A Gentleman Never Tells(4)
He sensed a measure of hesitancy in her voice when she calmly said, “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
He didn’t believe for a moment she didn’t know what he was referring to, but he decided not to call her on it. He simply raised a questioning eyebrow again and said, “Perhaps something unusual has happened this morning, and that is why you are in the park without benefit of a proper chaperone or guardian.”
Brent was certain she blushed, and then she intrigued him even more by lowering her lashes for a moment, as if she wanted to shield something from him.
But what?
The first shards of daylight spread across the horizon, making it easier for Brent to see just how lovely she was. He hadn’t seen the sky on a cloudless summer’s day that could hold a candle to the blue of her eyes. Every movement she made seemed graceful and natural for her, but to him they were inviting and seductive.
“No,” she said, not meeting his gaze. “I just had to clear my, I mean, I just wanted to get away and be alone for a little while before the day began.”
He doubted whatever had brought her to the park was as simple as that. “Surely I don’t have to tell you it is not in your best interest to be in the park by yourself at this time of morning, or at any time for that matter.”
She lifted her chin as if to challenge his concern. “I am not worried about unsavory people out to make mischief, sir. As you can see, I have Brutus here to protect me.”
Brent knew it to be true the breed of mastiff was a good guard dog, but now that it was brighter, he could see Brutus more clearly. The dog looked to be quite old. A closer look at the black soulful eyes, gray muzzle, and droopy face, not to mention a total lack of interest in sniffing Prissy, confirmed Brent’s assessment that the mastiff’s best days were behind him.
“No doubt Brutus has a heart as big as the ships that sail the Thames, and in his younger years, it’s not hard to imagine he would have been a fierce protector. His size alone might still send some ruffians running; but whether he can protect you from danger now or not, he cannot protect you from scandal, and that might be your greatest concern.”
She shrugged her shoulders, and even that common, unobtrusive gesture aroused him.
Her gaze stayed locked on his. “Perhaps you are right about that, sir, but I have no fear from someone who is considerate enough to walk his mother’s dog.”
“It’s true you have nothing to fear from me, but alas, I cannot be your chaperone.”
She stepped closer, though for half a second he had the distinct feeling this confident young lady was suddenly uncertain. But the thought vanished when she surprised him by reaching up to touch the side of his face. Even though she wore a cotton glove, he felt heat and gentleness in her hand, and he caught the intoxicating scent of rosewater on her skin.
“You seem a kind and decent man.” She hesitated, and then drew a deep breath. “Forgive me,” she whispered.
She rose on her toes and placed her lips on his. Brent was stunned by her action, but as her body leaned into his and her lips pressed against his, surprise was replaced by an intense and immediate feral desire to possess her, which he struggled to control.
Her lips were soft and warm despite the chill of the morn, and he was lost to her tender kiss. It took a moment before it filtered into his brain that she wasn’t really very good at kissing, though she was trying hard to play the seductress. That simple fact made her all the more intriguing and desirable.
When her arms wound around his neck and her lips parted, Brent dropped Prissy’s leash and drew her gently into his embrace. Though he had no idea why, this woman was obviously serious with her intentions, and his body could no longer resist her attempt at seduction.
Brent coaxed her lips farther apart and tasted the warmth of her mouth, teasing her with his tongue. He slid his hands inside her cape and around her waist to the small of her back and felt her feminine softness. She gasped into his mouth when he brought her tightly against him. She was slender, yet very womanly melting into his arms. Beneath her wrap, his hand roved up and down the sensuous curve of her small waist and gentle flare of her shapely hips.
He couldn’t believe how wonderful and sweet her pliant lips felt beneath his. A rampant hunger sprang up inside him, and he deepened the kiss, letting his mouth cover hers more fully, frantically seeking her inner depths. She matched his hunger as if she had been yearning just for his touch. His hand moved up her rib cage to settle over the soft, tempting swell of her breast, and his insides quivered at how delicious she felt. Beneath his hand, her chest heaved with each determined breath, each skillful caress. A soft, involuntary whimper passed her lips, and her arms tightened around him. Her fingers dug into the thick fabric of his greatcoat.