Lord Libertine. Gail Ranstrom

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СКАЧАТЬ me about her.”

      Henley grinned, no doubt pleased he had snared Andrew’s interest. “She is called Lady Lace, always wears black and has, thus far, evaded revealing her true identity. They speculate that she is from the north. Yorkshire, perhaps, or Scotland or Ireland by the faint trace of a Gaelic accent. She has not been long on the scene—a week, perhaps—and some say she is the widow of a country peer. Others swear she is a courtesan looking for her next protector. All we know for certain is that each night she appears, she favors a man with a kiss. And what a kiss! No sisterly peck on the cheek, but one deep and full of promise. Why has she never chosen me, I ask.”

      Andrew raised an eyebrow. “A device designed to make people talk and men anticipate her arrival. She is nothing if not a very canny businesswoman. Mark me, she will make a choice soon, and the poor devil will pay through the nose for it.”

      “You are without a mistress at the moment, are you not, Hunter? What say you give it a go?”

      “She’s not my usual fare. Not enough meat on her bones.”

      “You might want to try something new, eh? What a coup to make away with the most sought-after woman of the season. Quite a difference between her and the schoolgirls invading town to make their bows.”

      Did he care about a coup? No. But the thought of revealing what lay beneath the black weeds and lace held a certain appeal. He was not ordinarily competitive, but the idea of claiming a woman who did not behave like a schoolgirl and who would not act coy for a marriage proposal was alluring. Pray she was not a courtesan looking for a protector. He had just paid a generous congé to the last. “Go on to Whitcombe without me, Henley. I’ll catch up to you later.”

      Isabella O’Rourke fought back her gag of revulsion as the black-haired man kissed her. He had a definite finesse, but the fact remained that she had permitted this intimacy with a stranger. And she knew now all she needed to know.

      This was not the man who had killed Cora.

      She drew away with a show of reluctance and placed one palm against his chest to keep him at a distance. “La! You quite take my breath away, Mr. McPherson. I shall have to watch myself around you.”

      He laughed and gave her a crisp bow. “Do not watch yourself, madam. I shall do that for you.”

      She smiled and drew her closed fan down the side of his right cheek. “I shall think upon it, sir. Now off with you.” She made a shooing motion toward the ballroom and waited until he disappeared.

      Alone, she exhaled and waited while a bottomless shudder passed through her. She turned to the console table in the alcove and found an abandoned glass of rich amber liquid. Whiskey? Brandy? It didn’t matter. With just the slightest hesitation, she lifted it and took a deep drink, holding the liquor in her mouth until it burned. God grant it would burn away the last traces of her humanity so that she could finish what she’d begun.

      She swallowed, closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the wall, waiting for the warmth to spread through her.

      “That little shudder of revulsion, madam? Was it for yourself or your partner?”

      Myself! She straightened and turned to face the intruder in the alcove. He was watching her, one shoulder propped against the wall and a cynical smile curving his deeply sensual mouth. His eyes, dark and intense, bore into her, and she suspected he saw more than he should. Oh, that would never do!

      “You find a kiss revolting, sir?” Her question was not an answer, but she hoped he would not pursue one.

      “I do not, but your reaction proves different.” He bowed, a mere mocking of manners. “Andrew Hunter at your service, madam.”

      She gave him an equally mocking curtsy but did not volunteer her name. What would he say if he knew she’d only had her first kiss a week ago? “My reaction aside, Mr. Hunter, I do like kissing. That is why I do so much of it.” Oh, how smooth her lie was. How convincing.

      He grinned as if deriving some satisfaction from her reply. “So, Lady Lace, is that your game? Gathering kisses?”

      She was not surprised that he knew her alias. She was well on her way to becoming notorious. She considered lying to him but realized it would be futile. If she was any judge, this man had told enough lies in his life that he would surely recognize hers. “Perhaps I am too countrified, sir, but I am always amazed when I realize the degree to which complete strangers in the city feel they are entitled to the intimate details of one’s life.”

      He gave her a slight nod. “I gather I am not the first to inquire into your background. But a name is hardly intimate, madam.”

      “There is no need to grant anyone permission to use it, since I do not plan on being long in London.”

      He reached out and lifted the domino from her face, dropping it on the console table. “Do I look like the sort of man who needs permission?”

      No, he certainly did not. His very presence unnerved her. He was strong and commanding. He was dangerous. He was a man just like the one who had killed Cora. And then she realized what she had to do. She would come to it sooner or later, so it was best to have it over and done with now.

      She closed the short distance between them, slipped her arms around his neck and lifted on her toes to reach his mouth. She felt his little shock of surprise in the sudden stiffening of his spine, but when she pressed her lips to his, he softened, wrapping his arms around her and turning with her until her back was pressed to the wall. No escape.

      No mercy.

      His kiss was consuming and powerful. It was undeniable, making her head swim and her senses reel. And then, when her resistance weakened, it turned coaxing, teasing with little flicks of fire at the edges. Her breasts, flattened to his chest, began tingling and aching, quite unlike anything she’d experienced before. Somewhere in the back of her mind it registered that she was losing herself to this kiss—losing her very will to resist.

      Oh, dear Lord, she’d lost control of this situation! She summoned the few senses remaining to her and fought to regain that tenuous hold. Alas, Andrew Hunter had no intention of relinquishing it. His tongue met hers and merged with a hot demand. She wanted to retreat, but there was nowhere for her to go. With the wall at her back and Mr. Hunter at her front, she was trapped as effectively as if she’d been caged. And in another minute, she would crave captivity. She slid her fingers up his neck and stroked the soft wave of dark hair at his nape and arched against him, wanting more of the breathless feelings he elicited.

      And then he went still and stiff. He surrendered her mouth with a low growl and reached up to disentangle her arms from around him and turned away. Had she disgusted him?

      “You have bewitched me, Lady Lace,” he said as he turned back. “But I prefer to conduct such activities in private.”

      She realized that she had somehow wandered from her original purpose, but she didn’t know how. She could only stand there, looking at him, unable to speak.

      “Name your price. And please do not disappoint me by asking me what I mean.”

      Oh, that much, at least, was clear. She could only hope he thought she was a courtesan rather than a common whore. “I understand, sir, but I fear you have misread me. I am not for sale. Not at any price.”

      “Then СКАЧАТЬ