A Gentleman's Curse (Avenging Lords 4)

Miss Darling’s gaze dropped to his lips.

“I will need to kiss you again at some point,” he pressed. “It is up to you whether it is a kiss full of lust or one that conveys love.”

She remained silent for a time. Eventually, she said, “Very well. But you’re not to kiss me back.”

That was like asking a parched man not to drink from a stream. Still, he’d not pass up an opportunity to feel her lips on his.

Lockhart squeezed his eyes shut. “Do with me what you will. I shall not open my eyes until you’ve finished.”

“It will be short,” she said. “Lust is like a fire in constant need of poking.”

Did she know that was an accurate analogy?

“Love,” she continued, “is conveyed through a simple but tender touch.”

Disappointment flared. He was hoping for an opportunity to tempt her, to devour her mouth as he’d done before.

“Do not move.” She shuffled closer, so close her hot breath breezed across his face.

His imagination ran amok. Was she still gripping the coverlet or had she let it slip?

The waiting, the anticipation proved highly arousing.

The first touch of her fingers gliding up to cup his cheek sent a bolt of heat to his loins. He felt her breath again like a mystical breeze whispering ancient secrets. Such was the power this lady had over him. The feel of her lips pressing softly against his was almost his undoing. They were moist and slightly parted, conveyed tenderness while hinting at the possibility of so much more. Yet strangely one kiss was enough to ignite a fire within.

She broke contact, whispered, “If I loved you, I would tell you now.”

Then tell me.

A part of him ached to hear the words.

But this was a game, he reminded himself, a game of his own construction.

When she moved away, he opened his eyes to find her shrouded in the coverlet with her head on the pillow. Something lingered in the air between them—a feeling, an emotion he could not identify, more unspoken words and confounding thoughts.

“Good night, Hudson.” Her eyes fluttered closed, shutting him out.

Lockhart turned onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “Good night, Claudia,” he said, knowing sleep would elude him for hours, knowing that until he drew his last breath, he would never forget that one sweet, gentle kiss.

Chapter Ten

Light danced on Claudia’s closed eyelids, teasing her gently out of the sweet realms of sleep. Remnants of a dream flickered in her mind, of her running through the wheat fields bordering Falaura Glen, laughing as the midday sun cast a golden hue over the scene. She hiked up her skirts and glanced back over her shoulder, bursting into an excited giggle as she bolted from the gentleman chasing in hot pursuit.

Claudia couldn’t see his face clearly, but she was not afraid. She wanted him to catch her. Desperate to keep the dream alive in her conscious memory, she imagined throwing her arms wide in surrender, imagined him scooping her up and swinging her around and around until dizzy.

A pleasurable sigh left her lips.

“Is this a game of illicit moans or is it that you slept well?” The smooth, masculine voice caressed her senses. It took her a moment to realise that it was not the man in her dream who spoke but the man lying next to her in bed.

Hudson Lockhart.

Instead of her heart melting, it hammered hard in her chest. Too scared to open her eyes fully, she peered through half-closed lids. There was a body, a large male body, a bronzed naked male body a mere foot away.

Where the devil was his nightshirt?

Claudia stole a fluttered glance at his face. An arrogant grin played at the corners of his mouth as he watched her intently.

“Since you failed to reply,” he continued, moistening his lips as his dark eyes devoured her, “I assume it’s my turn.” A deep, guttural groan resonated in the back of his throat. “God damn, Claudia, you drive me wild.” He winked and said in a less amorous tone, “There, how was that?”