“About marrying me? We barely know each other.”
His smile broadened. The more she objected, the more the correctness of his decision was confirmed in his mind. “I have it on very good authority that knowing someone well and planning too much is not a requirement for a successful marriage.”
She was staring up at him with astonishment. No, it was more than astonishment. Disbelief and open skepticism were present, too. “And you dared to disparage my method of engaging in a single kiss to aid in the final choice? For shame, my lord.”
“On the contrary. I applaud your rather, hmm, unique ideas of choosing a husband. ’Tis progressive and most effective.” He eyed her from head to toe with deliberate slowness. “And thoroughly enjoyable.”
She rolled her eyes and attempted to step around him. He blocked the way effortlessly. For several seconds they simply stared at each other. The more he gazed into her lovely face, the more aroused he became. Yes, this was the right decision. He would no have difficulties providing the heir his father so keenly craved. No difficulty at all.
“Your proposal is so completely unexpected,” she finally muttered, still unconvinced and distrustful. “I need time to consider my answer.”
“Why?”
“Why?” she sputtered, crossing her arms under her breasts. “Unlike you, my lord, I take the idea of marriage most seriously.”
“But the kiss…” He let his voice trail off suggestively.
Cheeks blushing, she shifted from one foot to the other. “The kiss is but one part of my decision. There are other, equally important considerations.”
“I have taken those into account. My wealth, my lineage, my age, all make me an excellent candidate. My wife will not want for anything. She will eventually take her place among the highest ranks of society when I inherit the dukedom. Most women would be honored at the proposal.”
Her mouth quirked. “I am not most women,” she declared ruefully. “And while I certainly agree that you are considered by many to be the prize of the matrimonial Season, my requirements in a husband extend beyond his wealth and position. Temperament and compatibility are also key elements to be considered, not to mention character.”
“I will gladly compare my character to that of Lord Rosen,” he replied with confidence.
“That is hardly a testimonial. Napoleon would rank higher in character when compared to Lord Rosen,” she said. “Besides, I rejected him.”
Carter scratched his head, mystified by her reaction. This was not precisely how he envisioned his proposal being received. Though honestly, he had not spent much time planning it. Maybe that was the reason it was going so poorly?
“My dear, we both know very well that you have been actively seeking a husband. I, in turn, require a wife and have decided you would make me an excellent one. Even more beneficial, the spark of passion you require is very evident between us.”
The sound of her laughter carried no humor. “Is it really that simple, my lord?”
“It can be.” Carter creased his brow. Perhaps he had miscalculated with his impromptu proposal. Perhaps she wanted, needed more. “Unless you require a more chivalrous, romantic gesture?”
Her face alighted with interest. “If I did, would you provide it?”
“Reluctantly.”
He was surprised to see the flash of disappointment on her lovely face. Carter frowned. Maybe this was not the brilliant idea he thought, proposing so hastily. Perhaps Miss Ellingham was more of a romantic than she knew.
For a moment her expression turned wistful. Then she shook her head, blinked her eyes, and lifted her chin. “You are right, my lord. I deplore pretense, especially between a man and a woman. I would not appreciate any false show of regard or affection from you unless it was sincerely and honestly given.”
Damn! Carter surveyed her silently. While not enamored with the idea, he certainly felt enough genuine passion and regard for her that he could have enacted a more memorable marriage proposal. He simply had not realized it would be necessary.
He glanced at the nearest rose bush, his eyes resting on a single, perfectly formed bloom. It would take little effort to pluck the rose, brush it across his lips, gallantly present it to her and ask again if she would be his bride. Yet instinctively he knew that could be a fatal move. Surely she would regard the gesture as pure artifice.
For a long time she did not move, did not speak. Her lovely blue eyes remained clouded with confusion and mistrust. Carter began to pace about in the small space, the restless movement helping to contain his frustration. He was racking his brain, trying to formulate his next argument, when she let out a long sigh.
The sound of it hurt him somewhere deep inside and a swell of disappointment filled his throat. The emotions caught him completely by surprise.
She considered him in silence, her breasts rising and falling rapidly. Then, at long last, her eyes softened and she slowly nodded. “I grant you my permission to speak with Lord Dardington. If he agrees, we shall marry.”
Carter’s heart leapt. Reacting purely on emotion, he stood up, grabbed her forcefully around the waist, and brought his mouth down upon hers.
It happened so quickly, Dorothea had no time to resist. Stunned, she languished in his strong, powerful arms, her body pressed intimately against his heated strength. There were times when she had not liked the press of a man’s lips against hers, had not liked feeling so dominated by a large, powerful male. But this was different. This was magical.
He angled his head to deepen the kiss, then flicked his tongue inside, coaxing her, daring her to respond. Dorothea’s hands tightened into fists on the front of his evening coat as she leaned into him, her emotions rioting.
She needed, wanted, craved. Dorothea rose up on her toes, returning the kiss, her tongue darting and teasing and tasting. Desire, bold and unexpected, roared through her veins. Opening her hands, she released his coat and twined her arms around his strong neck. He made a low noise deep in his throat and the sound seemed to vibrate through her.
It was a soul-searing kiss, a promise of passion and delight that left her body feeling weak, her mind numb. His hands felt strong and warm as they wandered over her back, then lower. Cupping her bottom, he pulled her closer to his hardness.
It was madness. It was passion. It was irresistible. Her body seemed to melt into his, tightening with longing at each kiss, each caress. He kissed her throat, pressing his lips against a sensitive spot right below her ear, and Dorothea forgot everything but the feelings exploding inside her.
“You are so sweet,” he whispered. “So incredibly delightful.”
Dorothea couldn’t catch her breath. She arched forward, kissing him back in growing abandonment. His hand moved from her backside up to her shoulder, then down across her chest. She felt her dress loosen, enough to allow his hand access. His fingers slid inside the garment, moving lightly across the curves of her breasts, caressing the bare flesh.
“Atwood…” she breathed shakily.
“Carter. My name is Carter. Say it.”
“Carter,” she whispered, hardly believing how wildly excited she could become by merely saying his name.
He inhaled sharply. With his fingertips he circled and teased her nipples until they hardened. Dorothea moaned. The shocking pleasure of his touch sent a bolt of passion spiraling through her. Moaning again, she arched herself forward until her breasts were even deeper into his large hands, her body quivering with want and longing.
“Exquisite,” he whispered, lowering his head.
He placed a trail of kisses down her neck and across her bare shoulder, then shockingly put his mouth on her breast. Dorothea cried out. He pulled the nipple fully into his mouth and pleasure shook her with such force she thought she might faint. Her pulse quickened and she wondered whose heart was thundering louder, hers or his.
Awash in a sea of pleasure, Dorothea felt the desire race through every part of her body. All of her awareness and concentration was centered on him and the fire he was creating deep inside her. His kisses, his touch, his
