The Princess and the Peer(39)
“I take back my earlier appraisal,” he said in a dry tone. “You are foxed after all.”
“I am not. I know exactly what I said… and what I want,” she told him with gentle determination. “It has nothing to do with the amount of drink I’ve had.”
“It would be easier if it did,” he murmured under his breath. “Choose something else.”
She drew back her shoulders, the arrogance and fortitude of her ancestors resilient as diamonds in her spine. “I do not want anything else.”
His eyes fixed on hers, deep and stormy gray. “You would, if you knew what was good for you. But then, as I’ve so recently observed, you seem to run toward trouble rather than away, as any sensible person would do.”
“I do not run toward trouble. It just seems to find me,” she concluded with an impish smile.
She watched as a light danced in his eyes, his mouth twitching begrudgingly up at the corners. “Indeed it does, and with that in mind, I suggest you err on the side of prudence and think of another prize to claim. A bottle of perfume perhaps? Or a pair of fine leather riding gloves? Either one is more than daring enough for most young ladies.”
“But I am not most young ladies. I thought you realized that by now. Unless you think me overly bold. Have I shocked you, my lord?”
His eyes warmed. “No,” he said smoothly, “but I must confess to being somewhat curious. Why a kiss?”
She looked down, only then noticing how tightly her fingers were clasped atop her skirts, squeezed white against the pale ecru of her gown. “Mayhap I am curious too.” Slowly she lifted her gaze. “Will you not kiss me, Dominic? You did say I might choose anything.”
He didn’t speak, a long silence stretching between them. Abruptly, he tossed back the last of the brandy in his glass and set it aside with a clink. “Very well. Far be it from me to deny a lady her express wish.”
Wings started beating hard inside Emma’s chest again, her throat going dry as she waited for him to traverse the short distance between them.
Instead he stood and moved across the room.
“Where are you going?” she asked, unable to keep the surprise and dismay from rising in her voice.
He looked back, his familiar amused smile on his face. “I thought a little privacy might be in order. But if you would rather I not close the door—”
“No, no,” she amended hastily. “Close it, by all means.”
Gracious, she sighed inwardly. How could she have forgotten that the door was standing wide open for anyone to look inside? Good thing Nick still had possession of his faculties, or who knew what difficulty might arise?
A shiver chased over her spine when she heard the lock click into place, vividly aware of just how alone they truly were. Her eyes slid closed as she waited for him to return, nervous anticipation trembling through her. Then she felt the sofa cushions depress as he sat down beside her.
She waited and waited.
He trailed the back of one knuckle in a gentle sweep across her cheek and she jumped slightly, her eyes flying open again. Fire burned across her skin where he’d touched, her lungs in acute need of air.
“Are you quite sure this is what you want?” he asked soberly, his eyes very dark.
Despite her inexplicable shyness, she couldn’t look away from his intent gaze, nor let herself turn back from her chosen path. “Yes.”
Smiling again, he leaned down and touched his lips to hers.
Her heart pounded in thick strokes that drummed between her ears, the faint scents of linen starch and sandalwood soap teasing her senses. His mouth was warm and firm on hers—light, easy, undemanding. He held the embrace for a few seconds longer with nothing but their closed lips touching. Then, as simply as the kiss had begun, it was over.
She blinked and let the sensations sweep through her.
Nice, she thought. Definitely nice.
Yet she sensed the kiss had been lacking somehow, that there ought to have been more. A pang she could only describe as dissatisfaction slid serpentlike through her middle.
“There, Miss White,” he said in a low drawl, “you’ve had your kiss. My debt is paid.” Easing another inch away, he stretched a negligent arm along the back of the sofa. “It grows late and you should be abed. I shall wish you good night.”
But in spite of the late hour she didn’t wish to say good night to him. Nor was she the least bit sleepy. She studied him, taking in his relaxed posture and the urbane calm in his eyes. If she hadn’t been the one he’d kissed moments ago, she would have thought they’d been doing nothing more involved than discussing the weather.
Yet maybe that’s all their kiss had meant to him.