She stood her ground, placing her hands on her hips. “Your visit today was inappropriate in every respect, especially when I told you quite clearly on the train that I did not wish to see you. People will get the wrong idea and think that we have feelings for each otherâoh!”
Quinton, unable to control himself any longer, pulled Lisette into his arms and covered her mouth with his. Instantly he knew he had made a dreadful, irrevocable mistake but by then it was too late. Too late to stop. He could do nothing but lose himself in the honeyed sweetness of her mouth. Damn, but no woman had ever had this effect on him. He knew Lisette felt it, too, for she did not resist him in the least. She did not pull away. She did not slap him in outrage as she very well should. No, this incredible and beautiful woman kissed him right back, her arms reaching up around his neck, standing on her tiptoes to reach him, her mouth opening to him in willing eagerness. His heart pounding like thunder in his chest, he slipped his tongue into the heated warmth of her mouth and drew her tightly against him.
Quinton had kissed his share of women over the years. He was a well-to-do gentleman from a prominent family, and it was within his rights to do so. Yet none of the experienced beauties he had bedded had ever affected him quite the way Lisette Hamilton did at this very moment.
He wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything in his whole life.
It made no sense whatsoever. And scared the wits out of him.
He barely knew her. He had met her only the day before yesterday and here he was kissing her on a windswept beach. It was wrong. So terribly wrong for them to be acting this way when they were both promised to others. He did not think of Emmeline Tarleton. He did not think of the man who had already asked for Lisette's hand.
He knew with every fiber of his being that kissing Lisette this way was unconscionable and could only lead to dire consequences for one or both of them.
Yet he could not resist the feeling of rightness, of perfection, with her. He could not resist the feel of her body pressed intimately against his. He could not resist her soft lips and daring little tongue, which swirled within his own mouth. He could easily drown in the intoxicating fragrance of her being and not care if he ever saw the light of day again. He did not feel the chilly sea wind blowing around him, for he held in his arms all the warmth of a summer day in the heavenly form of Lisette Hamilton.
Her passionate response pleased him, and he held her tightly against his chest as she clung to him in wild abandon. They kissed as if they were not out in full view of anyone who happened to pass by. And if someone did happen to venture out on such an uninviting day and spied their scandalous embrace, they did not care. So lost in the sensations of their kiss, they did not even notice the increased darkening of the leaden sky.
Ignoring the cold wind that buffeted them, Quinton instinctively sought the heat between them, his arms wrapped firmly around her small body. He shielded her from the brunt of the wind. She was so small and slender, he could scoop her up in his arms without the slightest effort. And the thought of doing just that and carrying her to his warm bed consumed him. Making love to this woman would be sheer pleasure and nothing less.
He could not get enough of kissing her. And it scared him not to know if he ever would.
7
A Thrill of Hope
Swirling snowflakes scattered on the wind around them, covering the sand in a dusting of white.
Lisette could not have cared less about the snow. With Quinton Roxbury's strong arms wrapped around her, she had the oddest sensation that nothing could harm her. And nothing else mattered except this wild, extraordinary kiss. She was lost in the feel of his mouth on hers, the all-consuming heat. The driving need to feel him left her breathless.
This kiss made her forget that she was engaged. Made her forget Henry Brooks. Made her forget that she was standing on a beach in full public view. Made her forget that Quinton had a fiancée. His mouth on hers was her entire focus.
They finally broke free of each other's embrace and stared into each other's eyes, trying to regain their breath. Quinton held her hands in his, the wind and snow swirling about them.
It was then that Lisette remembered all that she had forgotten just a moment ago. Henry. Her engagement. Quinton's upcoming wedding.
“What are we doing?” she whispered breathlessly.
He shook his head. “I don't know.” He pressed his forehead against hers. “I don't know.”
Good heavens but she wanted him to kiss her again. Wanted him to kiss her all night long. The intensity of this newfound desire terrified her. “You need to stay away from me.”
“I know.” He brushed his lips against her cheek. “You're right.”
The warmth of his breath sent shivers of delight through her entire body. Lisette swayed and closed her eyes, unable to bear the look of longing in his eyes for she was sure it mirrored her own. Quinton held her closer, supporting her weakened state, and for that she was most grateful. She didn't trust her own legs to hold her. She leaned her head against his broad chest. He was so warm and strong and solid and smelled of bayberry. She could stay in his arms this way forever and not mind in the least. He sheltered her from the worst of the cold wind and the snow that sprinkled down on them but did nothing to cool their passion for each other.
His mouth came down over hers yet again. She did not resist in the least. No. Lisette leaned into him, eager for the feel of his mouth upon hers, longing to meet his tongue with her own. Giddy with the hot, swirling emotions that swept through her entire body, she was helpless to do anything else in the face of his desire for her. His kiss destroyed her resolve, her will to say no. His kiss gave her everything she ever wanted.
They clung to each other, embracing tightly, seeking the heat that burned between them. The passion only increased with each passing minute. They might have been there for hours, for time had lost all meaning. She forgot that she was on a cold and deserted beach. Forgot that she was promised to another. All that mattered was her uncontrollable hunger for this man. The wild desire to be with him in any way she could. Never had she felt this reckless, urgent need to be kissed, to be touched by another human being. And heaven help her, but she wanted more, needed more, from this man. From him. Only him.
Quinton.
He broke away from her and she almost cried out from the loss.
“Lisette.” He breathed her name against her ear and she thought she would faint from the pleasure of it.
She tilted her face up to look at him. His blue eyes were filled with a mixture of passion and pain, and she suddenly felt the urge to cry. Her kiss-swollen lips trembled. He caressed them with his gloved fingers, touching her so delicately. Surprising herself, she pressed a kiss onto his leather-covered hand, wishing she could take his bare fingers into her mouth.
Good God! Had she truly thought of doing something so scandalous?
Of course she had allowed Henry to kiss her over the years. They had been sweet, chaste kisses, so brief she could hardly recall them now. But never had she felt this way. Reckless. Hot. Wild. Never. Not once. Never had she been awash with desire for Henry to kiss her as she was with Quinton Roxbury this very minute. Never had she wanted Henry to hold her and never let her go.
She suppressed the sob that tore at her throat.
“Let me go.” Her words were barely above a whisper, because deep down she did not mean them. Not with any force anyway.
He did not release her, but held her tightly against him, and she was glad of it. Once again she rested her head upon his broad chest, soaking up his warmth. They stood for some time just holding each other, unwilling to move and break the spell they were under.
What had just happened between them? For it was more than merely a kiss. Kissing Quinton had changed her, awakened something within her she didn't even know existed. Lisette had never felt so uncertain of herself or was so unsure of her own emotions. Confusion about her very life welled within her. Quinton had done something to her.
Leaning down, Quinton pressed a soft kiss to her cheek before withdrawing from their embrace. His arms fell to his sides as he took a step back. “Forgive me, Miss Hamilton.”
The chill that raced through her body caused her teeth to chatter. She breathed in deeply and the icy air filled her lungs, saturating her with a chilling dose of reality. She nodded wordlessly at him for there was too much to say.
Finally Lisette and Quinton moved with reluctant steps from the shore, neither of them in a hurry to face the consequences and obligations that awaited them once they returned to the house. He reached out and took her hand in his, and she almost wept at the sweetness of the gesture. The silence weighed heavily between them.
The sun had set behind the steel gray clouds, and darkness began to obscure their pathway home. The snow flurries turned to a sleety rain, and they reached the gate to her mother's house just as the worst of the storm that had threatened all day finally let loose. Quinton pulled her by the hand and they began to run, but they were soaked by the time they arrived at the doorstep.
“My goodness! Just look at the two of you!” Fannie exclaimed in dismay as they stood dripping in the hallway. “A couple of drowned rats you are! Miss Lisette, you get yourself upstairs and out of those wet clothes this instant. And no, don't think to argue with me, miss. Upstairs with you now. And Mr. Roxbury, you come and dry yourself by the fire.”
Quinton saw Lisette freeze in place.
“Thank you, but I really must be on my way,” Quinton protested affably. “A little water won't hurt me.”
“Nonsense! Mrs. Hamilton already told me you are staying for supper. I've a delicious roast beef and some potatoes that will warm you right up. It's just about ready. You'd be a blamed fool to go back out in that nasty storm anyhow. Now give me your coat, sir, and leave those wet shoes of yours by the door.” She held out her hand for his coat.
Quinton knew he should leave, and more important, he knew that Lisette wished for him to leave. But he could not refuse without being unforgivably rude. He
had
already agreed to stay for supper. Wouldn't leaving abruptly cause more suspicion than his staying? And the roast beef smelled delicious. His rumbling stomach attested to the fact that he was more than a little hungry. And there
was
a storm outside. He would simply have a fortifying meal and be on his way after the worst of the weather subsided.
He would not see Lisette again after tonight. Besides, he felt like a cad for the way he just acted, and he could not leave her without making amends of some sort. He could not let this be the end of things. Not after that extraordinary kiss . . .
He slowly removed his coat and hat, glancing at Lisette. She shook her head ever so slightly to discourage him. He gave his coat to Fannie. “Thank you.”
“That's it,” Fannie praised him for agreeing to stay, the expression on her round face one of triumph. “Now, Miss Lisette, get yourself upstairs and change like I told you. I'll take care of your gentleman right proper, don't you worry.”
There was nothing for Lisette to do. “I shall be back down shortly,” she mumbled before fleeing up the stairs.
Meanwhile, Quinton followed Fannie into the parlor. He raised his brows at the pretty table set for two in front of the blazing fire. It was quite the romantic setting and more than a bit odd given the circumstances. However, he stood gratefully before the mantel, absorbing the blessed warmth emanating from the fire, and accepted the thick towel Fannie handed him to dry off.
“Mrs. Hamilton isn't feeling so well this evening, so it will just be you and Miss Lisette for supper.”
After seeing the table set for two, he was not surprised by this news. Nor did he imagine that Fannie just gave him a sly little wink.
“I'll bring in the food soon enough. Now you just make yourself at home, Mr. Roxbury,” she instructed as she bustled about the room. “There's some nice red wine in the decanter there on the table.”
“Thank you.” He watched the wide-girthed woman waddle from the room and wondered at the matchmaking effort that was most definitely being executed this evening. What
was
Mrs. Hamilton thinking? She was practically throwing her engaged daughter at him! It made no sense. Was the man betrothed to Lisette such a poor choice for a husband that her mother saw fit to try to sabotage their engagement? For surely he had not misinterpreted the intimate overtones of the dinner table.
Intrigued by the play of events, he remained by the fire as his clothing began to dry out and warm up. Now he must face the beautiful Lisette, whom he had clearly wronged earlier with their kiss on the beach.
But Christ above, it was an amazing kiss!
Lisette had excited him like no woman had ever had. She was passionate and sensual and willing. Oh, so willing. He had had to use all his strength and resolve to end their embrace, reminding himself that Lisette was not the type of woman a man trifled with. Tonight he would make his apologies to her and then bid her farewell, for no good could come of their relationship at this point. It was too dangerous. For both of them.
He needed to stay away, far away, from Lisette Hamilton.
He was marrying Emmeline just after New Year's. He could not be kissing a woman like Lisette. It would only ruin his carefully laid plans for the future. He needed to marry Lady Emmeline Tarleton, even if she did not make his blood race the way Lisette had that afternoon.
Quinton glanced up as he heard Lisette coming down the stairs. She paused in the doorway and seemed hesitant to enter the parlor, her green eyes wide at the intimate scene. She had changed into a simple gown of midnight blue that hugged her figure perfectly, and she'd combed her windswept hair into a neat knot atop her head. In the glow of the firelight she looked stunning. His heart pounded at the sight of her.
Sensing her unease, he moved to her side, taking her small hand in his. The feel of her warm skin against his sent a jolt of desire through him. With a great force of will, he guided her to the table.
“I am so embarrassed,” she confessed in an anguished whisper. “I don't know what is going on here.”
He squeezed her hand reassuringly and gave her an encouraging smile. “It seems your mother wishes for us to dine alone together.”
Lisette cringed and shook her head in disbelief. “I could just die of mortification.”
“Please don't die on me,” he said, attempting to lighten her mood with a bit of humor. He gave her hand another comforting squeeze. “It will be fine. We need to talk in any case. Now sit down and take a breath.” He urged her to the chair and then took his own seat.
She glanced across the table at him, almost shyly. “Thank you, Mr. Roxbury, for being so understanding about all this.”
“The funny thing is, I don't mind, Miss Hamilton.” He could not help smiling at her as he realized he spoke the complete truth. “I don't mind at all.”
Fannie bustled in carrying a tray and began serving them a hearty feast. The scent of fresh biscuits and succulent roast beef made Quinton's mouth water.
“If either of you need anything else, just let me know.” She gave them an elaborate wink.
“That will be all, Fannie.” Lisette's voice had a distinct edge to it. “Thank you.”
Fannie shuffled from the room with a giggle.
Without a word, Quinton poured them each a glass of red wine. He raised his glass to her and she did so as well. “To good friends,” he said pointedly, taking a sip.
She shot him a rueful glance before drinking her wine.
He picked up his fork. “You know, Miss Hamilton, I'm beginning to think you are not betrothed at all. That you just said so to me on the train to discourage me.”
Lisette set her glass upon the table with such force wine sloshed over the rim, staining the delicate white lace a dark red. “I am getting married!”
He gave a skeptical chuckle. “Your family doesn't seem to think so.”
“My mother . . .” Lisette began to explain and then stopped abruptly, closing her mouth. She sighed and began again. “Let me be clear with you, Mr. Roxbury. Henry Brooks is a wonderful man, a good man, and he loves me. He and I have known each other since we were children, and we have been planning to marry for years. We are quite devoted to each other. My entire family knows this and has known of our intentions to wed. For some reason I cannot fathom, my mother has suddenly taken it into her head that I do not love Henry and should not marry him, which explains but does not excuse her behavior with you and me this evening”âshe waved her hand helplessly to indicate the intimate supperâ“and all of this.”