The Irresistible Rogue (Playful Brides #4)(22)

His hands moved up into her hair and loosened the pins holding up her chignon. His fingers rubbed along the back of her neck. Gooseflesh popped up along her bare arms.

What was that about there being no passion? Rubbish.

He kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, her temple, and when his hot tongue traced the seashell of her ear, Daphne’s entire body bucked. One of his hands went to her hip to steady her. It burned through her skirts, scorching her. She suddenly had the urge to flip up her skirts and let his hands move along her thighs, up, up, until—

No. This was only supposed to be a kiss. But she couldn’t think with him touching her like this.

His mouth was back on hers. Her fingers threaded through the short hair along the back of his neck. She was clutching his muscled shoulders for dear life. Afraid that if she let go, she’d fall, or cease to exist. It was like there was only him in the universe and nothing else mattered.

His teeth tugged at her bottom lip and she moaned. His mouth slanted over hers again. Again. Fiery hot slashes of lust roiled through her entire body, pooled at a spot between her legs where she desperately wanted his hand.

“Rafe, I—”

But her thought was forever lost to the sound of the door opening and someone’s throat clearing.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN




Daphne snapped from her haze. Dear God. Who was it? She hastily pushed away from Rafe and slid onto the opposite corner of the settee. Rafe had apparently heard it, too. They both swung their guilty gazes toward the door to see Lucy Hunt standing there, her eyes politely averted.

Rafe stood, cleared his throat, and adjusted his breeches. “We’re just … I’m—”

“Not to worry, Captain Cavendish. I didn’t see a thing,” Lucy said. “And had I seen a thing, rest assured that I most certainly would never repeat that news to a soul.”

Rafe straightened to his full height. It seemed to Daphne that his shoulders bowed a bit in relief. Was he that pleased to know that the person who had caught them in a compromising position was someone who could be counted on to keep it to herself? Hrmph.

“I’ll just get back to the ballroom. Good evening, Lady Daphne.” Rafe bowed to Daphne, then to Lucy. “Your grace.”

He strode past Lucy, who had a tiny smile on her face. “Good evening, Captain.”

The door shut behind him and Lucy tilted her head to one side and arched a brow at Daphne.

Daphne’s head was still reeling. How was it possible that something that had begun so, so, uninterestingly, had turned into that. The footman and the housemaid had seemed to be quite taken with each other, but even they couldn’t have felt anything like that. Daphne was certain of it. If they had, there was no way they could have done so while standing. Even now her legs felt like water and she didn’t dare stand. She could also barely look at Lucy.

Lucy whistled. “Well done.”

Daphne put her hand to her forehead. What was wrong with her? She still felt too hot. Was it possible that she’d been struck by malaria? In London? She had been to the milliner’s last week. And the fabric shop. Perhaps she’d caught malaria there. Yes. The fabric shop was the likely culprit.

“Well what?” She mustn’t have heard the duchess correctly.

“I said well done. That man is gorgeous. Now, do you want to explain what that was about?” Lucy waved her hand toward the door.

“What?” Stalling was a tactic that had usually worked on her brothers.

Lucy moved closer to the settee. “You’re beginning to echo, dear. Now out with it. Explain yourself.”

“I don’t think I can.” Daphne winced.

Lucy stamped forward and slid onto the settee next to Daphne. “No you don’t. You’re going to cough up the details and now. And while you’re at it, might I suggest you see about your hair.”

Daphne’s hand flew to her coiffure. The mess of pins had come loose.

“Here, lean forward. I’ll help,” Lucy offered.

Daphne nodded shakily. “Thank you, your grace.”

“Now, none of that. I thought we established at Julian and Cass’s wedding that you were to call me Lucy.”

“Yes, Lucy. Though I must say it feels quite queer to have a duchess acting as my lady’s maid.”

“We must adapt to our circumstances, mustn’t we? Now, stop trying to stall. I’m ever so familiar with that tactic. You’re speaking to the lady who came up with the idea to hire a nonexistent chaperone for Jane Lowndes. In fact, I was explaining the concept to your cousin Delilah earlier. I like that girl. She reminds me of me when I was a child.”

Daphne had to smile at that. “Very well, I’ll explain. But promise me you won’t tell Julian.”

Lucy clucked her tongue. “Of course I won’t tell Julian, but you’re going to tell me. What exactly is going on between you and Captain Cavendish?”

Daphne expelled her breath. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea.”

“You are still married to him, aren’t you?”

Daphne groaned. Lucy and Derek had been there last spring when Daphne had announced to Julian and Cass that she was married to Rafe and she needed an annulment. At the time it had seemed logical to tell her brother and his friends all at once. Daphne knew for certain that Julian would tell Cass and Cass would tell Lucy and once Lucy knew, there was little hope of Jane Lowndes and Lucy’s cousin Garrett Upton not finding out. The six of them were as thick as thieves, after all. And all of them could be trusted, but now Daphne wished she hadn’t been quite so loose-lipped. “Yes.” Daphne glanced around. “But please keep your voice down.”