When Love Comes Calling: Two Short Stories by Samantha Kane Page A

your dark hair gleaming in the moonlight, I imagined you in my bed, that hair spread across my pillows as I ruthlessly made you mine.”

Chapter 2
    “… a s I ruthlessly made you mine.”
    Lethbridge’s words ran through Clari’s mind yet again as she waited impatiently next to Minda several weeks later. She’d seen him often since then, at dinner parties, balls and other entertainments. Once at a rout that was terribly crowded he’d somehow managed to get her lost from her mother and he’d dragged her into a small linen closet and kissed her.
    He kissed as ruthlessly as he pursued her, as ruthlessly as he promised to possess her. He hadn’t bothered with tenderness in spite of her innocence. He’d ravished her mouth with lips and teeth and tongue. His bites had left her lips swollen and red, just short of bleeding, and his tongue learned every corner of her mouth until she had no secrets left. Then he’d stolen her breath, her very thoughts, as his tongue thrust with an insistent rhythm that even inexperienced as she was, she recognized. One hand had gripped her hip while the other found her breast, shaping it firmly and rubbing his thumb over the hard, aching point of her nipple through the thin muslin of her dress. She had moaned in desperation and nearly cried with unfulfilled passion when he’d pulled away roughly and dragged her out of the closet without a word, bringing her back to her mother and departing with a bow.
    He had called on her after the rout. He’d been cool and charming, introducing her to his friend Mr. Benford. Mr. Benford was another male work of art, and the two were like gorgeous bookends on the settee, one dark and dangerous, and one light and, well, dangerous. The air around them had shivered with sexual energy. Clari had done a little shivering as well, remembering Lethbridge’s kiss, longing for more, and still befuddled by the attentions of men such as they. Several times after that Lethbridge had called with Mr. Benford, or Mr. Benford had accompanied the viscount to balls or parties.
    Lethbridge sent her flowers every day. Her mother was in raptures. Suddenly wherever Clari went she was in demand. The gentlemen, young and old, flocked to her side, intent on discovering just what Lethbridge saw in her. Several had made extremely inappropriate advances. When Clari rebuffed them they’d made it clear that most of the ton assumed Lethbridge had already taken her innocence. There had even been veiled references to Mr. Benford, which had taken Clari by surprise. She hardly knew the man, and he had not been pursuing her as Lethbridge had.
    The viscount had sent a note that afternoon indicating he would be at the Duke of Tremont’s ball this evening. He knew she planned to attend. So now she stood here doing what she’d once sworn she’d never do—pine for the presence of a particular man. But what a man. Surely no one could fault her for her fascination. He was witty, charming, sophisticated and handsome. And the fact that he seemed equally fascinated with her made her weak in the knees, another first for her. They liked the same books, he actually listened to her opinions on politics, and she frequently caught him looking at her like a delectable dessert.
    Clari’s foot began to tap impatiently as she paid no heed whatsoever to the conversation of the gentlemen surrounding her and Minda. Where could he be?
     
    Dom entered the ballroom with a sense of excitement and expectation, which was unusual for him. For the first time in his life he looked forward to spending time with a woman out of bed. She made him laugh, and he admired her practicality and even her reformer Whig political opinions. He planned to spirit Clari away from prying eyes tonight and explain exactly what his interest in her was. With Ben’s help he was going to see if this infatuation and desire he had for her could possibly be more. But first he had to make sure she was aware of his sexual appetites. It would