She liked that idea; he could see it in the curve of her sweet mouth.
Richard shifted a little uncomfortably on his seat as desire dug its claws into him. Just as well it was so dark here, although she was too innocent to know what the bulge in his trousers meant. Increasingly he became aware of the brush of her skirt against his thigh and fantasized that it was her skin. Imagined laying her back over his arm, while his mouth was busy on her breasts. Licking, tugging, kissing. And she would be sighing and moaning and begging him for more.
“Show me how you put your hands on his shoulders,” he heard himself saying in a husky voice. “Show me how you were going to kiss him.”
She hesitated, and for a moment he thought she was going to show good sense and refuse, but no, she was turning toward him. She reached up to smooth her palms across his broad shoulders, settling them to her satisfaction, and then she gazed up into his face from the shadow of the honeysuckle arch. Her green eyes gleamed.
“Like this,” she whispered.
“And what did you plan to do?” he said, knowing he was mad to persist with this and unable to stop himself.
She wriggled a little closer. “I planned to brush my mouth over his, just gently, just to see what he would do.” Again she followed her words with actions. He tried not to groan aloud. “And kiss the corners of his lips, and perhaps lick him with my tongue, to taste him.”
This time he did groan. He couldn’t help it. As she teased him with her lips, he followed her mouth with his. Capturing it. Kissing her with a deepening passion. Although he was far gone, a part of his brain still expected her to reject him, push him away. But Tina responded instantly, clinging to him, her breasts hard against his chest while he lightly caressed her throat and bare shoulders, skipping the dress sleeves to run his fingers over her arms to the edges of her long evening gloves.
There wasn’t enough bare skin to find and touch, and he wanted more.
Much more.
She tried to pull away, and for a moment he thought he’d finally frightened her with his desire, but as he opened his mouth to apologize, she put her fingertips against his lips. Then he heard it, too. The sound of footsteps quickly approaching down the path. He drew her back into his arms, so that she rested against him, feeling her quickening breath against the hollow of his throat, the clutch of her hand on his lapel.
It was Horace Gilfoyle.
They could see him through the shielding screen of shrubs. He was walking with his head down, and as they watched, he paused and gave a chuckle. The next moment it was as if he felt their gazes upon him because he lifted his head, suddenly alert, and peered into the shadows.
“Tina?” he called softly. “Tina, where are you? Do come out. I didn’t mean to laugh, but you have to admit, it was very-very funny.”
He could hardly keep his continence at the memory, and Richard felt her stiffen and held her tighter in case she decided to fly out of cover and attack her future husband. But then Horace gave a sigh and moved on toward the house, and they were alone again.
He stroked her silky back. “It’s all right. He’s gone. And he’s already regretting what he did.”
“No he’s not,” she retorted, keeping her voice low with an effort. “He thinks it’s all so hilarious. He will tell everyone, particularly Charles. They’ll giggle every time they see me. They’re like schoolboys when it comes to something like this.”
“Tina, stop it.” He pulled her to her feet and turned her to him. “Listen to me. Are you listening?”
Startled, she stared up at him. “I’m listening,” she whispered.
“You will ignore them because you are above all that. Above them. Believe me, Lord Horace will regret what he did. Think a moment, ask yourself why he lured you out here? Alone? He’s interested. He isn’t completely yours, not yet, but he will be soon.”
She stared at him a moment longer, and then she asked, “Why are you here tonight? I don’t understand why you are here.”
Awkward question. Richard did his best to answer it without actually answering it.
“I thought you wanted me here. That’s what you told me.”
“Yes”—she eyed him suspiciously—“but I didn’t think you could make it happen. My mother is furious. You are-you are . . .”
“Not suitable for polite society? A rogue? A rake? A scoundrel without conscience? A seducer? Someone not to be trusted with a lady’s virtue? A man about town? Come, Tina, what am I?”
He was angry, and he couldn’t hide it. He knew he was called all of those things, and perhaps long ago as a boy he had been such a creature, but now it was all a game, a necessary role he was playing. The real Richard Eversham was someone else, someone dangerous, someone who lived in the shadows, someone Tina would be better off not knowing.
Suddenly he felt a wave of despair wash over him. It seemed ages since he’d had a normal conversation with someone without thinking about the Guardians and how best
to get information for them. Every situation he found himself in these days had something to do with his work. With hunting his brother’s killer. How would he ever return to normal once Anthony’s killer was brought to justice? If he was brought to justice.
Because Richard had made a vow to continue the hunt for as long as it took, and until then his entire life, his entire future, was in limbo.
He came to himself with a start. Tina was touching his face, her gloved finger stroking the corner of his mouth. “Don’t be angry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I don’t think of you like that at all. It was just that your being here made it more difficult for me to play my part, to remember what you’d told me to do. I kept thinking about you instead.”