“You were lurking in the shadows.”
She added two lumps of sugar to her tea, and then took a long sip in order to temper her hot retort. He was goading her again. But why? She was trying to put him at ease, assure him that there could never be anything more than friendship between the two of them. “I was innocently peering, not lurking. Since when is curiosity a crime? And speaking of innocent, your kiss was anything but that.”
He frowned lightly. “Don’t remind me. It isn’t my practice to frighten genteel young ladies.”
“We’ve gotten off the point.” She took another sip of her tea. “All I wished to say is that you’re not destined to be my husband. So we can both breathe a sigh of relief. I won’t be burdened with a husband who doesn’t love me, and you won’t be burdened with a wife you don’t want.”
He didn’t appear convinced. “If anything, you seem to have proved quite the opposite point. If there is such a thing as the Chipping Way curse, then you and I are doomed to wed.”
She shot out of her chair, her hands curled into fists at her side. “Are you purposely trying to distress me?”
He calmly set his cup down on the tray and rose to his impressive full height. “It’s you who has distressed me, Daffy.”
Ugh! He was riled. She hated when he called her Daffy.
“I hadn’t thought of our first meeting,” he continued, “until you made a point of raising it just now. As for sparks flying and love at first sight... well, it might not have been love, but that first kiss between us was anything but tame. Don’t even think to deny it.”
About to protest, she clamped her mouth shut instead.
He was still staring at her as he spoke. More like glowering at her. “I kissed. You responded. Ardently.”
She glanced toward the door to make certain no one was nearby. “How dare you!” she whispered harshly and came around the small table to stand directly in front of him. “I wasn’t ardent. I was struggling for breath. You had your tongue stuck halfway down my throat. And if you call me Daffy again, I’ll pour hot tea over your swelled head!”
“Are you seriously going to deny enjoying our first kiss?”
“Our only kiss. I hated it.”
There was a dangerous gleam in his eyes. Perhaps hate was too strong a word.
“You melted at my touch. Must I prove it to you again?”
“Go ahead. I dare you.” She tipped her chin upward in indignation. A bad move, because his arms clamped about her waist and the next thing she knew, she was up against him. Oh, he felt so good! Say no! Tell him to stop.
But she didn’t. She wanted that second kiss.
Ian, the bounder, must have seen the yearning in her eyes. He let out a wrenching groan as he closed his lips on hers. All rational thought fled her brain. She was left with nothing but a hot coil of sensation that wound tightly in her stomach and then burst throughout her body in a shower of flames.
She was so shaken she couldn’t remember her own name. Not even if her life depended on it. What was it again? Phlox? Peony? Bugloss?
He let out a husky, animal growl that cut the legs out from under her. In a good way. In the best way. Fortunately, she was still swallowed in his arms and he didn’t seem ready to let her go. She would have fallen otherwise. Her legs were softer than pudding. “Ian,” she whispered, her voice laced with exquisite agony.
He dipped his tongue between her lips, gently parting them. Gently probing. Not so gently invading her mouth as he deepened the kiss and urgently plundered. She was already hot, practically on fire, but it felt as though he’d turned up her furnace to as high as it could go. To infernal-fires-of-hell hot. And even hotter than that.
She felt so good wrapped in his arms, loved his strength and the heat radiating off his big body. Loved the warmth of his lips on hers, the subtle scent of sandalwood on his neck. Her hands moved higher, her fingers curling in his clean, thick hair to draw him even closer and keep his lips planted on hers.
Oh, no! This can’t be happening. We don’t like each other.
Or do we?
No! We can’t!
She was on the verge of tears by the time he ended the kiss. She didn’t want exquisite bursts of fireworks. She didn’t want starlight or intoxicating kisses in the moonlight with Ian. He was a hound and a dissolute. She refused to be another of his conquests, another notch on his bedpost.
“See,” she said, struggling to hold back sniffles. She was still in his arms and not quite ready to pull away. “Nothing. There’s nothing between us at all.”
“Right. I can see that.” He traced his thumb along the curve of her cheek. “Dillie, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I don’t know what the hell I was doing just now. I’m an idiot, as you well know. I know you don’t love me. What I made you feel was passion. Desire. I manipulated you into feeling these sensations. It isn’t the same as love. Don’t be afraid that it might be.”