Baron of Blasphemy (Lords of Scandal 12)

He chuckled. “That is an excellent start, but I was referring more to a closeness of mind. Particularly on the subject of marriage.”

Her brows shot up as he tightened his hand on hers. She allowed him to settle a bit closer. “We’re here to discuss marriage?” Her mouth curved up at the corners. “I’m in the garden, hidden in a hedge, in the dark of night, with a known rake, and he wishes to discuss matrimony.”

She’d been tucked against his side, but he pulled her around so that her front pressed to his, his hand sliding up her back to her bare shoulder. Delightful sensations tingled along her skin. “I offered to show you some of my rakish benefits earlier, but you declined.”

She tsked. “How will you take me seriously if I just start allowing you all sorts of liberties?”

He reached his gloved hand up to trail his fingers along her cheek before softly cupping her jaw. “I take you very seriously, Miss Abigail Carrington. You are a force to be reckoned with.”

Those words softened her. She wished to be taken seriously, and receive the respect her other siblings seemed to achieve effortlessly. Because sometimes she wondered if her sisters were right. Had her father’s favoritism been a hindrance?

Blasphemy’s words assuaged some of her fears, and she appreciated that he understood, but before she could thank him, he bent down and brushed his lips against hers.

The touch was gentle and brief, a light sweep of his mouth that was so faint, it might not have happened at all.

Except tingling spread from her mouth all through her body. He held her against his large, muscular chest and when she gasped, hers pressed against his.

He kissed her again, firmer, harder and she melted into the touch. Into him. This was divine.

He lifted his head then, his thumb brushing across her lips. “You tasted as good as I thought you would.”

“Oh,” she breathed, his words sending another shower of tingles all along her skin. “You’ve thought about the way I would taste?”

“Indeed,” he said, his breath whispering over her cheek. “And it was even better than I pictured. Sweet but citrusy too with just a touch of…” he paused, “clove.”

Her tongue darted out to touch her own lips. He’d picked up all of that? “You are…”

He raised one eyebrow. “Clever?”

“Dangerous,” she replied, attempting to step back. He was a rake, after all, and she was very quickly falling under his spell. He’d ply her with kisses and pretty words and then she’d agree to whatever he wished. She should have known. She took a more definitive step back and pulled out of his arms. She’d allowed him too many liberties. But as she stepped back, she tripped on a loose stone under her left foot.

He tightened his grip in an instant, bringing her back against him. This time, however, his muscles were taut, and the

y rippled against her.

She gasped as she grabbed his shoulders. Her gaze snapped to his, her eyes wide. Why did he have to be so…masculine? It would help her to make a stand if he were less appealing.

He gave her an arrogant grin as he bent toward her, her body bending back. “See? A husband can really come in handy.”

She tightened her grip on the fabric of his sleeves. “So in a few years when I happen to trip again, you’ll be there?”

“Indeed.” His smile widened. “And when you need your fire banked, or your horse saddled…”

She wrinkled her nose. “With all due respect, Blasphemy, a groom could—"

“Not that name.” His smile disappeared as his brow furrowed. “That’s not the name of a husband.”

She gave her head a bit of a shake. “It’s what everyone else calls you.”

“Not you,” he said. “My name is Chadwick, but my mother called me just Chad when I was a boy.”

“Chad?” It suited him. Strong and pleasing. But then her gaze narrowed. Did he think a different name would make her forget his reputation? “Will the rest of the world continue to call you Blasphemy?”

He lifted one shoulder, attempting to look casual but she felt the tension in him, taut in his stomach and the hard band of his arms still wrapped about her. “I’m not certain. I’m rather new to this.”

“Fair enough,” she muttered, pushing his arms away to straighten up. “Did you bring me out here to kiss me? Because if so…”

“No, actually,” he answered, not letting her go. “I understand that you are tired of being told what to do. It’s a problem I have a great deal of experience with.”