A Dash of Scandal(63)

At his warm touch Millicent’s legs weakened and she pressed closer to him, needing his strength to withstand his sensual assault. She didn’t know why her breasts were so sensitive to his slightest touch or why she felt such an eagerness to explore all these new and wonderful sensations with him.

His warm, soft lips left hers and he kissed her cheeks, her neck, behind her ear. Everywhere his lips touched her she tingled with awareness.

“I can’t understand why your kisses make my legs feel weak and my insides feel like they are fluttering.”

He raised his head and looked down at her and smiled. “That means you are extremely attracted to me.”

“Does it?”

He nodded.

“But how can that be when I think you are a rake and not to be trusted?”

“Perhaps that is some of the allure.”

She remembered what happened to her mother. Is this how her mother had felt?

Millicent shook her head. “No. I fear it is deeper than that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. I shouldn’t be in your arms. God forbid Glenda or Mrs. Brown should walk in here and see me kissing you.”

He gave her a reassuring smile and held her tighter. “No one will see us. I’ve told you that I have had years of practice avoiding chaperones and maids. They usually make a shuffling sound with their feet or some other noise to alert their charge that they are coming. They really don’t want to catch us in a compromising position, you know.”

“Chandler, do I make your legs feel weak and your stomach fluttery?”

He laughed softly, seductively, but his gaze never left hers. It was as if he wanted her to see inside him and know that he spoke the truth. “Yes, and it means I’m very, extremely attracted to you.”

“But I am not a rake. So where is the allure for you?”

“Not a rake, but you are a seducer.”

“And that makes me attractive?”

“It must because I desire you more than any other lady I have ever wanted. Every movement you make, every word you say makes me want to take you into my arms and kiss you like this.”

He dipped his head again and captured her lips with his. Gone was the kiss of his lips moving gently over hers. This was a wild kiss that plundered her mouth, bruised her lips and filled her with hunger and passion for more and more. She didn’t understand the feelings he created inside her, but she didn’t have to understand them to enjoy them.

At the farthest reaches of her mind, Millicent heard a noise—tea cups rattling on a tray. Chandler must have heard it too because he immediately let her go and stepped away.

He swallowed hard. “Your maid, I’m sure, bringing in the tea.”

Millicent gasped.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of her and give you a moment to catch your breath.”

He strode to the doorway and blocked it by standing in the middle with one arm braced against the doorjamb. “I’m sorry I can’t stay longer, Miss Blair. No, no time for tea. Not for me. Do tell Lady Beatrice I hope she is up and about soon. And I will give thought to those apricot tarts. Give my regards to Lady Heathecoute.”

Chandler continued talking nonsense for the benefit of Glenda, standing on the opposite side of the door, but Millicent ceased to hear. What was she going to do? She had no will when it came to Lord Dunraven.

He was charming and devilish and his kisses made her forget sound reasoning, made her forget what had happened to her mother. He was bad for her, but he made her feel good.

She walked back over to the window and looked out. Would this alliance with Chandler end up making her one of London’s biggest scandals?





Thirteen




“Men at some time are masters of their fates,” and so it is with Lord Dunraven. Convinced that it was no ghost that stole the family raven, he has solicited the help of a private source, which he refuses to disclose.

—Lord Truefitt, Society’s Daily Column

Chandler Prestwick, earl of Dunraven, sat alone in a secluded corner of one of the four private gentlemen’s clubs in London that he belonged to, sipping a glass of claret. He had chosen this club because it was the smallest and he was less likely to be bothered by anyone wanting to claim his attention.

He’d spent some time at the gaming and billiards tables, but it didn’t take him long to realize he wasn’t in the mood for the games. He was too distracted by thoughts of Millicent Blair.