How I Married a Marquess (7 page)

Sebastian gave a curt nod of permission. “Then keep your hands to yourself and
don't
make her any promises you aren't prepared to keep.”

For a moment the two men held each other's gaze, man to man, brother to brother, then Thomas assured him solemnly, “You have my word.”

“When she refuses to see you, come on back here,” Robert interjected with a jaunty grin. “We'll gladly welcome your company…and your money.”

In response Thomas stepped up to the line, quickly raised the pistol, and hit the target dead center. Everyone stared in stunned silence.

Robert's grin faded. “No need to hurry back.”

Thomas returned the pistol to the table and collected his winnings, then sauntered toward the house. He was beginning to like the Carlisle men. When they weren't terrifying the daylights out of him.

A flash of maroon near the stables caught his attention, just in time for him to see the swooshing full skirt of a riding habit duck inside the stone building.

A slow grin curled at his lips.
Josephine
.
So she
was
feeling better this morning, well enough to go for a ride. And if he wasn't mistaken, he'd just caught her spying on him.

The day was proving very interesting.

He changed direction and headed toward the stables.

Josie leaned back against the tack room door and tightly closed her eyes.
Blast it!
Thomas Matteson was the last person she wanted to see today. The
very
last person.

She'd been certain she'd gotten rid of him last night at the dance, along with those blue eyes that noticed far too much. Oh, he'd been just as alluring and intriguing up close as she'd imagined when she first caught him staring at her, and for a few moments, she'd even allowed herself the fantasy that he might find her just as appealing, that she was capable of attracting the attentions of a man like him. Good Lord, he'd
waltzed
with her! And what an amazing waltz it had been, too.

But then, all those things he'd learned about her—if she'd continued to talk with him, it would only have been a matter of time until he learned the truth.

No. However intriguing she found him, Thomas Matteson epitomized trouble for her, and the best way to stay out of trouble was to avoid it. So that was exactly what she'd planned to do. Simply keep away from him. After all, Blackwood Hall was a grand house on a large estate, and she should have easily been able to attend the party yet still keep distance between them without offending Lord and Lady Royston.

But now, for him to appear at her home, and looking so dashing in his riding clothes, too…surely fate couldn't be that spiteful.

Maybe he hadn't seen her or didn't
want
to see her after the way she'd fled from him last night. Maybe he was just there because of her brothers and that silly shooting match. Maybe—

“Hello, Josephine.”

Her shoulders sagged. Maybe fate was simply out to get her.

She opened her eyes at the sound of the velvety voice. The same one that had found its way unbidden into her sleep last night and given her such dreams—
oh my
. Her cheeks heated. “Lord Chesney.”

“Thomas,” he corrected smoothly.

“
Lord Chesney
,” she emphasized with a tight smile, to push down the yearning inside her to answer the siren call of those eyes. How wonderful it would be to be able to call him by his given name…and with that, she knew, send herself straight into a pit of troubles. No, best to keep her distance, no matter how disappointing that was. “My brothers are in the garden.”

With a glance over his shoulder to make certain they were alone in the stables and the grooms were occupied elsewhere, he placed his hand against the doorway at her shoulder and leaned toward her, trapping her between the door and his body. “I just came from the shooting match, actually.”

He stood so close now that she could smell the masculine scent of him, that wonderful combination of leather and soap, and despite herself she deeply breathed him in. “Good,” she sighed.

His brows rose. “Good?”

Oh God
!
Had she said that aloud? Seizing on a false bravado she certainly didn't feel, she lifted her chin. “Because then you'll be able to find your way back.”

Instead of leaving as she'd hoped, the frustrating man only grinned at her. That same slow, sensuous smile she remembered so vividly from last night curled at his very kissable lips. And just as it had last night, warmth spread inside her, right down to her toes.

She shivered. Oh, this man was dangerous!

“I think you should join them,” she prodded as strongly as she could without being rude and demanding he leave.

“I don't like guns,” he murmured, sending her heart racing when his gaze dropped to her mouth. “Besides, I came to see you.”

“Me?” Instead of the squeak she expected, her voice emerged as a throaty, breathless rasp that made his smile deepen. Which made her heart pound faster. Oh no, this was
not
good!

“You left so suddenly last night.” He reached to touch one of the loose tendrils of her hair that her maid had left hanging delicately from her chignon to frame her face and neck. “I wanted to know if you were all right.”

With each twist of her curl around his finger, she wished he would stop touching her like that, while shamelessly wishing at the same time that he would unpin the knot and shove his hand into her locks, sift them through his fingers, tilt her head back to kiss her—heavens, she was in trouble!

She cleared her throat. “How very kind of you to be concerned, Lord Chesney.”

“Thomas,” he insisted.

She ignored that, although she certainly could never ignore
him
. He was too tall, too muscular and broad-shouldered, and far too masculine to be disregarded. And the expert way he flirted, making her feel as if she was the most beautiful woman in the room—she swallowed. Hard. “I'm feeling much better today, thank you.” Although she felt feverish all of a sudden. And oddly achy.

“I apologize if I overstepped last night,” he murmured.

He hadn't simply overstepped. He had effectively stripped her naked right in the middle of a crowded ballroom by telling her things about herself no stranger could ever have known, and she'd felt completely exposed beneath those sapphire eyes, vulnerable, and wholly at risk.

“No apology necessary.” When he twined the curl around his fingers, heat shivered through her until she couldn't bear it any longer and forced out, “Please stop touching my hair.”

“All right.” He released the curl…only to trail his fingertips along the side of her neck.

Her breath caught in her throat. Devil take him! He was doing this just to bother her. And frustratingly, it was working. He
was
bothering her all right, in all kinds of ways that left her tingling down to her toes and praying he couldn't feel her racing pulse or see the heat rising in her cheeks.

“As I said, I wasn't feeling well, that was all.” Then she repeated in a pathetic whisper that held no resolve whatsoever, “Please stop touching me. It—it isn't at all proper.”

The only response she gained was an amused twitch of his lips…and an ever-widening pattern of caresses against her neck and throat. “I see your maid is feeling better this morning as well.”

“Yes, Mary's bett—” She halted as his words registered, and panic rose in her belly. If he knew something as personal about her as that, what would stop him from deciphering all her secrets? She demanded, “How do you know that?”

“Last night your coiffure was uneven, but this morning not a curl's out of place.” To punctuate his point, he stroked the back of his knuckles across her cheek, drawing a heated flush in the wake of his touch that she was unable to tamp down. “Beautiful, in fact.”

Her heart thumped so hard she suspected he could hear it even from a foot away. She knew she should bat his hand away, shove him back, and leave. For goodness' sake, someone might stumble across them! She'd never be able to explain why she'd let him put his hand on her. She wasn't certain herself, except that it felt so very good.

But she found no will to do any of that. Instead she let him remain dangerously close, let him trail his fingers down to her jawline, then slowly forward to her lips. She trembled.

When he brushed his thumb over her bottom lip, she sighed and shamelessly parted her lips beneath his caress. His dark eyes stared down into hers so boldly, so intensely that his gaze heated straight through her, swirling low in her belly and landing between her legs with a throbbing ache.

Oh, sweet heavens! She had to get away from him.
Now
.

So she jutted up her chin, smacked away his hand, and attacked. “So last night I was uneven?”

His eyes narrowed at her unexpected reaction.
Good
.
Let him be angry. Let him focus on anything but the truth about her.

“Lord Chesney,” she scolded, summoning all the primness of a governess. “I refuse to stand here and let you insult me. Or ruin my reputation with your rakish ad—”

In one swift motion, he grabbed her arm and pulled her with him as his shoulder shoved open the tack room door behind her. Propelling them inside, he lowered his mouth hungrily against hers, capturing her in a hot kiss before she could regain her wits and stop him. And when he kicked the door closed behind them, sealing them together inside the small room, his mouth molded against hers, and she didn't want him to stop.

Her soft gasp of surprise turned into a moan of submission against his lips as he leaned back against the door and drew her toward him, tugging her off-balance until she had no choice but to wrap her arms around his shoulders to keep from falling.

“You know damned well that wasn't an insult,” he growled as he tore his mouth away from hers to sweep back along her jaw. Each caress of his lips sent a hot shudder of aching arousal swirling through her. “Just as you know I'm not here to find out if you're feeling better.”

Unable to find the willpower to push him away, she tilted back her head to give his seeking mouth access to her bare neck and to allow him to dance hot kisses across the same place where his fingertips had tormented her just moments ago. “Then—” She breathed raggedly. “Why are you here?”

“For this.” His teeth nipped at her throat. “And this.” The tip of his tongue circled the curve of her ear. “And especially this.”

With his thumb he pulled down her chin and parted her lips so that this time when his mouth captured hers, his tongue shoved inside to plunder her kiss completely.

With a whimper of half pleasure, half need, she
dug her fingertips deeper into the hard muscles of his shoulders and surrendered helplessly to the strength and power of him, to the heat he pulsed tantalizingly down her spine. Her body trembled and her mind blanked until all she knew was the insistent pressure of his mouth, the teasing strokes of his tongue along hers. She'd never been kissed like this before.
Good Lord
, she'd never known such a kiss was even possible!

And oh, what a delicious kiss it was, too, one that left her quivering and craving the tangy taste of him.

Forcing back a soft moan, she tentatively touched the tip of her tongue against his. He inhaled sharply, and she thrilled at his reaction. Lost in the heady sensations that his kisses poured through her, she rose up on tiptoe to boldly return the kiss, run her fingertips through the silky softness of his thick black hair, and lick brazenly into his mouth.

“Josephine,” he groaned. He captured her tongue between his lips, sucking hard and drawing it deep into his mouth until he stole her breath away, until fingers of liquid flame rose up from her toes and tickled at that private place between her legs. And then she did moan, long and loud and shamelessly.

She tore her mouth away from his, panting and fighting for breath. She buried her face in his chest and halted the wild ride he was giving her before she completely lost control to him.

As she clung to him, her weakened knees shaking so hard beneath her she had to lean against him to keep from falling away, she wrapped her arm around his neck and rested her forehead against his hard shoulder. Her body pulsed hot. Trembling. Aching. And traitorously wanting more.

“Good God,” he breathed, incredulous, his mouth buried against her hair.

Good God
indeed. How was it possible that he could make her so uncontrolled and reckless with only a kiss? “But…but I don't even like you,” she protested in a confused whisper.

“I know,” his husky voice rasped out. “Damn curious to me, too.”

His hands ran down her back in slow, gentle caresses as if he couldn't stop touching her. Although, truth be told, she didn't want him to stop. Which made him more dangerous than she'd ever imagined. Because not only would he eventually prove no different from all the other men before him,
this
one held the power to learn more about her than she could ever reveal.

“But you have such an effect on me, Josephine, you don't even realize…and I have no idea why.” His large hands cupped her bottom and gently pulled her hips tight to his, to mold her wantonly against him. And God help her, she let him do just that. “You're a puzzle to me, holding all kinds of secrets. And I love a good puzzle.”

Secrets
.
Her heart raced impossibly faster. “I'm not—” She inhaled sharply as he squeezed her bottom in his hands. “I'm not a puzzle.”

“A mystery, then.” His warm lips brushed against her temple. “One begging to be solved.”

Shamelessly delighting in the scandalous way he held her, she protested weakly, “I'm not begging for anything.”

He gave a wicked laugh and tipped up her face. “Not yet.” His stare turned predatory as he lowered his gaze to her mouth. “But you will.”