Bride for a Night(154)

“Move aside,” she snapped.

In response, he leaned a broad shoulder against the doorjamb, careful to ensure his large form managed to consume the entire entryway. He suspected she intended to slip past him the moment he was distracted.

And oh, it would be so easy to distract him, he acknowledged, his gaze lingering on those full, sensuous lips.

“Where do you think you are going?” he demanded.

“If you will not bring Talia to me, then I will find her myself.”

His gaze lifted to meet her furious glare. “Why are you so concerned?”

“Why?” She appeared briefly baffled by his question. “She is my friend.”

“Forgive my confusion, but it is my understanding that Talia’s friends have made her life in London a misery.”

She stiffened, clearly offended to be included among those who had bullied Talia.

“If you speak of those spiteful vipers who make a sport of tormenting the less-favored females, they were never Talia’s friends, nor was she ever foolish enough to consider them as such,” she retorted sharply. “It was her father who forced her to spend time in their company.”

“And you?”

“I think it should be perfectly obvious that I was a fellow wallflower who endured a similar fate as Talia,” she said, a hint of resolute pride in her voice. “We are friends because we comprehend what it means to be outcasts from society.”

A strange, distinctly alarming emotion flared to life in the center of his heart. An emotion that Hugo was certain was far more dangerous than all English traitors and French spies combined.

Attempting to ignore the sensation, he reached to straighten the cameo that was pinned to the amber ribbon encircling her neck, his fingers lingering on the satin heat of her skin.

“Forgive me,” he murmured. “I should not have teased you.”

Her pulse leaped beneath the light brush of his fingers. But with an obvious effort not to be diverted, she reached up to bat away his hand.

“I do not desire your pity,” she informed him sharply. “I wish to see Talia.”

He shrugged. He no longer believed that Miss Lansing was anything but a concerned friend who had traveled to Devonshire to make certain that Talia was not being mistreated by her husband. But he had promised Gabriel that he would be rid of the female.

He intended to keep his word, although he was willing to offer Miss Lansing the assurance that Talia was alive and well.


“I fear that is impossible at the moment. However, I promise—”

He cut off his soothing words as she parted her lips, her eyes dark with warning. Bloody hell, she actually intended to carry out her threat.

Without conscious thought he swooped his head downward, locking his mouth over her parted lips to prevent her determined scream.

He had no intention beyond stopping her from alarming the servants and disturbing Talia. At least that was what he told himself as he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping into the warm cavern of her mouth.

The convenient excuse, however, did not explain why he wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her against his stirring body. Or why he closed his eyes to savor the tangy scent of lemons that clung to her soft curls.

Despite her short stature, she fit against his large form with startling perfection, he mused, enjoying the sensation of generous curves filling his arms rather than the wispy fragility of most society women. A man of his size disliked the sensation he was about to crush his lover.

Lover…

The word teased the edge of his mind, sending a jolt of warning through his aching body. Dammit, what the hell was he doing?