She should take the servants stairs. That would lessen the chance of being seen.
She rolled her eyes at her own dramatics as she started down the lesser-known staircase. Who exactly was going to see her? The house was completely silent, not even a creak. She meandered around several curves and came upon the large wooden door that led to the kitchen. Pushing it open, the scent of rising bread and pheasant from last night’s meal welcomed her. A few low burning candles remained lit, and she glanced about the efficient space.
A throat cleared.
Spinning, she searched the darkness for the source of the sound.
“Damn,” she whispered, as her eyes narrowed toward a dark figure sitting at a table shadowed enough for her to miss upon entrance.
“Such language for a lady? And here my mother has assured me that you hoydens had matured.” He tsked his tongue.
“Good evening, Satan.”
“Ah, pet names? My heart is warm with the thought of it, hag.” He stood and walked toward her. Even in the darkness, Lucas, the Earl of Ashbury was devastatingly distracting. His cravat was missing from his crisp shirt, and he wore no jacket. The candlelight created a delightful silhouette of his muscular legs in his tight breeches, which somehow accented his tall stature and broad shoulders.
Meredith couldn’t help but swallow and take a step back, even as she scolded herself for doing so.
“Retreating?” He shook his head. “I’m disappointed.”
Meredith straightened her shoulders. “Not retreating. Simply taking a step back away from the stench.”
He laid a hand over his heart.”Now I’m wounded.”
“If only.”
Pausing in his approach, he tilted his head slightly. “You know, if I didn’t find you so irritating I might compliment your verbal sparring.”
“A backhanded compliment? You must be getting soft in your old age.” She turned to walk away, ignoring the protesting clamp of her stomach.
A warm hand grasped her elbow, sending shivers of awareness up her spine. Cautiously she turned.
Candlelight illuminated the deep hue of his eyes, making them almost black. His skin was shadowed, making the crisp white of his shirt seem almost otherworldly. The smirk on his face faded slightly as she met his gaze, finding that she was unable to glance away.
His grip tightened slightly, and he pulled her near. Her body betrayed her as she swayed closer, unable to escape the invitation in his eyes.
Curiosity burned in his gaze as his hand released her elbow and traced up her arm till his fingers caressed the line of her jaw. In the deep recesses of her mind she noted he wore no gloves, making the touch skin on skin.
Intimate, seductive, and creating the most feverish sensation breaking out across her flesh.
“Soft…” he whispered. “I simply didn’t expect…” Then as soon as the attraction flared in his eyes, it was silenced. “So… seduction your weakness?” Roughly he pulled her up against his body.
The abrupt movement broke the spell he had woven, and violently she pressed against his chest, ignoring the warmth he radiated. “If that is how you seduce women, it’s not a wonder you’re still unmarried at such an… advanced age.” She broke free from his gasp.
“That sounds like a challenge.” Lucas grinned, his posture once again completely relaxed.
“A challenge assumes the participant has a fighting chance. You, sir… do not.” She shook her head, straightened her shoulders, and placed her hand on the latch.
“You’re not as immune to my charm as you pretend to be,” his sultry whisper chased his hot breath across her neck.
“You’re not as charming as you think,” she retorted.
Without warning, he spun her around, pressed her against the door, and leaned in.
Meredith glared, willing her body to not respond to his heat, his attempt at proving some point.
“Challenge accepted,” he whispered. His mouth was hot against hers, nipping and caressing, ravaging and stealing her affection without permission.
She willed her eyes to stay open, but they fluttered closed.
Pressing her hands against his chest, she tried to push him away but found that she rather liked the hard plane of his body against her palms.
As she tried to pull away from the kiss, he simply pursued her mouth, making a delightful game that threatened to take down her defenses. Yet when his hand reached around and traced up her belly, higher than he ought, she found her resolve and bit his lip, pulling away.
“No,” she asserted, even as she could feel the sweet ache of her swollen lips.
“Oh Meredith…” He leaned forward, holding her gaze. “It’s only a matter of time…” With that, he gave a nod, turned and disappeared into the shadows of the kitchen. A moment later a door shut softly, letting her know she was alone.
The relief of solitude washed over her and on trembling legs, she slid down the door and sat on the cold stone floor of the kitchen. Her mind spun. Had that truly just happened?
Had Lucas kissed her?
Had she let him?
But the most telling question of all…