The entire company could have been standing, gawping, on the path, and he wouldn’t have known and wouldn’t have cared.
In that instant, the only thing that mattered was her—the fiery, feisty woman she truly was, the woman he’d always instinctively known lived beneath her cool, composed exterior. The only imperative remaining in his mind was to appease her demands, to lure her and capture her, just as she had already captured him.
It was tit for tat, a natural search for balance between them, and this time, she was leading the dance, forging the way, and for once, he didn’t mind.
Her lips were ambrosia, her mouth a dark paradise. The pressure of her body against his completed the lure—one that, for him, was utterly irresistible.
Not that he had any wish to resist…
Yet protectiveness remained, alert and watchful; some distant part of his brain informed him that the trio had come farther along the path and seen them.
But the intruders had halted, no doubt transfixed by the sight of him and the woman held tightly in his arms standing in the clearing and bathed by moonlight.
A soft male chuckle reached him. “Half his luck.” Then Cecilia murmured something, and the sound of footsteps creeping away faded.
Good.
The need for their charade had passed. They could end the kiss. But the man he was when she—the woman she truly was—was in his arms had no intention of doing anything so senseless.
This—her as she was, in his arms, with her lips under his, her hands in his hair, and her mouth and her pliant body surrendered—was exactly what his inner self craved.
Now he had her where he needed her, he was in no hurry to let her go.
No more than he did she evince any desire to break from the engagement.
Instead, she pressed more firmly into his embrace.
Antonia had given up all hope of rational thought. All notion of following any plan. Feelings, impulses, and compulsions battered at her and drove her; recognizing and appeasing them made her wits spin. But of one thing she was ineradicably certain—she wanted more.
More of everything.
In that instant, she needed more of the sensation of Sebastian’s muscled body riding against her heated curves. Deliberately—blatantly provocatively—she pressed her breasts to his chest and shifted, needing to ease the ache that had spread over her skin and sunk into her flesh.
Into her very bones.
An urgent ache, one some primitive side of her recognized, an ache she yearned to ease.
With her hands clutching his head, the soft feathery caress of his silky locks on the backs of her hands another temptation, she held him to the kiss, held herself open to it, and gloried in the exchange—in the fiery flow of desire between them. Hot, stirring, and flagrantly needful, a steadily rising tide of wanting that was not just hers but theirs, that compulsive passion swirled and welled and linked them.
He responded to her tempting, her bold provocation, and closed one hard hand over her breast.
Her heart leapt, then hammered—not in shock but in giddy delight.
He caressed, stroked, then palpated the suddenly swollen mound, then his clever fingers found her nipple beneath the silk of her bodice and circled teasingly. Then he closed his fingers and gently squeezed.
Her senses spiked, her nerves seized, and she lost what little breath she had.
Eagerness swamped her. More—more…
“Antonia?”
They broke from the kiss. Eyes wide, for an instant, they stared at each other. Claire’s call had acted like a pail of cold water dumped over them both.
Abruptly, Sebastian’s arms fell from her, and he looked up the path. Her heart tripping, she swung around to see, but her friend hadn’t come far enough into the room—yet.
“Antonia—are you there?” Melissa, this time.
Struggling to catch her breath, Antonia glanced at Sebastian. Features setting, he stepped back. He straightened his coat, then raked a hand through the hair she realized she’d thoroughly mussed.
She glanced down at her gown and hurriedly tugged the somewhat rumpled bodice into place, then looked up. Only a few seconds had elapsed.
His expression close to its usual arrogantly impassive mask, he met her eyes and nodded.
She hauled in a still far-too-tight breath. “Yes—I’m—we’re here.”
Even drawing on her years of social experience, she discovered it took every ounce of her will to keep her voice steady and her tone coolly composed, to plaster on an expression of serene assurance and get herself moving in a reasonably smooth glide up the path.
Sebastian followed close behind—strolling easily, as if they’d merely been admiring the views.
Her pulse seemed to throb just beneath her skin. She felt flushed all over and hoped it wouldn’t show in the poor light.