Luck Is No Lady(6)

Her fingers fumbled through the familiar movements as what should have been a simple task became weighted with acute expectancy.

By the time she smoothed the edges of the cravat beneath his coat, Emma’s breath was tight and her pulse beat in a frantic rhythm. Craving distance and a safe return of her faculties, she shifted her weight to step back, but her retreat was brought to a halt when he lifted his hands to cup her face.

“One more thing,” he murmured. Then his mouth covered hers.

She had not yet lowered her hands, and they flattened against his chest as she tensed in shock. Her stomach went into a tizzy of uncontrollable flutters, and what remaining sensible thoughts she may have had were sent spiraling from her head.

He pressed his fingertips into the hollow at the base of her skull and propped his thumbs beneath her chin, holding her in place to accept the exquisite pressure of his lips. He took a step closer and his feet stirred the fall of her skirts as his body bumped gently against hers. Then he tilted his head and his mouth softened in unspoken entreaty, as if he were asking for something more.

Emma had never been kissed before, and as his mouth moved over hers, she found herself utterly unprepared for the sensations it evoked. She never could have anticipated the delicious heaviness invading her limbs or the tingling that rushed through her blood. When he pulled on her lips, as if trying to draw something from her, her body tightened deep inside with a yearning that came on so swiftly it startled her.

It finally recalled her to her senses—the inexplicable need that overtook all rational thought. Emma was not accustomed to such a complete destruction of mental acuity, and it frightened her.

She tensed the curve of her lower back. The resistance was small, but it was enough, and he lifted his head. Emma fought the urge to run her tongue over her lips. Though he had ended the kiss, he did not step back or release his hands from her face.

“Are you certain you wish to remain unknown to each other?” he whispered darkly. His voice felt like a caress. “We could continue this encounter in a more comfortable location. Somewhere just as private, lit by candlelight.”

“You should not have kissed me,” she replied breathlessly as her thoughts began to reorganize themselves and a raw panic seeped into her bones.

“I do a lot of things I shouldn’t. It does not mean I won’t do them again.”

Her alarm intensified at the thought of him kissing her again. She could not let that happen, not when his first kiss had been so unsettling. A second might be devastating.

“Not with me, you won’t.” She pushed against him. This time he stepped back and dropped his hands to his sides. The loss of his warmth was tangible, but she ignored the shiver that coursed over her skin. “Remember our agreement. You said you would not follow.”

She grasped the edge of the curtain and drew it aside just enough to slip into the room beyond. Her stride was steady as she crossed to the door, despite the riot of sensations still claiming her. Before stepping from the dim study into the well-lit hall, she glanced over her shoulder to note that the curtain was still and solemn behind her.

He had kept his word.

Emma made it back to the ballroom without mishap. Furtively scanning for Marwood, she maintained a sedate pace as she returned to the area reserved for chaperones and aged matriarchs.

The ladies were gathered on settees and cushioned chairs in a corner of the ballroom. Their chosen location provided the best vantage point from which to view the activities of the party and endeavor to keep a close watch on their young charges. Emma placed her back to the wall beside her great-aunt and turned her anxious gaze to the dance floor. Within a few minutes she was assured neither of her sisters had suffered any disasters in her absence. She also allowed herself to hope Lord Marwood had departed the party altogether, since she saw no sign of him anywhere.

With a wave of relief on both counts, she took a steadying breath and prepared to continue through the next few hours of the evening, behaving as if nothing untoward had just happened…even though her skin still tingled with heightened sensitivity, her heart continued to beat heavily against her ribs, and her equilibrium had flipped on its head.

Her great-aunt glanced up in surprise when she noticed Emma standing beside her.

Though Emma was their legal guardian, she was not qualified to be her sisters’ chaperone. The Dowager Countess of Chelmsworth—Angelique, as the lady insisted everyone call her—was the aged widow of her mother’s uncle and had been the only available option to fill that important role. Her many decades spent amongst the ton afforded her the right knowledge and influence to assist in steering the younger Chadwick girls through the necessary introductions and away from any potential pitfalls.