On a Wicked Dawn (Cynster 9)

Swallowing a groan, he opened his eyes and stared at the canopy. He was hard and throbbing, but he couldn't have her again, not with dinner drawing near…

The thought focused his mind on where they were, on the hour, the house. The company. All things he could define. Lifting his head, he glanced across the room — at the door he hadn't locked. Now he was listening, he heard the shuffles and scrapes of distant footfalls.

"Mmm…" She stirred drowsily. Then her hand drifted from his chest, down over his torso—

He caught her wrist, manacled it. "We haven't time." Folding back her arm, he hefted her up, then brushed back her tangled hair. Met her gaze, brilliantly blue, lazily sensual, noted her lips, swollen and red. "I'll have to leave before the other ladies start emerging. One thing — there's blood on the coverlet."

She smiled smugly. "It's all right — it's mine. I brought it. I'll just take it home again."

Lips compressing, he narrowed his eyes, remembered her transparent wrap — not something her mother had bought her for Christmas. She'd planned, and planned well — witness his current position. "Very well." He rolled, taking her, too, pinning her beneath him — not that she struggled. He caught her hands, raised them, pressed them back to the bed on either side of her head, and kissed her — deeply, thoroughly, as he wished.

She undulated beneath him, sinuously sirenlike. Ending the kiss, he lifted his head and used his weight to hold her still. "Not now."

"Surely we have time—"

"No." He hesitated, looking down at her, then bent his head, trailed a kiss to her ear, and whispered, "Next time I

have you, I plan on taking at least an hour, and we'll have to gag you, because I promise you'll scream."

Drawing away, he studied her face. She simply stared back at him, thoughts whizzing behind her eyes.

He smiled — wolfishly. Then he lifted from her and left the bed.

Amelia couldn't remember a single thing about the first night's dinner.

After Luc left her bedchamber, first checking that no one was about to see him flit down the stairs, she'd bestirred herself. Discovering a number of unexpected aches and twinges in muscles she hadn't known she possessed, she'd decided on a bath — a nice long soak during which she could dwell on what her twin had once confirmed as a magical m

oment.

Magical indeed — she'd fallen asleep in the tub. Luckily, Dillys had roused her and bundled her into her gown, dressing her hair high before directing her to the drawing room; if left to herself…

A curious, delightfully pleasant aura had suffused her, making thought, or indeed any exertion seem unnecessary. She'd had to fight to keep a silly, far too-revealing smile from her face. Up until, joining the assembled guests in the drawing room, she'd set eyes on her soon-to-be betrothed.

Rising from curtsying to their hostess, she'd moved to join Emily, speaking earnestly with Lord Kirkpatrick, and immediately felt Luc's gaze. She'd followed it to its source; he was standing chatting with a lady and three gentlemen on the other side of the room.

He met her gaze; despite the distance, she sensed the frown in his. Knew for a fact that he wasn't attending to the comments bandied before him. Then he seemed to recollect himself, hesitated, then addressed himself to the conversation about him.

That glimpse of uncharacteristic uncertainty left her wondering — raised questions in her mind, very quickly left her uncertain, too.

"We're planning on walking to the edge of the Downs tomorrow morning." Lord Kirkpatrick looked at her hopefully. "It's not all that far, and the views are said to be magnificent. Perhaps you'd like to join us?"

"Tomorrow?" She glanced at Emily, and saw a similar hope in her eyes. "I hadn't really thought…" Another glance confirmed that his lordship and Emily both wanted her, a supporter of their blossoming romance, to accompany them so they could spend the time together without a bevy of others looking on. "That is… yes, I would like to get out, weather permitting."

"Of course — weather permitting."

Both his lordship and Emily beamed with gratitude.

Amelia inwardly sighed, resigning herself to a morning of bucolic pleasures tramping through fields and meadows. There were other pleasures she would have preferred, but… she had no idea what Luc was thinking, much less what he was planning for tomorrow.

She felt the touch of his gaze and turned, only once again to sense his brooding frown. Not that such an expression was permitted to mar his Byronic beauty, but she could feel its leaden weight. Again, once their gazes had touched for a moment, he looked away — supposedly distracted by those he was standing with, in reality…

What was he thinking? Emily and Lord Kirkpatrick didn't need her assistance, so she could safely stand beside them and try to work it out. Reviewing all that had occurred through the lazy afternoon, and trying to see it through Luc's eyes, she was assailed by a sinking feeling.

Should she have screamed? Or was the boot on the other foot and, on reflection, had he not liked her forwardness? Had she been too accommodating? Was that even possible with a man — a rake — like him?

Had she, through sheer inexperience, done something he hadn't appreciated?

Was that why he'd left, surely earlier than necessary? He'd been adamant — immovably so — over not indulging with her again, yet he'd been perfectly capable. That wasn't the sort of behavior she'd expected, not from a man of his reputation. She was well aware that since his late teens, he'd had his pick of women, and had never been averse to taking his choice.