out for yourself what a piglet stuffed with money would look like?” She was proud of her even tone.
“Hardly,” he drawled. “I have no desire to lay with pork, and I am stuffed with pounds enough of my own.”
At his response Clari lost her composure. Her eyes flew to his in startled shock. “Lay with…” she gasped.
His grin was feral and frighteningly arousing. “Oh, yes, Miss Welliston. When I saw your generous form,
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