A Scandalous Affair (The Merry Widows 3)

His entire body stiffened as he pondered his answer. Should he reveal the truth, or would that be a grave mistake?

“You don’t have to answer my question,” she said in a rush, her expression full of worry. “It was rude of me to ask such a thing. Forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” he said, voice low, gaze locked on the sweet curve of her mouth, which was turned down in the most appealing frown he’d ever seen.

She lifted her lids, her stunningly beautiful eyes meeting his, and he momentarily forgot himself. Let himself drown in the sea blue swirling depths of her gaze, the open, warm expression on her face. She looked at him not in disdain or disgust but in…pleasure. And, his hopeful heart told him, yearning.

As if she might yearn for him.

Chapter Five

Kiss me, kiss me.

Daphne tilted her head back and lifted her chin, aligning her lips with Hartwell’s. He leaned forward, the movement subtle, his warm breath drifting across her cheek, and her eyes slid closed in anticipation.

If he didn’t kiss her at this very moment she just might die with wanting it.

Finally, he settled his lips upon hers, warm and whisper-soft and far too briefly. Almost as if she imagined the entire exchange. One moment he was there, the next gone. She opened her eyes to find him close, his gaze locked upon her, a mystified expression on his handsome and slightly troubled face.

“Kiss me again,” she urged in a raw whisper, feeling the wanton and for once not having a care. She’d imagined this from the first moment she saw him and she wasn’t about to let him get away. Not yet.

His mouth curved and he did, indeed, kiss her again. His lips were hot and damp as they brushed against hers once, twice, three times. Subtly coaxing her mouth open until his tongue dabbed against hers and then retreated.

A strangled little cry escaped her at th

e quickening, arousing touch. He tangled his tongue with hers again as if to appease her. She dropped her hand from his shoulder and slipped it around his waist, drawing him as close as she could get him. His lean, hard body collided with hers, sending a cascade of tingles washing over her skin.

Heaven. It felt like absolute heaven in his arms, his mouth locked with hers. She’d never kissed a man until her husband and his kisses, though pleasant, had lacked passion.

She’d heard and read stories of kisses that made a lady’s head spin, made her stomach flutter, caused her entire body to shiver with awareness and she’d believed them all fairytales. Complete and utter nonsense.

But no. She lived the fairytale in the arms of the Marquess of Hartwell. A man everyone believed arrogant, cold-hearted.

She knew better. The real Hartwell was her own newly discovered treasure. One she would guard most covetously.

“My lady,” he breathed after he finally broke the kiss. “Our…clandestine meeting would most likely be considered rather scandalous, especially if we are discovered.”

“I’ve always wanted to be involved in a scandal,” she declared as she reluctantly removed herself from his embrace, smiling faintly. “Don’t worry. No one knows we’re together alone. And I locked the door behind me when I entered.”

His dark brows drew together. “You did?”

“Indeed, I did.” She nodded, wayward curls brushing against her cheeks. “May I ask you a question? And I promise it won’t be too intrusive.”

He nodded warily.

“Might I extend an invitation for a supper party at my home in two nights’ time? I would be delighted to have you as company. My guest of honor, if you will.”

He appeared stunned speechless. The man surely received loads of invitations, though he was rarely in attendance. “I—I don’t do well in crowds, my lady.”

“Daphne,” she corrected, and he coughed. “And don’t worry about crowds. This will be a rather…intimate supper party.” She wanted to laugh at her choice of words. Oh, she really was being a wanton but she couldn’t help herself. She was desperate to get the handsome marquess into her home. Alone.

“Intimate?”

“Yes, very. And since it shall be so, so intimate, I think it best if I knew your first name. I’d feel silly calling you Hartwell all evening. Especially because I believe we’re going to become close—friends.” She wished for them to be more than friends but she certainly couldn’t declare that.

He cleared his throat. “My first name?”

“You do have one, don’t you?”