My Reckless Surrender

Instead of giving him his way, she lifted her hands off him. She looked directly at him, shaking her heavy fall of hair back. That evocative smile still flirted with her lips.

She knew exactly what she did, the darling jade.

His cock throbbed with frustration, his heart slammed to a stop. It was a warm night, but compared to the scorching heat of his skin, the air felt like ice.

Amusement sparked in her face. She didn’t replace her hand where he wanted it, blast her. “You promised to lie still.”

As he looked into her lovely face, for the first time he wondered if he’d met a woman he wanted to keep for longer than a few weeks. Even more shocking, he wondered whether, in such company, monogamy might have its benefits.

Dear Lord, save him from such madness. He needed to get a grip before he started spouting romantic absurdities. Diana was only in Town for the summer, before she retreated to that confounded mysterious village in Surrey. And a dull life as a respectable widow if he believed the tale she’d spun him.

Perhaps he could convince her to stay. Or visit the capital regularly.

Like every week.

Every day.

Every minute.

“I feel like a specimen at the damned Royal Society,” he said, not entirely joking.

She watched his face as if he were the air she breathed. “You’d be the most popular exhibit. Especially displayed as you are. Or perhaps in the British Museum. You have a fondness for the place. After today, I must confess I too have a liking for it, especially the Egyptian rooms.”

“I’m neither dead nor dusty, my love.”

My love?

Clearly she sent him into such a fever, his normal, well-considered reactions were lacking. He’d return to something approximating sanity once he’d had her.

A hundred times.

Maybe.

She ran her finger down his bare thigh, steering clear of where he wanted her. She raised her finger and inspected it. “You’re right. No dust. The housemaids are doing their duty.”

He laughed. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone teased him. Nobody considered themselves on such relaxed terms with him. No friend. No lover. The realization struck him as a sad reflection on his existence.

“Come here,” he said without moving, although he withdrew his hand, most reluctantly, from her leg.

She looked wary. “Why?”

“Because I want to kiss you. Then I promise to endure your torture.” He sent her a meaningful glance. “Although don’t expect to escape retribution.”

Her color intensified. Her skin had the bloom of a ripe peach. In the soft candlelight, she could be a girl with her first lover. He wondered if her husband had had any idea of the treasure he’d won in the young Diana. He could picture her ten years or so ago. Ardent. Generous. Virginal. The idea struck Ashcroft as poignant in a way he couldn’t explain.

Although jealousy stirred.

And he was jealous of no lover.

“I think that can be arranged,” she murmured, trailing her finger down the center of his chest as if checking for more dust.

Did she mean it? He’d longed to put his mouth on her sex since he’d first seen her. Another blast of excitement crackled through him.

When she pressed her lips to his, she tasted fresh and almost innocent. For a brief, enchanted interval, she kissed him chastely. Just moving in a subtle exploration that nonetheless made his pulses thunder like an avalanche. His fingers twisted in the sheets.

Her hand crept up his shoulder to stroke his face. Poor bedazzled fool he was, the touch felt like tenderness. And that scored his heart deeper than passion.

The chaste kiss couldn’t endure, not when desire raged like a forest fire. Her tongue flicked out to test the seam of his lips. He opened his mouth. The kiss changed from a sweet prelude to develop heated momentum. By the time she drew away, they both panted.