She framed his head between her hands. The light in her eyes made him imagine that she loved him. She drew him down until their lips met. The contact lasted long enough to turn his blood to honey.
She nipped his lower lip and placed glancing kisses along his jaw. This time when she stopped, he growled deep in his throat. Her teasing provoked him. He hadn’t been alone with Eleanor since that explosive evening in Sedgemoor’s library. On their journey south, they’d stayed in Northampton, then spent another night at Rothermere House, Sedgemoor’s luxurious pile in Grosvenor Square.
Leath settled her to allow better access to her mouth. Her hand traced a searing path up his chest, although the atmosphere remained sweet rather than sultry.
“Kiss me properly,” he murmured.
A frown creased her brow. “Are you up to it?”
He laughed and bumped her with his hips. He expected her to wriggle away, but she shifted closer. “You’re tormenting me.”
“A little. To pay you back for frightening me.” She paused. “To pay you back for getting hurt.”
Sweetness flared to heat and he groaned. “Eleanor…”
He didn’t hold back when he kissed her. By the time he raised his head, she strained against him. Her dress was unbuttoned and his hand curled around her breast.
“You’re dangerous,” she muttered, shoving aside his shirt and kissing his chest where his longing heart beat to the sound of her name.
He kissed the satiny white flesh above the pert pink nipple. “Stay with me tonight. Nobody need know.”
“Yes, they will,” she retorted, even as she arched nearer.
Unable to ignore the encouragement, his lips closed on the peak of her breast. She cried out and her fingers tightened on his shoulders.
“We could make love now,” he said unsteadily. “Then you could return to your room and nobody will be the wiser.”
“I hate the idea of people sniggering about… us.” She stared at him, troubled. “I’m not a very convenient mistress, am I?”
He spoke the words that he’d promised himself he wouldn’t say until this mess with Greengrass was resolved. The words that would blast all this lovely, warm intimacy to hell.
“You’d make a highly convenient wife.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Not this again.” Nell scrambled away. She put her hands on her hips and stared James down.
Unfortunately, his lordship was as dogged as she was. His chin jutted belligerently. “Eleanor, will you marry me?”
“No.” She whirled away, missing the luxuriant rustle of Lady Hillbrook’s gown. The narrow skirts of her gray dress didn’t lend her temper the same grandeur. A sign of how dangerously easy it would be to tumble into the fantasy that she belonged in James’s world. That his clever, rich, aristocratic friends would accept her. That she made a fit consort for this outstanding man.
“Is that all you have to say?”
When she turned, she saw he’d risen. He rested one hand on the back of the chair where for a few blissful moments she’d leaned into him as if he was her rock in a turbulent world.
He remained her rock in a turbulent world. But she could never claim him publicly. Not without damaging him. She stiffened her spine and prepared to crush her dearest dreams to dust. “If you marry me, you’ll never be prime minister.”
“I don’t give a rat’s arse about being prime minister. I’d rather have you.”
His language shocked her and she faltered back before remembering that she must appear strong. “You can have me—as a mistress.”
“I want more.”
“There is no more. Desire must be enough.” She turned toward a mirror to fix her hair. The face in the glass was rosy with kisses, but the eyes were frightened.
She saw him reflected behind her. In his bruised face, his smile expressed endless affection. “We have more than desire and you know it.”
Her wayward heart lurched with love. When he smiled like that, he was nigh irresistible. “Stop it,” she snapped, turning on him.