Bride for a Night(155)

A gentleman did not seduce infuriating virgins in the front salon of his best friend’s home. At least not before luncheon.

With a low moan, he forced himself to release her enticing lips and lifted his head. Before he could let her go, however, she reached up to slap his face with enough force to make his teeth rattle.

“How dare you!”

His lips twisted as he studied her astonished expression with a brooding gaze. She was naturally outraged at his bold caresses, but he did not miss the heated awareness that burned in the back of her dark eyes.

She was not entirely impervious to his touch.

“It was my intent to prevent you from causing an unpleasant scene,” he murmured. “But I believe I have just been hoisted on my own petard.”

He sensed her hesitation before she wisely decided to ignore his wry confession. Now was not the time to discuss the powerful attraction that had struck him like a bolt of lightning.

Of course, he was not especially pleased when she placed her hands against his chest and attempted to wiggle from his grip.

“Release me,” she commanded.

“Do you promise not to scream?”

“No, I most certainly do not.”

His lips twitched. Stubborn vixen.

“Miss Lansing, I assure you that Talia is in perfect health and that she is in no danger from Gabriel,” he said, attempting to ease her fears. “In fact, he happens to be embarrassingly besotted with her.”

“Then why has she not answered the letters I sent?”

Hugo shrugged, regretting that he and Gabriel had yet to discuss the story they intended to invent in explanation of their sudden disappearance.

How the hell was he to put off this female with vague lies and bluster?

And of course it did not help that he was perilously distracted by the feel of her palms that remained pressed against his chest and the curvaceous hips that were perfectly fitted between his thighs.

“She has spent the past weeks away from Carrick Park,” he announced.

“Really?” She narrowed her gaze in disbelief. “Where did she go?”

“She was sailing with her husband upon their yacht.”

“Sailing?”

“It is customary for newlyweds to enjoy a honeymoon trip,” he retorted with the thought it would be unshakable logic. “And what better place to find privacy than in the midst of the ocean?”

Naturally she leaped upon the fatal flaw of his story.

“And you joined them on this supposed honeymoon trip?”

“Of course.” His smile was closer to a grimace. “I am a devoted sailor.”

She rolled her eyes. “I do not believe you.”

And why should she? Hugo ground his teeth, his usually clever wits refusing to cooperate as he searched for an explanation. Then, like a gift from God, he caught sight of Gabriel and Talia strolling toward the stables beside the manor house.

Perhaps his luck was changing.

“Then believe this,” he muttered, grasping her hand and towing her toward the window. “Does Talia appear to be frightened or unhappy?”

She jerked from his grasp, but as she caught sight of the couple strolling arm in arm her belligerent expression softened, the tension easing from her luscious body.

As well it should, he wryly acknowledged. Not even Miss Lansing could fail to notice the devotion in Gabriel’s expression as he gazed down at his wife, or the manner that she snuggled into his side, as if she could not be close enough to his larger form.

In silence they watched as the two disappeared through the stone archway leading to the stable yard. Then, clenching her hands at her sides, Miss Lansing turned to stab him with a puzzled glower.