A Rose at Midnight by Stuart Anne

Author:Stuart, Anne [Stuart, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance, General, Historical, Fiction
ISBN: 9780380767403
Publisher: Avon Books
Published: 1993-02-15T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Ghislaine looked like a frightened fawn, staring at him out of huge, dark eyes. She seldom showed fear, but this moment was different. Her defenses had momentarily fled, and Nicholas told himself he was glad. The small trace of compunction he felt was easily ignored.

“I’m only going to kiss you, ma belle,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, the voice he used for calming restive horses and nervous women. He was very good at using that voice; few women could resist its seductive purr.

Ghislaine was made of sterner stuff, of course. He expected no less of her. She continued to back away from him, as if he were the fiend incarnate, something he’d expect of a weaker soul. She wasn’t a woman who was easily cowed—anyone who used poison so effectively was hardly a shrinking violet. But there was something about him that shook her. That knowledge pleased him immensely.

“You promised,” she said again, still backing away.

“I have no honor, I warned you of that,” he said, advancing steadily. “Besides, it’s a beautiful afternoon, there’s a soft breeze and a lovely woman nearby. It’s too much for even the saintliest soul to resist.”

“And you’re hardly the—” She tripped as she moved backward, and he caught her as she fell, pulling her up against him with only the lightest of clasps. She struggled, but he knew a token struggle when he felt one. She was capable of much more force.

“Just a kiss, love,” he said, putting his fingers under her chin and tilting her head up to meet his mouth. She held very still as his lips tasted hers, but he could feel the faint tremor that ran through her small, strong body, and he wondered idly what caused it. Hatred? Or desire?

He lifted his head to look down at her. Her eyes were closed, and her face looked white, strained. “Open your mouth,” he murmured. “The sooner you give in, the sooner it will be over. It’s nothing more than a simple kiss.”

It required only the slightest pressure of his fingers to make her open her mouth, and he kissed her slowly, leisurely, with all the expertise he had at his command. She stood in his arms, if not acquiescent, at least riot fighting him. Her body was stiff at first, and then slowly grew more pliant, her hips tilting up against his with the light encouragement of his hand at the small of her back, her perfect breasts through the thin layers of clothing pressing against his chest. He could hear the lazy buzz of bees in the background, the distant song of birds, and the wind rustled through the leaves overhead as he kissed her, until she was shaking, until he was shaking, until he wanted to push her down in the sweet-smelling grass and tear away her clothes and his, until he wanted to find comfort in the sweet danger of her body.

He was never quite certain what stopped him.

Surely not a lack of desire—he was as randy as a young boy, ready to burst if she even touched him.

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