“I dislike the problems he is intent upon causing for our family by expressing his desire to marry an unsuitable fortune-hunter,” he corrected coolly, watching her with such unflappable calm that he might not have been speaking of her at all.
Except, he was. And he was insulting her yet again. Why, it was fortunate indeed for Viscount Lindsey that he was so pleasant to look upon, for the moment he opened his mouth, he was rendered altogether disagreeable. If he were to just stand in the corner, looking handsome and masculine and ducal without uttering a word, it would suit Pen just fine.
“I am not a fortune hunter,” she ground out, her denial stinging. “And Aidan is due far more respect than you have shown him. He may be a devil-may-care but he ain’t a bad cove. His heart is good.”
He was just occasionally misguided and reckless.
Perhaps more than occasionally.
But never mind that. Lord Lordly had no right to disparage him so!
The viscount’s icy gaze searched hers. “You expect me to believe that you are hopelessly in love with my brother and that you are not merely manipulating him into forming one of the worst mésalliances of the century because you are hungry for his money and his familial connections. Is that not correct?”
Agreeing would be disingenuous.
“I never said I was hopelessly in love with him,” she pointed out.
“Ah. There we have it. The truth at last.”
His grim pronouncement nettled her. “You are deliberately misunderstanding me, my lord.”
“Am I?” A new, contemptuous smile pulled the corners of his aristocratic mouth upward.
“Yes, curse you.” Her fingers curled into her palms in impotent outrage. She did not think she had ever been so vexed with another person in her life.
He surprised her by taking another step closer, bringing their bodies flush. Although he did not touch Pen, he may as well have with the effect his sudden nearness was having upon her.
“Shall I prove just how right I am about you, Miss Sutton?” he asked, his deep voice losing some of its ice.
There was something about the abrupt shift in his rich baritone that held her briefly spellbound. When he was not at his most cutting, Lord Lordly was capable of impressive charm. She could almost allow herself to become lost in the depths of his eyes, to admire his rigid jaw, cleanly shaven but already with the hint of whiskers shadowing the masculine angle. Or to become distracted by the temptation of his mouth.
Fortunately, she was made of sterner stuff, and having been bamboozled by a handsome rogue once before, she would never allow herself to be so swindled again.
She tipped back her chin in defiance, refusing to retreat. “Please do, Lord Lordly.”
After all, there was no means by which he could prove she was an avaricious fortune hunter. She did not even want to marry Aidan. Or anyone.
“With pleasure,” he said smoothly.
And then his high and mighty lordship did something else that was cause for further astonishment. He slid an arm around her waist and drew her into his tall, imperious frame. Gently and slowly, giving her ample opportunity to object. Fool that she was, Pen found herself melting against him, the weakest part of her nature reveling in the heat and strength he exuded. A swift inhalation of shock provided another element of teasing to her senses. He smelled of citrus and bay and musk. Fresh and crisp and expensive and lordly.
Of course he did.
His head dipped, his handsome face drawing nearer to hers.
He was going to kiss her.
Good heavens, this entitled, arrogant lord intended to put his mouth on hers.
She could object. She should object.
She was not going to. Her hands, which had been largely idle at her sides during the course of their conversation, moved to his shoulders. Her fingers uncurled, resting lightly on the expensive wool of his coat.
He could kiss her all he liked. She would remain unmoved. She was sure she would feel absolutely nothing for this conceited…
His mouth was hot. Hesitant. The barest brush of those smirking patrician lips over hers. Once. Twice. Oh dear. Something stranger still happened. A fluttery sensation started low in her belly. Heat bloomed everywhere.
And Pen’s arms slid around his neck, pulling him closer as her mouth responded to his.
* * *
Mistake.
This was a mistake. A terrible, egregious, despicable one. Had he not learned his lesson years ago with Veronica? What was he doing?
His mind was galloping faster than a runaway horse, trying to warn him of all the reasons why he ought to put an end to his impulsive decision to demonstrate to the both of them that she was not in love with Aidan. That there was only one reason she wanted to marry his brother, and it was the lure of a wealthy lord on her arm.
Garrick never should have kissed her. The first touch of his mouth to hers had lit a spark within him that was suddenly an uncontrollable fire. He had to have more, regardless of how foolish and idiotic and wrong this all was.
Miss Sutton was in his arms, her soft, supple curves pressed against him in all the right places. And suddenly she was the one kissing him, those lush siren’s lips clinging to his as if she could not possibly have enough. It was the single most erotic moment of his life, and he had absolutely no control over his body’s instinctive reaction.
His cockstand was instant.
Mistake, cautioned that same voice in his mind again, the one which had inevitably led to him making the right decisions in every instance of turmoil. Only, in this instance, it was being dulled and drowned by the thud of his pulse and the roaring need rising to the surface.
And still, he could not seem to cease this madness.
All he could do was surrender to the moment, to the desire. He forgot who she was, why he must not be kissing her, why he had come here. Her breasts were heavy and full, crushed against his chest. Her floral scent curled around him. He lost himself in the silken luxury of her mouth. Garrick had never dreamt a lady’s lips could be so sinfully smooth and hot. He had spent years of penance eschewing vice, but here was one he could easily lose himself in: this woman.
God, she felt good in his arms, good with her curves blending into his hardness. Good in every way that mattered and all the ones that did not, too. He could not resist tasting her. His tongue slipped into the velvet heat of her mouth. She tasted impossibly sweet, like honey cakes with a hint of sin.
Sin because this was wrong.
Yet right.
And he had ever been drawn to temptation, wretched sinner that he was.
She made a sound of need, her fingers tightening on his shoulders, the dainty tips digging into his muscle and holding him close. Her lips and tongue moved in a sinuous dance, leaving him aching with want.
More.He had to have more. Garrick did not partake in spirits, but suddenly, he understood the lure. Kissing Penelope Sutton was intoxicating. Little wonder Aidan was so enamored of her…
Oh, bloody hell.