With a faint smile of apology to the others, Quinn addressed his opponent. “Pray forgive me, Lisle, but I willingly concede. We must resume our game at some other time.”
He could feel Lisle shooting daggers in his back as he walked away. There was no love lost between them, with their contentious past involving a jealous mistress, and now the question of how Lisle had come to possess a distinctive piece of jewelry that might once have belonged to Quinn’s French mother. But solving the mystery of a missing family heirloom would have to wait.
As he weaved his way through the crowd, intent on rescuing Miss Stratham, he saw Knowlsbridge endeavoring to remove her mask while she strove to keep it in place. Quinn doubted she wished her identity revealed, for even if she had joined the muslin company—willingly or not—her family’s reputation could still suffer from a fresh scandal. And with a younger sister of prime marriageable age, Venetia would be wise to keep her affairs discreet.
He had nearly reached her when, despite her predicament, she saw him approaching and visibly flinched, whether in surprise or dismay, he couldn’t tell. For an instant, she started to retreat, then stood her ground, her chin raised, as if bracing herself for the encounter.
“There you are, my dove,” Quinn said easily as he came up to her. “I have been eagerly awaiting your company.”
When Knowlsbridge took advantage of her temporary distraction to cup her breast, another sharp wave of anger flooded Quinn.
“I’ll thank you to leave the lady alone,” he warned an instant before she managed to drive the point of her elbow into the sot’s flaccid belly and make him grunt.
“Sheesh not … a lady,” the young lord complained, wheezing for breath.
“Regardless, she is mine.”
Quinn slipped an arm around Miss Stratham’s waist and drew her close. “I have missed you, darling. Have you missed me?”
She possessed huge, lustrous dark eyes, which were mostly hidden behind her mask, but even obscured, her gaze held startlement. She was clearly wondering what he was about.
But Quinn knew the jackanapes beside her understood the situation quite well: A more powerful male marking his territory, showing possession.
“Are you not pleased to see me, love?” he prodded Venetia.
“I … why, yes, my lord,” she stammered, reminding Quinn how pleasantly musical her voice was.
“Perhaps you should show me how much.”
Bending his head, he captured that full, kissable mouth the way he had longed to do for years.
She gave a faint gasp at the contact and stiffened in response. Quinn could feel shock ripple through the graceful curves of her body, while his own breath quickened at the enticing taste of her.
Her lips were just as delectable as he’d imagined, he thought, relishing their softness. Lush, resilient, the texture of silk, ripe and warm as her body.
When she tensed further, he increased the pressure, parting the seam of her mouth and slipping his tongue inside to tangle with hers.
Her lips trembled under his. Encouraged, he changed the slant of his head and took her mouth more thoroughly, coaxing her to participate in her own seduction, parting her lips wider with his thrusting tongue.
When finally she opened completely to him, Quinn felt the unexpected impact like a jolt of lightning: Heat, pleasure, excitement, sheer satisfaction.
Her taste was keenly arousing and infinitely sweet. Sliding one hand behind her nape, he pulled her closer so tha
t he could drink more deeply of her.
The crowd fell away so there was only the two of them, man and woman, enjoying an embrace powerful enough to shake them both. Her scent wrapped around him as he savored her mouth.
It was a slow, devastating, spellbinding kiss. When her entire body softened instinctively against him, her surrender only increased his craving for her. Painfully aroused now, Quinn felt a primal male urge to take what he wanted—and an even stronger need to heighten her desire.
When his tongue delved insistently inside her mouth, exploring, she gave a helpless moan and leaned into him. The sharp pleasure of it stabbed him in his loins, a pleasure that only heightened when her hand crept up to twine about his neck.
He felt another measure of triumph when her tongue met his willingly this time. Raising a hand to cradle her jaw, he angled his head even further, the better to devour her mouth.
Her breath faded to a sigh as their tongues mated. The tantalizing promise of her response stirred a searing need in Quinn. It had been a very long while since he’d experienced such a sizzling sexual attraction. Perhaps never.
Stark lust turned him hard and renewed his fierce feeling of possessiveness. The sensation rocked him—and Venetia, too, he had no doubt, aware of her shiver of aroused excitement.
When at last he broke off, he kept hold of her waist to support her as she swayed weakly.