“Mary,” he whispered, “I vow you are not used to the effects of the wine. You should stop now, before you do something you will regret in the morning.”
“Haven’t you thought about it? You must have.” She lifted her lids and peered up at him earnestly. “Rogan, I have tried to forget the feeling of your body pressed against mine. Fought to wipe away the memory of your mouth, so hot and wet, moving over my lips. But God save me, I can’t do it.”
“Mary, please, do not say another word.” He caught her wrist and made to pull her hand from the back of his neck.
“No, please don’t. You don’t understand. I took the wine this night for courage. So I would not retreat.” She placed her hand softly upon his cheek for a moment, then slipped her fingers to his temple and through his hair.
Rogan closed his eyes and drew a deep breath through his nose.
It had been so long since he’d been touched so tenderly. And though he wanted nothing more than for her to continue, he knew he could not allow it.
He caught her hand and removed it from his hair. “Mary, stop-”
Instead she laid her finger vertically across his lips. “Shh. Listen to me. What I felt when you kissed me was like…nothing I have ever known.”
Rogan grabbed her wrist and pulled her finger from his mouth. “You are an innocent.”
“Not so innocent as you might believe.”
“Somehow, my dear, I doubt that.”
“Then you would be wrong, sir.” She lowered her eyes to the pavers for an instant, before meeting his gaze again with an impish grin on her lips. “Believe me, I know how a kiss feels. Yours was not my first.”
“Wasn’t it?”
She shook her head and colored most becomingly. “But I do not lie when I admit that when you touched your mouth to mine, every part of me felt so…so alive-like never before.”
Rogan let his gaze flutter over her flushed cheeks and delve deep into her eyes. “What do you want of me, Mary?”
“I want you to kiss me again-now. I have to know.”
“What?”
“If it’s you, Rogan, who awakened me-or if it was my belief that I was in Quinn’s arms.”
He caught her waist with both hands and held her at arm’s length. “What game is this, Miss Royle?”
Her eyes suddenly took on a sheen in the moonlight. “’Tis no game, Rogan. I want to know. I
Rogan’s breath came faster.
Why, despite his attempts to separate this woman from Quinn, by the end of summer she could become Viscountess Wetherly-his brother’s wife.
“Please, Rogan,” she said breathily. “One kiss.”
His grip tightened around her and he pulled her to him, closer and closer still, until they stood only a breath apart.
And in the cool light of the moon, Rogan swept her into his arms and leaned toward her.
He rested his hand in the small of her back, making her arch against him as he moved his lips along the tender skin of her throat.
Mary moaned and softened against him.
His mouth moved upward along her neck, pausing for just a moment to murmur in her ear. “Is it the same?”
“I do not know yet.” Mary settled her hand on his chest, the tips of her fingers digging into his muscles. “Kiss me, Rogan.
Gently, he brushed his fingers along her jaw, then firmly took her chin and turned her face upward to his, before catching her mouth with his own.
Excitement surged through his body, and he knew, for certain, what she had meant about being awakened.
She angled her lips against his, opening her mouth to deepen the kiss, giving herself to him, and desire like he’d never felt exploded through his veins.
He could smell the scent of roses on her skin, taste the wine on her tongue, feel the warmth of her breath mingling with his own.
He was drowning in her and never wanted to surface.
The courtyard dissolved into nothingness around them. Thought evaporated.
All he knew was Mary, and his need for her.
Rogan pulled her hard to him, felt her full breasts crush against him. She wrapped her hands tightly around his neck and clung to him.
He pulled back for the briefest moment and gazed into her eyes. “Is it the same, Mary?”
She peered sleepily into his eyes, and her lips curved upward.
He drove his tongue deep into her mouth, wanting, needing urgently to possess her. As he kissed her so deeply, one hand slid over her hip and ground her against the hardness between his legs.
She broke their kiss then and peered up at him queerly.
“Mary, I don’t know what made me-”
“What did you say?” Her eyes seemed to roll back, and her lids closed.
“Mary? Oh, God.” He shook her, and he saw she tried to open her eyes. “Can you hear me? Are you well?”
But then her eyes closed again and she crumpled against him. Rogan stared down at the woman, limp in his arms.
“Mary!”
Chapter 11
Her eyes were so heavy, her limbs so weight ed, that Mary was in no hurry to rouse herself from her slumber…and this wicked, but oh-so-delicious dream.
She was rocking ever so gently, her back resting upon his chest, with his hands securely wrapped around her waist, holding her against him.
Even through the layers of petticoat and skirts, she could feel his hardness branding her. She wriggled against him, reveling in the proof of his desire for her.
Around them was a roaring sound, grating annoyingly in her head. Making her awaken.
She slowly opened her eyes and turned to face Rogan. It was completely dark inside the carriage that carried them through the night.
She blinked. This dream was different.
As she moved, he slipped his hands under her arms and drew her closer, holding her securely against him on the seat.
She couldn’t resist smiling. Since the night she and Rogan had first met, she’d had many similar dreams, wanton and willful, but never in a carriage.
Never one so visceral as this.
In the small finger of moonlight breaking through the cloaked window, she could just discern Rogan’s face. She smiled and pressed up on the seat high enough that she could nuzzle the exposed skin between the top of his starched neckcloth and the lobe of his ear.
