muscles expanding, the too-rapid beating of his heart.
His knee slipped between her legs, brushing the inside of her thigh, and she told herself to push him away, that what he was doing was wrong, but her hands remained on his chest and the throbbing of her pulse matched the heavy cadence of his.
Something shifted in the air between them. His hard mouth softened, the rough kiss gentled, turned coaxing instead of demanding. His lips were firm yet pliant, giving now instead of taking, as soft as she had imagined, warm and strong, yet somehow oddly tender.
Heat rolled through her, settled low in her belly, spread like warm honey through her limbs. It was a sin, she knew. Nicholas Warring was a married man. He was a rake with a dozen mistresses, a man who took whatever woman he wanted then grew bored and brutally cast them away.
It was wrong, but it didn't feel wrong at all.
Nicholas groaned and pressed her more fully against him, into his heat, the power of his solid frame. She felt the rigid hardness of his desire, but instead of pulling away, her arms slid around his neck and her fingers laced into his wavy black hair.
A small sound came from her throat and Nicholas shuddered. For an instant he deepened the kiss and her whole body burned. Then suddenly he went still. His heart was thundering, his tall lean frame nearly rigid. Clasping her wrists, he carefully freed himself and took a step away. His expression was dark and unreadable, as if the fire she had seen in his eyes had been banked for another day.
"Go back to the house," he said, his voice low and harsh. "Do it now, Elizabeth, and don't come out here alone again."
Elizabeth didn't argue. Her lips still tingled from his kiss; her legs felt wobbly and numb. She managed a faint nod in his direction, turned and raced back toward the house.
This time the fear pumping through her had nothing to do with Bascomb or his men.
S IX
N ick paced the floor of his bedchamber. For the third time within the hour, he paused beside the window overlooking the garden. On the ground below, anemones, pansies, and tulips had begun to bloom in bright shades of purple, yellow, and pink. Color streamed along every walkway, yet Nick found himself thinking how bleak it all looked without Elizabeth there to enjoy it.
Three days had passed since he had banned her from her favorite place of refuge. It wasn't fair, he knew. It was his fault the men had been able to breach his defenses. He had underestimated his opponent yet again.
Nick looked down from the window. From his vantage point above the garden walls, he could see the men Elias had hired, a veritable army this time, placed at strategic points along the rough gray stone.
Elizabeth would be safe there now. She could pick flowers if she wished or sit and study her birds. She would be safe in the garden. And, he vowed, she would once more be safe from him.
Nick turned away from the window, his strides long and determined as he crossed the room, turned the silver knob, and pulled open the door.
Elias Moody called out to him from the door of his dressing room. "She's in the conservatory, Nick. I seen her go in there this morning."
His mouth edged up. "How do you do that? How do you always manage to know what I am about?"
Elias gave him a canny smile. "Ain't much of a trick in this case. Miss Mercy seen ye kiss 'er the other night in the garden. Ye been moody and out of sorts ever since. I figured, sooner or later, ye'd be tellin' 'er ye was sorry."
"I am sorry, dammit. I can't believe how badly I lost control."
"You're a man, my friend, nothin' more. She's a pretty little thing and ye've got feelin's for 'er."
"I'm not allowed to have feelings like that. For God's sake, man, I'm her guardian. I'm supposed to be protecting her."
"And so ye did."
"I also scared her half to death. It's a wonder she hasn't packed up and left." He shook his head. "I hope I can convince her it won't happen again."
Elias made a rude sound in his
His knee slipped between her legs, brushing the inside of her thigh, and she told herself to push him away, that what he was doing was wrong, but her hands remained on his chest and the throbbing of her pulse matched the heavy cadence of his.
Something shifted in the air between them. His hard mouth softened, the rough kiss gentled, turned coaxing instead of demanding. His lips were firm yet pliant, giving now instead of taking, as soft as she had imagined, warm and strong, yet somehow oddly tender.
Heat rolled through her, settled low in her belly, spread like warm honey through her limbs. It was a sin, she knew. Nicholas Warring was a married man. He was a rake with a dozen mistresses, a man who took whatever woman he wanted then grew bored and brutally cast them away.
It was wrong, but it didn't feel wrong at all.
Nicholas groaned and pressed her more fully against him, into his heat, the power of his solid frame. She felt the rigid hardness of his desire, but instead of pulling away, her arms slid around his neck and her fingers laced into his wavy black hair.
A small sound came from her throat and Nicholas shuddered. For an instant he deepened the kiss and her whole body burned. Then suddenly he went still. His heart was thundering, his tall lean frame nearly rigid. Clasping her wrists, he carefully freed himself and took a step away. His expression was dark and unreadable, as if the fire she had seen in his eyes had been banked for another day.
"Go back to the house," he said, his voice low and harsh. "Do it now, Elizabeth, and don't come out here alone again."
Elizabeth didn't argue. Her lips still tingled from his kiss; her legs felt wobbly and numb. She managed a faint nod in his direction, turned and raced back toward the house.
This time the fear pumping through her had nothing to do with Bascomb or his men.
S IX
N ick paced the floor of his bedchamber. For the third time within the hour, he paused beside the window overlooking the garden. On the ground below, anemones, pansies, and tulips had begun to bloom in bright shades of purple, yellow, and pink. Color streamed along every walkway, yet Nick found himself thinking how bleak it all looked without Elizabeth there to enjoy it.
Three days had passed since he had banned her from her favorite place of refuge. It wasn't fair, he knew. It was his fault the men had been able to breach his defenses. He had underestimated his opponent yet again.
Nick looked down from the window. From his vantage point above the garden walls, he could see the men Elias had hired, a veritable army this time, placed at strategic points along the rough gray stone.
Elizabeth would be safe there now. She could pick flowers if she wished or sit and study her birds. She would be safe in the garden. And, he vowed, she would once more be safe from him.
Nick turned away from the window, his strides long and determined as he crossed the room, turned the silver knob, and pulled open the door.
Elias Moody called out to him from the door of his dressing room. "She's in the conservatory, Nick. I seen her go in there this morning."
His mouth edged up. "How do you do that? How do you always manage to know what I am about?"
Elias gave him a canny smile. "Ain't much of a trick in this case. Miss Mercy seen ye kiss 'er the other night in the garden. Ye been moody and out of sorts ever since. I figured, sooner or later, ye'd be tellin' 'er ye was sorry."
"I am sorry, dammit. I can't believe how badly I lost control."
"You're a man, my friend, nothin' more. She's a pretty little thing and ye've got feelin's for 'er."
"I'm not allowed to have feelings like that. For God's sake, man, I'm her guardian. I'm supposed to be protecting her."
"And so ye did."
"I also scared her half to death. It's a wonder she hasn't packed up and left." He shook his head. "I hope I can convince her it won't happen again."
Elias made a rude sound in his
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