On a Wild Night (Cynster 8)

"You're not seriously considering doing any of those things on your so-called list."

She said nothing, merely smiled. Kept her gaze on the courtyard.

"You know very well how your cousins will react."

"They won't know, so they won't react."

"Your parents, then-you can't expect me to believe you can slip out night after night and they won't notice."

"You're right. I can't manage night after night. But…"-she shrugged-"occasionally is not so hard. I've already spent two nights this week outside the ton. There's really no impediment to my plans."

She wondered if the sound she heard was his teeth grinding. She glanced at him-and noticed the other couples returning to the ballroom. Music drifted out to them, muted by the doors. Dexter watched as the last stragglers departed, leaving them alone in the quiet gallery, then he looked back at her.

The silvery light threw the planes of his face into sharp relief, leaving the whole much harsher, more intimidating. He was the descendant of Norman warriors; in this light, he looked it, every angle stripped of its assumed softness, the elegance he wore like a cloak.

She lifted her chin. "I'm determined to experience at least a little excitement-I intend to ask Lord Cranbourne to squire me to Richmond on the next fine night."

Already hard, his face turned to stone. "I can't allow that."

Haughtily, she raised both brows. "Why?"

Not the response he'd expected; a frown gathered in his eyes. "Why?"

"Why do you imagine you have anything to say in the matter? My behavior, my actions, are no concern of yours." She paused before adding, deliberately provocative, "Earl or not."

She shifted to slide past him and head for the ballroom. One hard arm rose; his hand locked on the window frame, caging her. She eyed it, then returned her gaze to his face. Raised an even more haughty brow.

His eyes held hers. Then he raised his hand; fingers curved, he brushed the backs, featherlight, down her cheek.

She quelled the resulting shiver before it showed, yet knew he sensed it. His lips, long, thin, set until then in a straight line, eased. His gaze sharpened. "If you want excitement, you can find it here. There's no need to travel to Richmond."

His voice had deepened; he seemed much closer, although he hadn't moved. His strength and heat were palpable things, beating against her. His eyes held hers; she didn't dare look away. Barely dared to blink.

He leaned closer still, lowered his head. She lost sight of his eyes, fixed her gaze on his lips.

Behind her, she felt the side of the window frame, was grateful for its immovable support.

His head ducked and his lips brushed hers, cruised gently as if testing their resilience, then, not with a swoop but with the confidence of one sure of his welcome, he settled them over hers.

She felt that first kiss all the way to her toes. In response, sweet heat swept up from her soles to her heart. Her breathing locked. She swayed-raised a hand, locked it on the steely arm beside her.

Felt his other hand firm about her jaw, tipping her face up to his.

Alarm bells were ringing in Martin's head with the wild abandon of banshees. He blocked them out; he knew what he was doing, knew that, in this arena, he wielded absolute control. Instead of retreating, he turned his considerable talents to savoring her luscious lips, then teasing them apart.

Within seconds, he realized that although she'd been kissed, she'd never yielded her mouth to any man. He wanted it. Ruthless but still gentle, he shifted his fingers about her chin, pressed-her lips parted. He surged in-sensed her gasp, felt the sudden tensing of her spine.

Lowering his arm, he locked that hand at her waist, steadying her, fingers pressing to her spine, then soothingly shifting along the slender muscles framing it, distracting her, quieting her. Easing her into the caress.

Until she was kissing him back, luring him in, inexpertly but definitely returning each caress. Growing bolder by the minute.

He angled his head and deepened the kiss.

She tasted sweet. Delicate. Vulnerable.

He wanted more-couldn't get enough to appease his sudden need.

Every muscle strained to draw her to him, against him. He resisted, reminding himself just what he was doing-demonstrating to her the dangers in her plan to seek excitement. Drawing her to him would be tempting fate.