www.hollybushbooks.com
Matilda and the Duke are caught!
It all supported
her notion that the glasses, brown dresses, and scruffy boots separated the
chaff from the wheat. Those that deemed her worthy enough to speak to when
dressed that way, and those that chose this evening to address her. The Duke
had apparently noticed her gown.
Thornsby stared at
her as if in a trance. She wondered what was going through his mind. “Don’t
make Altry to be any more the cad than you, Thornsby. You’ve never noticed me
either. Unless to insult me.”
His eye twitched.
“That is untrue.”
“Far from it,”
Matilda said.
“Don’t presume to
know what is in my mind,” Thornsby said and grabbed Matilda’s bare shoulders.
The moment was
charged with sparks, shooting through the air, connecting him to her. Matilda
felt, well, she didn’t know what she felt. Fluttery and female. Angry. Aware.
The touch of his fingertips drifted down her arms leaving her hands numb. Her
voice came out barely above a whisper.
“What is on your
mind then?” she asked.
“I’m thinking of
kissing you, Miss Sheldon.”
Matilda batted her
lashes. “Is it the dress?”
Thornsby touched
his lips to hers. A feather’s touch. He inched back to gaze over her face. “I
don’t know. But I don’t think so.”
His breath was
warm on her cheeks. She’d never been this close to a man before. She could see
the lines around his mouth and the bristle of his beard. He touched his lips to
hers again.
“What do you
imagine it is?” Matilda whispered into his mouth.
Thornsby slipped
his hand around her waist and pulled her close. He tilted her head up with his finger.
“I haven’t a clue,” he said. Then he kissed her. Really kissed her.
* * *
Matilda’s lips
were open and guileless. Her skin was smooth and warm where he held her chin,
and she draped her arms over his shoulders. Thornsby turned his head and sunk
his tongue into her mouth. She sighed
and went soft in his arms. He ran his knuckles down her neck and lower still to
the curve of her breast. He knew from experience this was no casual kiss. This
was a lover’s kiss, a prelude to a bedding.
Thornsby released
Matilda’s lips and opened his eyes. Her eyes were still closed and her cheeks
rosy and her mouth in a lover’s pout. He was still breathing hard, but his blood
was beginning to return to his brain.
What had he done?
Why had he ignored Millicent and hurried to keep the wren from backing off a step?
Couldn’t fathom why he’d asked her to dance or been so damn angry when Altry
stared at her like a tasty, innocent morsel. And what on earth had possessed
him to drag her into a dark room without a chaperone. Thornsby’s head flew up
when the door banged open.
“Matilda!”
“Thornsby!”
No comments:
Post a Comment