One Night With You (The Derrings #3)(8)

He dropped down from a branch, landing hard on his feet with a sprig of apple blossoms in his hand. With great care, he secured the delicate bundle over Madeline's ear. The most extraordinary look glowed in his eyes. Tenderness, devotion, and desire. All for Madeline. Something had died within Jane then, a flame sputtering and extinguishing from that single look—a look she had one day prayed to receive, a look he gave to another, her sister. A shudder washed through Jane and she pushed the unwanted memory to the shadows of her mind with a small shake of her head. Opening her eyes, she found Seth staring intently at her.

"Where'd you go?" he murmured, his eyes dark and probing.

She sucked in a breath and dipped her head, almost afraid he could read her thoughts, glimpse the dark roads her mind traveled. He placed a finger beneath her chin and forced her gaze back up with a single burning touch.

Unable to resist, she leaned into his touch, wanting to feel more than that one finger on her, hungering for what she had missed, what had never been hers.

Surprise flickered in his eyes. His gaze scanned her face, assessing, inquiring with a lift of his slashing black brows. His fingers slid beneath her chin, skimming the soft line of her jaw. A sigh escaped her.

He swallowed visibly, the tendons along his throat working.

Recalling herself, she pulled back before she did something truly foolish. Like forget herself entirely. With a man who would have nothing to do with her if he knew her identity. Desperate to escape his nearness, his touch, his heat, she stepped back until she felt cold glass penetrating the fabric of her gown.

Only he followed, caging her in, the muscles along his square jaw knotting, rippling beneath the scar. A feverish gleam entered his eyes. He slid long fingers over her cheek, sparking a fire in her blood that forced the air from her mouth in a hiss.

The calluses of his palm rasped her skin as he gazed down at her, the dark centers of his eyes glowing. "Are you real? Or some enchantress?"

His hot look robbed her of breath, especially when her last memory of him contained no such looks. In fact, he had looked at her very little in the end. In the end, she had simply not existed to him.

"Why do you look at me so?" His hoarse voice scraped over her nerves. Hysteria bubbled up inside her.

Because I loved you. Once. When I knew you. When you knew me.

She didn't know what undid her more, the heat of his gaze or the way his touch made her come alive after years of living numb.

She didn't know, but she didn't dare let herself find out.

And why not? You're no insipid virgin. Why not experience everything his hot look promised?

Everything you've never had? Everything you ever wanted? Would that not be the ultimate exercise in freedom?

Her gaze dropped to his mouth, the lips wide and sensual despite the scar. She leaned forward, letting her breasts graze his chest, imagining tracing her tongue over that corner of his mouth. Her belly clenched.

He didn't know who hid behind the scrap of satin—that she hid.

She could embrace anonymity… embrace him. One kiss.

One sample and she could experience what she had missed as a girl. And later as a woman. As Marcus's wife.

A bolt of anticipation shot through her, followed by something else. A cold douse of fear. Fear of discovery, fear of stepping outside herself for even a brief moment and doing something so bold. For daring to make long-held dreams a reality.

Swallowing down the thickness in her throat, she gave herself a hard mental shake and let fear win.

Pulling back her shoulders, she stifled a cringe at the feel of cold glass against her bare shoulders and forced herself to resist the dark pull of his gaze.

In as stern a voice as she could manage, she ordered, "Step aside, sir."





Chapter 5


Seth stared at the woman trapped between his chest and the window, commanding himself to move away, to respect her request. But he could not force himself to budge, relishing the feel of her soft curves far too much.

He had watched her with keen interest from the moment she burst into the room. How could he not? Even if her odd behavior had not attracted his notice, her appearance would have.

He eyed the length of her now—tall, stately, full-bodied. Bloody hell, the woman had curves. More than enough to fill his hands and mouth. His gut tightened with desire. In the room's gloom, her hair gleamed dark as the night sea, and her eyes, an indeterminate color in her black domino, burned through him with a ferocity he felt in his blood. He wanted her. Badly.

Even more astonishing, he felt certain she wanted him. Scar and all. Reason enough to keep her trapped in his arms.

His gaze slid over her, a ray of golden light in his arms. "Aurora." She blinked long lashes. "That's not my name—"

"No? What is your name?"

Her plump lips compressed.

"Then I shall call you Aurora. Fitting, I think." The Goddess of Dawn herself could not dazzle him more.

She gazed up at him with wide-eyed solemnity.

He had never seen a sadder pair of eyes, eyes that called to him, that seemed to… need him. Against his will, he felt himself sinking, falling under her spell.

Fired by whatever it was about her that moved him, he took her face in both hands and lowered his head, ready to claim her mouth for himself, to see if she tasted as sweet as he imagined. Small hands pushed at his chest. He stopped, his lips a hairsbreadth from her own.