Chapter 21

God help her, she did know. She wanted it, too. She tested her lip. A kiss wouldn’t hurt too terribly badly, and she suspected

the pleasure he’d deliver would far outweigh the pain she’d experience. The challenge would be producing the smile he required

without grimacing.

“Much more than a kiss,” he said darkly, before turning his attention away.

“But it starts with a kiss.”

“It doesn’t have to.”

He hadn’t needed to kiss her last night to send her soaring. She hated to admit that she wasn’t looking forward to sleeping

alone tonight. Strange how after only two nights, the notion of not having him with her in bed made her feel that something

important was missing.

Stepping back, he faced her and traced a blunt-tipped finger lightly along her cheek, careful not to touch any of her injuries.

“Poppy’s announcement during dinner came as no surprise to you.”

She’d hoped he’d let the entire matter go, ignore it, give it no credence. She should have known he wouldn’t. With barely a shake of her head followed by a nod to shore up her resolve, she forced out the words that she’d been striving to escape ever since she’d read them, words that in a way had delivered her to his island. “The day of the storm... the Times included an announcement regarding... Hollie’s betrothal.”

She was rather proud of the fact that her voice had come out neutral, giving away none of her riotous emotions concerning

the matter. The shock of it. She hadn’t anticipated they’d stay together until their hair turned silver, but neither had she

expected a parting to come out of the blue. Rather like a storm that had arrived without warning. One minute the sun was shining,

and, the next, black clouds obliterated it.

“Why didn’t you mention it?”

“I’ve been striving to determine exactly how I feel about it.” And it was convenient to have Hollie as a buffer between them,

saved her from doing what she ought not with Langdon. But she’d done some of it anyway. And she suspected she was on the verge

of doing a good deal more.

“Is that the reason you went up in your balloon in spite of the dangers?”

“To be honest, the dark clouds were so far in the distance, on the horizon, I was certain I’d descend before they became a

problem. However, I became so lost in thought that I was being swept out over the sea before I even realized how far I’d actually

traveled. Then I got into a spot of bother and... well, you know the rest.”

“The rest, but not all of the before or how you feel about it now.”

Normally she took a great deal of pride in her ability to capture someone’s rapt attention, but she was rather wishing Langdon

would turn his focus elsewhere. Instead, his gaze was thoroughly assessing her as though searching for rips in the fabric

of her being, much as she’d searched for tears in the silk of her balloon. Did there have to be a full moon tonight that made

her so easy to see? She cleared her throat. “The announcement came as a complete surprise because I was unaware he was even

courting anyone. No hints appeared in the gossip columns, so it was a bit of a shock. Did you know he was wooing someone?”

“No.”

“As Lady Euphemia Harrington is a dear friend of your sister’s, I assume you know her. What can you tell me about her?” She

hadn’t meant to ask, wasn’t interested in others’ opinion of the lady. She’d thought she only cared what Hollie believed.

Strange to realize she cared a great deal more for Langdon’s assessment.

“Her father is the Earl of Wakefield.”

She detected a measure of sympathy in his voice. She’d never been comfortable with sympathy, had always believed that receiving

it indicated a weakness in herself, a lack of strength when it came to facing the world. And yet from him, it seemed more

comforting than it should.

“I’ve always found her to be agreeable,” he continued.

If it wouldn’t have started her lip bleeding again, she would have laughed uproariously. “That’s very noncommittal.”

“She’s very much the opposite of you.”

“Upstanding and without sin.”

He shook his head. “She blends into the wallpaper, but even wallflowers are worthy of attention. I doubt her name will ever

grace a gossip column. Do you love him?”

She was very skilled at reading the messages relayed in men’s posture. She’d picked up the talent from Hollie. When they’d

first begun their association, whenever they went to a club and wandered through it, he’d pointed to one man or another and

asked her what he was conveying without words to his partner or someone else to whom he was speaking.

The language of the body, Marlowe, is always far more honest than the language of words , he’d told her.

And so it was that based on the tightening of Langdon’s jaw and the subtle stiffening of his body, he was bracing for a blow.

She wished she could climb into her balloon and go up into the sky where it was remarkably quiet and still, so she could decipher

why he might react in such a manner. Reading a man’s body didn’t always allow her to read his mind.

“Quite possibly but not in the way to which you might be... alluding. Certainly, I hold a great deal of affection for him,

but I’m not in love with him.”

“Love is love.”

“Poppycock. There are as many different facets to love as there are stars in the sky. You should see the stars from a balloon, up above the earth. They are like diamonds strewn across black velvet. They look close enough to pluck.”

“You fly at night? You didn’t get caught out after dark by accident?”

“Dusk is the best time to go. You can see the magnificence of the sunset from on high. In addition, at night, the wind currents

are at their calmest. It’s like being surrounded by peace.”

“That’s what you were looking for. Peace.”

Perhaps he was as skilled as she at reading people. “I had always assumed when Hollie met the woman he intended to wed or

began a courtship—whether or not it came to fruition—he would seek my opinion on the matter or at least extend the courtesy

of letting me know his thoughts were occupied with someone else. I’ve not seen him in a little over a month, but that’s not

uncommon when the Season isn’t fully underway and he’s spending more time at his estate than in London. Still, I can’t imagine

that he hasn’t been pursuing her for some time.”

“His talk of another woman wouldn’t have made you jealous?”

It should have, shouldn’t it? However, she’d never considered him truly hers. He was simply... on loan. She liked him well enough, enjoyed his company, but she’d never invested her heart, because she’d known as an earl, he was obligated to marry. While he was perfectly comfortable flaunting her about London, he’d never flaunt her inside a church. She was someone with whom he could have a bit of fun. Not someone to whom he’d have a duty.

“Mistresses don’t have the luxury of jealousy,” she said, wishing she didn’t sound so bitter about it. “So now you know why

I made such a poor decision the night of the storm.” And why she’d asked to put off her return to London. And then decided

it all needed to be faced.

She felt the tears sting her eyes and furiously blinked them back. “Truth be told, I have been melancholy... and angry

that Hollie hadn’t the courage to tell me to my face but had left me to discover his future plans in the newspaper.”

“For what it’s worth, he should have told you before having the announcement printed.”

“Is that what you would have done?”

“If I had a mistress and a similar situation arose.”

“You say that now but when it comes to actually facing a woman’s hurt or wrath—”

“I’m not a coward.”

He said it with such conviction, she had no choice except to believe him. And she was much more interested in discovering

things about him than continuing to discuss Hollie’s upcoming nuptials. “You mentioned that things don’t always have to start

with a kiss.”

“Did Hollingsworth teach you that they were required?”

“He has his own way of doing things, and he doesn’t stray from them.”

His fingers went into her hair, and she felt a little tug. In what would be darkness without the moonlight, she couldn’t see what he held but it appeared he tossed it aside. And then a few tendrils of her hair fell down to her shoulders.

“Hence, with him, it’s always the same,” he said, his voice low, speculative as though he was striving to envision what her

life in London might entail.

Another tug, more tresses falling.

“When he comes to me, and we stay in, we never stray into uncharted territory. You, my lord, are uncharted territory.”

“Does that frighten you?”

Terrifies me. Excites me.

“I think it’s important for you to know that while the law does not require that I remain faithful to Hollie—after all, we

took no marriage vows, signed no church registry—I have never strayed. However, of late, there has been a discontentment in

me”—she squeezed her eyes shut. A discontentment that had only grown since the night at the Twin Dragons—“that I think Hollie

has recognized. It may be the reason he made that atrocious wager with you.”

She felt his pull on the hairpin, was aware of him tossing it aside. More strands falling. Suddenly she was finding it difficult

to breathe. Her body was growing warm.

“I wouldn’t have bedded you that night. Although I may have indulged enough to kiss you silly. I like Hollingsworth. But I

like you more.” Another hairpin was tossed aside, and the rest of her hair tumbled down around her shoulders. Placing his

hand between the wayward strands and her neck, he moved the tresses aside and lowered his head. “I wouldn’t want to do anything

to make you feel... tawdry.”

Then his mouth, heated and open, was covering her skin, just below her jaw, near her ear. Her knees went weak, and she found herself clutching his upper arms as his hands clamped around her waist and drew her near. “I’m a mistress. I’m supposed to be tawdry.”

He growled. “You smell so good. You feel so good. You taste so good. I want to taste more of you.”

“I want to taste you.”

“Christ.” He pulled back and studied her. The moonlight captured the silver of his eyes and turned them molten. They were

smoldering with desire.

Hollie had never looked at her that way. It created a burning low in her belly and between her thighs. She knew what Langdon

could give her, desperately wanted it. “Although he and I have not yet officially parted ways, I don’t see that Hollie could

fault me for wanting this, for taking it.”

“I would if you were mine.” He looked toward the residence, where only a few windows revealed the glow of lamps.

“They were all retiring for the night. I came out here to let you know... and got distracted.”

“Mother gave you a chamber in the family wing.”

“Beside Poppy’s room. We’d have to be very quiet.”

“The other wing has bedchambers.” He lifted her into his arms. “You have until we’re nearer the residence to let me know if I turn to the left to deliver you to your bedchamber in the family wing, where you’ll sleep alone. Or if I turn to the right, toward the guest wing, where you’ll be mine until just before dawn.”

As he began striding forward, she circled her tongue around the shell of his ear before whispering, “Turn right. For the love

of God, turn right.”