Judging from Deverill’s raised eyebrow, her retort was unexpected. “Why would you think I haven’t taken any lovers?”
“Have you?”
“It is hardly your concern. But I have known passion.” At least in my dreams, Kate clarified to herself.
When his gaze fixed intently on her, she stared back at him with a trace of defiance. She was shading the truth, yet it wasn’t a complete falsehood. In her dreams, Deverill had always been her only lover. Neither was she completely ignorant when it came to men and physical relations. She had her aunt Bella to thank for educating her. Bella had wanted her nieces to be armed against the rakes who might try to tempt them.
When the charged moment drew out, Kate tried to will away the blush rising in her cheeks while silently justifying her prevarication. After Deverill, she’d felt vulnerable and unsure. Secretly she’d even wanted to make him regret spurning her. An unworthy ambition, she knew; she hoped she was not that petty.
But she wouldn’t apologize for the entirely rational feminine need to make him believe she was not a shriveled-up old maid, or feel much remorse if she pretended to have had a torrid affair. Showing him she was desirable, that o
ther men wanted her, would be a salve to her wounded pride….Although she wouldn’t lie to him outright.
“I have had more than one suitor who is considered a marvelous lover,” she declared. Which was completely true. She knew several rakish noblemen who were rumored to be remarkable lovers.
She could tell Deverill wasn’t particularly pleased with her reply, which somehow made her feel better.
“However,” Kate added, deciding it wiser to extricate herself from the web of deceit she was spinning for herself, “I value emotional gratification much more than physical.”
“You say that because you don’t know any better. If your physical experience had been at all pleasurable, you would rate it more highly.” Deverill leaned closer while his voice dropped to a murmur. “Lovely Princess Katharine…I could show you pleasure.”
Reaching up, he wrapped his fingers lightly around the column of her throat. This time, however, Kate was better prepared for the scalding impact. Suspecting that Deverill was testing her, she forced herself to remain still. If she had truly taken any lovers before, she would not be shy about his physical advances—and heaven help her, she wanted his physical advances.
As if reading her thoughts, he drew even nearer. She watched, spellbound, as his ebony lashes lowered to shadow his eyes. She knew she ought to pull away, but he took the decision from her. Raising both his hands, he slid his fingers along either side of her jaw and bent his head to kiss her.
Determined to pretend more experience than she really had, Kate made no protest, yet when his mouth settled on hers, claiming with a forceful tenderness, she found herself being swept up in the enchantment. The taste of him was gloriously arresting. When Deverill made her open farther for him, his tongue penetrating in an erotic invasion, an intoxicating rush of feeling assaulted her.
She ignored the warning voice of reason when he pressed her back against the sofa cushions. She couldn’t summon the desire to fight him. Instead, her body softened instinctively against his, and she clutched weakly at his shoulders. She could feel the hardness of his corded muscles beneath her fingers, the heat of his powerful torso, could smell the arousing scent of him.
Caught up in the moment, she raised her hands to his black, curling hair, which was thick and silky. In response, his kiss only deepened; with one hand behind her nape, he held her head still so he could drink more fully of her.
He kissed like a possessive lover—or what she imagined a possessive lover to be, arousing with languorous strokes of his tongue, slowly driving, deliciously plundering. A whisper of a sigh escaped Kate. Compared to Deverill, she was an utter novice at passion, and she had no defenses against him. The sinful thrill of being captured against his hard, male body sent another hot ripple of weakness surging through her. The beguiling friction of his chest against her breasts only made her want more.
The kiss turned endless. Emotions whirled and clashed within Kate, leaving her giddy. Her head swam with drugged pleasure, her body trembled.
She was only vaguely aware of his hand molding her breast beneath the jacket of her riding habit. Shivering with aroused excitement, she gave a helpless moan and strained against his palm as he caressed the swelling mound above the confines of her corset. She could feel her nipples peak to a tingling ache—a result he seemed determined to encourage.
Still holding her entranced with his mouth, Deverill opened the front buttons of her jacket, then moved his lips lower, following the path his hand had taken.
When he tongued her breast through her shirtfront and chemise, the sweet shock of it stopped her breath. Kate inhaled sharply as a tremor shook her. And when he suckled her nipple through the fabric, she whimpered and arched against his mouth.
It was the most incredible sensation. Wicked, marvelous, irresistible. Fire streaked through her body, flooding her veins with shuddering heat. Deverill was taking full advantage of her weakness for him, leaving her dazed and swooning.
It was only when his hand moved lower, down over her skirts, between her thighs, that Kate came to her senses and realized she was sprawled inelegantly on the sofa beneath him while he pleasured her breasts.
“Deverill…” she rasped. “You must…stop.”
“Why?”
“Someone could enter…and see us.”
“So?”
“So, this is madness.”
“Yes, sweet madness….”
Sliding her arms between them, she pressed her hands hard against his chest. “I won’t be your plaything!”