Ever since their interlude on the terrace at the Place, she'd given him no chance to draw her close; his "mine" had effectively quashed her pursuit of his "pleasure." Over the last three days, however, her interest in the subject had returned. Even grown.
Webster opened the door; Honoria swept over the threshold. "If you have a moment, Your Grace, there's a matter I wish to discuss." Head high, she headed straight for the library door. A footman sprang to open it for her; she glided through-into the devil's lair.
Devil watched her go, his expression unreadable. Then he handed his driving gloves to Webster. "I suspect I won't want to be disturbed."
"Indeed, Your Grace."
Waving aside the hovering footman, Devil entered the library and shut the door.
Honoria stood before the desk, tapping her fingers on its edge. She heard the latch click; turning, she watched Devil slowly approach. "I want to discuss the ton's likely reaction when it learns I'm not marrying you." That seemed a sufficiently goading topic.
Devil's brows rose. "Is that what this is about?"
"Yes." Honoria remembered to frown when he did not halt but continued his prowling advance. "It's pointless to close your eyes to the fact that such an outcome will cause a considerable stir." She turned to stroll, as slowly as he, around the edge of his desk. "You know perfectly well it will affect not just yourself but the family as well." Glancing over her shoulder, she saw him some steps behind her, following in her wake. She kept walking. "It's simply not sensible to allow the expectation to build."
"So what do you suggest?"
Rounding the desk, Honoria continued toward the fire place. "You could hint that matters were not settled between us."
"On what grounds?"
"How should I know?" She flung a glance over her shoulder. "I'm sure you're imaginative enough to invent something."
From six feet behind, Devil's gaze remained steady. "Why?"
"Why?"
"Why should I invent something?"
"Because…" Gesturing vaguely, Honoria walked into the corner of the room. She stopped and stared at the volumes level with her nose. "Because it's necessary." She drew a deep breath, mentally crossed her fingers, and swung around. "Because I don't want anyone held up to ridicule because of my decision."
As she'd hoped, Devil was no longer six feet away. His eyes held hers, mere inches distant. "I'm the only one risking the ton's ridicule. And I'm not about to run shy."
Honoria narrowed her eyes at him, and tried not to notice she was trapped. "You are without doubt the most impossibly arrogant, conceited-" His eyes dropped from hers-Honoria caught her breath.
"Have you finished?"
The question was uttered in a conversational tone. His lids lifted and he met her gaze; Honoria managed a nod.
"Good." Again his gaze lowered; one hand rose to frame her face, then he bent his head.
Honoria's lids fell; in the instant his lips closed over hers, she gripped the bookshelves behind her tightly, fighting down her triumph. She'd got her wolf to pounce, and he hadn't even realized he'd been baited.
The thrill of success met the thrill of delight his kiss sent racing through her; she parted her lips, eager to learn of his passion, eager to experience again the pleasure she'd found in his arms. He shifted; she thought he groaned. For one instant, his weight pressed against her as his lips forced hers wider, his tongue tasting her voraciously. The sudden surge of desire surprised her; immediately, he shackled it, drawing back to a slow, steady plundering designed to reduce any resistance to dust.
That instant of raw, primitive emotion spurred Honoria on-she wanted to know it, taste it again; she needed to learn more. Her hands left the bookshelves and slid beneath his coat. His waistcoat effectively shielded his chest; the buttons, thankfully, were large. Her fingers busy, she angled her head against the pressure of his kiss. Their lips shifted, then locked; tentatively, then with greater confidence, she kissed him back.
It had been far too long since he'd kissed her.
Devil knew that was true; he was so famished, so caught up in drinking in the heady taste of her, that long minutes passed before he realized she was responding. Not passively allowing him to kiss her, not even merely offering her lips, her soft mouth. She was kissing him back. With untutored skill maybe, but also with the same determined forthrightness that characterized all she did.
The realization mentally halted him. She pressed closer, deepening the kiss of her own volition-shaking off his distraction, he took all she offered and greedily angled for more. Then he felt her hands on his chest. Palms gliding, fingers spread, she traced the heavy muscles, the fine linen of his shirt no real barrier to her touch.
She was setting him alight! Abruptly, Devil straightened, breaking off their kiss. It didn't work-Honoria's hands slid over his shoulders as she stretched upward against him; who initiated the next kiss was moot. With a groan, Devil took all she gave, his arms closing possessively about her. Did she know what she was doing?
Her eagerness, the alacrity with which she pressed herself against him, suggested she'd forgotten every maidenly precept she'd ever learned. It also suggested it was time to draw her deeper. Setting aside restraint, Devil kissed her deeply, hungrily, as ravenously as he wished, deliberately leaving her breathless. Raising his head, he drew her to the large armchair before the hearth; her hand in his, he freed the last two buttons on his waistcoat, then sat. Looking up at her, he raised one brow.
Her senses whirling, her hand clasped in his, Honoria read the question in his eyes. He'd asked it of her once before: How much of a woman are you? Her breasts, already heated, swelled as she drew breath. Deliberately, she stepped about his knees and sat, turning to him, sliding her hands over his chest, pushing his waistcoat wide.