Hero, Come Back (Cynster 9.50)

And tempt him she did. While she continued to protest for a few moments, to his surprise, she didn’t send him flying into a heap. Just as quickly as he had taken her into his arms, she was clinging to him. She opened her mouth to him and welcomed his kiss.

A sense of awe filled his heart. Jemmy forgot his leg, forgot that she was a guest in his parents’ home, and kissed her thoroughly, tempting and teasing her until her arms wound around his neck, and she rose up on her tiptoes to get even closer to him.

Then came the unavoidable part of temptation, for once he’d tasted her lips, a kiss wasn’t enough. His fingers tugged off her bonnet so they could splay in the silken strands hidden beneath. Emboldened by his success, he pushed aside her pelisse, his thumb tracing the neckline of her gown, down to the rounded curves of her full, firm breasts. Beneath his palm he could feel the hard peaks of her nipples, the hammering of her heart—thrumming with the same desire that had his blood pounding.

Reverently he cupped her breast and started to stoke a new fire within her.

At this, she broke away from him, one hand at the neckline of her gown, the other covering her lips, her eyes alight with a newfound awareness.

Then the realization hit him. Egads, she’d never been kissed. And while his next thought was to kiss her again, Miss Smythe had other ideas.

She backed away from him until she hit the dressing table chair. “Why not?”

“Why not, what?” he asked distractedly, his gaze fixed on her lips. He took a step closer to her, to those damnable, kissable lips.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why can’t I leave? I thought you were going to help me.”

Oh, that again.

“I will,” he told her, dipping his head down to steal another kiss, but the lady wasn’t as willing this time. She dodged him and shoved a chair between them. He counted himself lucky that she hadn’t chosen to send him sprawling as she had earlier in the day.

“No more of…of…that,” she sputtered, pointing at him with an accusing finger. “I doubt such foolery will see me to Brighton.”

Jemmy grinned. “Ah, but it would make the journey more pleasant.”

She blushed quite prettily.

He took a step closer to her. “I promised to see you out of this bargain, and I will.”

“The sooner the better,” she told him. “Before this betrothal ball of your mother’s gets out of hand.”

Jemmy flinched. Nothing better to warm a lady’s heart toward one than being the bearer of bad news. “Too late for that,” he warned her. “Mother’s determined to empty London for your sake.”

Whatever color had been in her cheeks draine

d away. “What has she done?”

“Invited most everyone. The house is going to be overflowing. She’s determined to make a spectacular match for you.”

The bride-to-be shot a hasty glance back over at the window. He didn’t blame her. If he were about to be offered up before society like a sacrificial lamb, not even Finch Manor’s three stories and the thorniest collection of shrubbery in the land would keep him from escaping.

And neither would it prevent Miss Smythe, he guessed.

He shoved the chair aside and took her in his arms again. “I will help you,” he insisted, mostly because the last thing he wanted was her leaving without him. Not for the reasons some might suspect. He tried telling himself again that it wouldn’t do for her to go gallivanting across the countryside unescorted.

Why, it was scandalous and dangerous to boot.

Unlike being alone in her bedchamber and kissing her? his conscience prodded. He shook off that notion. His intentions were honorable. Well, almost noble.

Though if he was entirely honest, with her lithesome and delectable body pressed against his, he knew his intentions were anything but virtuous. More like agonizing. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her and not stop there.

“I must be gone,” she said, struggling a bit in his arms, though even he knew that if she’d wanted to be away from him, she could have mustered the wherewithal.

“You can’t sneak out now,” he told her. “Not with everyone up and in a frenzy over this ball. Why, they’ll be at it until after midnight, I would guess.”

Even as he said the words, he saw her catch hold of that one piece of essential information. Midnight.

Damn the chit. But before he could tell her not to consider leaving without him, there came a knock at the door.