deeper over hers, sucking and teasing, his taste drugging and sweet. And then something quieted his frenzy, and he became gentle. His hand trembled as he touched her face, his fingers smoothing over her cheek, his palm cradling her jaw. The hungry pressure of his mouth lifted from hers, and he kissed her eyelids and nose and forehead.
In his drive to press close, he had urged her back against the conservatory wall. She gasped as her bare upper shoulders were flattened on a pane of glass, causing gooseflesh to rise. Cold glass… but his body was so warm, his scalding-soft mouth traveling down to her throat, her chest, the hint of cleavage.
Merripen slipped two fingers inside her bodice, stroking the cool cushion of her breast. It wasn't enough. He tugged impatiently at the edge of the bodice and the shallow cup of the corset beneath. Win closed her eyes, offering not so much as a word of protest, still except for the heaves of her breathing.
Merripen gave a soft grunt of satisfaction as her breast popped free. He lifted her higher against the glass, nearly lifting her off her feet, and he closed his mouth over the tip of her breast.
Win bit her lip to keep from crying out. Each swirling lick of his tongue sent darts of heat down to her toes. She slid her hands into his hair, one gloved, one ungloved, her body arching against the tender stimulation of his mouth.
When her nipple was taut and throbbing, he moved back up to her neck, dragging his mouth along the delicate skin. 'Win.' His voice was ragged. 'I want to-' But he bit back the words and kissed her again, deep and feverish, while he took the hard peak of her breast in his fingers. He squeezed and rolled it softly, until the wickedly gentle harassment caused her to writhe and sob in pleasure.
Then it all ended with cruel suddenness. He froze inexplicably and jerked her away from the window, pulling the front of her body into his. As if he was trying to hide her from something. A quiet curse escaped him.
'What…' Win found it difficult to speak. She was as dazed as if she were emerging from a deep sleep, her thoughts tumbling over on themselves. 'What is it?'
'I saw movement on the terrace. Someone may have seen us.'
That startled Win back into a semblance of normalcy. She turned from him, clumsily pulling her bodice back into place. 'My glove,' she whispered, seeing it lying by the bench like a tiny abandoned flag of truce.
Merripen went to retrieve it for her.
'I… I'm going to the ladies' dressing room,' she said shakily. 'I'll put myself to rights, and return to the drawing room as soon as I'm able.'
She wasn't altogether certain what had just happened, what it had meant. Merripen had admitted he loved her. He had finally said it. But she had always imagined it as a joyful confession, not an angry and bitter one. Everything seemed so terribly wrong.
If only she could go back to the hotel, now, and be alone in her room. She needed privacy in which to think. What was it he had said?…
She wanted to confront him, but this was not the time or place. This was a matter that must be handled with great care. Merripen was more complicated than most people realized. Although he gave the impression of being less sensitive than most men, the truth was, he harbored such powerful feelings that even he wasn't able to manage them well.
'We must talk later, Kev,' she said.
He gave a short nod, his shoulders and neck set as if he were carrying an unbearable burden.
Win went as discreetly as possible to the ladies' dressing room upstairs, where maids were busy repairing torn flounces, helping to blot the shine from perspiring faces, and anchoring coiffures with extra hairpins. Women had gathered in small groups, giggling and gossiping about things they'd seen and overheard. Win sat before a looking glass and inspected her reflection. Her cheeks were flushed, a marked contrast to her usual composed paleness, and her lips were red and swollen. Her color deepened as she wondered if everyone could see what she had been doing.
A maid came to blot Win's face and dust it with rice powder, and she murmured her thanks. She took several calming breaths-as deep as the dratted corset would allow-and tried inconspicuously to make certain her bodice was fully covering her breasts.
By the time Win felt ready to go downstairs once more, approximately thirty minutes had passed. She smiled as Poppy entered the ladies' dressing room and came to her.
'Hello, dear,' Win said, standing from the chair. 'Here, take my chair. Do you need hairpins? Powder?'
'No, thank you.' Poppy wore a tense, anxious expression, looking nearly as flushed as Win had been earlier.
'Are you enjoying yourself?' Win asked with a touch of concern.
'Not really,' Poppy said, drawing her to the corner to keep from being overheard. 'I was looking forward to meeting someone other than the usual crowd of stuffy old peers, or worse, the stuffy young ones. But the only new men I met were climbers and businessmen. Either they want to talk about money-which is vulgar and I don't know anything about it-or they have careers they claim they can't discuss, which means they're probably involved in something illegal.'
'And Beatrix? How is she faring?'
'She's quite popular, actually. She goes around saying outrageous things, and people laugh and think she's being witty when they don't realize she's perfectly serious.'
Win smiled. 'Shall we go downstairs and find her?'
Not yet.' Poppy reached out to take her hand, and gripped it tightly. 'Win, dear… I've come to find you because… there's a sort of upheaval going on downstairs. And… it involves you.'
'An upheaval?' Win shook her head, feeling cold in the marrow of her bones. Her stomach gave a sick plunge. 'I don't understand.'
'A rumor is quickly spreading that you were seen in the conservatory in a compromising position. A very compromising one.'
Win felt her face turn white. 'It's only been thirty minutes,' she whispered.
'This is London society,' Poppy said grimly. 'Gossip travels at full throttle.''
A pair of young women entered the dressing room, saw Win, and immediately whispered to each other.
Win's stricken gaze met Poppy's. 'There's going to be a scandal, isn't there?' she asked faintly.
'Not if it's managed properly and quickly.' Poppy squeezed her hand. 'I'm to take you to the library, dear. Amelia and Mr. Rohan are there-we're going to meet them and put our heads together, and decide on a course of action.'
Win almost wished she could go back to being an invalid with frequent fainting spells. Because at the moment, a good long swoon sounded quite appealing. 'Oh, what have I done?' she whispered.
That elicited a faint smile from Poppy. 'That seems to be the question on everyone's mind.'
Chapter Fourteen
The Hunts' library was a handsome room lined with mahogany bookcases with fronts of glazed glass. Cam Rohan and Simon Hunt were standing beside a large inlaid sideboard laden with glittering spirit decanters. Holding a glass half-filled with amber liquid, Hunt gave Win an inscrutable glance as she entered the library. Amelia, Mrs. Hunt, and Dr. Harrow were also there. Win had the curious feeling that it couldn't really be happening. She had never been involved in a scandal before, and it wasn't nearly as exciting or interesting as she had imagined while lying in her sickbed. It was frightening.
Because in spite of her earlier words to Merripen about wanting to be compromised, she hadn't meant any of it. No sane woman would wish for such a thing. Causing a scandal meant ruining not only Win's prospects, but those of her younger sisters. It would cast a shadow over the entire family. Her carelessness was going to harm all the people she loved.
'Win.' Amelia came to her at once, embracing her firmly. 'It's all right, dear. We'll manage this.'
Had Win not been so distressed, she would have smiled. Her older sister was famous for her confidence in her
