A Lady of Persuasion (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #3)

“Honey?”


“Yes, pure English honey, collected from very contented bees. I interviewed the beekeeper myself, and he assured me the drones were treated most fairly, paid an honest wage, and given the Sabbath to rest. And now that they’ve done their service, I’ve arranged for the whole hive to be pensioned off to a charming little beech grove in Shropshire, right next to a meadow abundant with clover. So you see,” he said, moving the spoon toward her lips, “you may partake of this ice in good conscience.”

Bel giggled. For heaven’s sake, she never giggled. With those smooth arguments and that persuasive grin, he was bound to be a terrific success in Parliament. “You are teasing me. Most shamelessly.”

“Yes. And you’re enjoying it.” Leaning closer, he lifted the spoon to her mouth. “Really, Isabel. You must eat. You must get well, if we are to marry as planned, and …” His voice took on a sudden, thrilling intensity. “And I don’t wish to delay.”

She closed her eyes. If she were truly strong, she would find it in herself to push the temptation away. But she was ill and weak, and though she knew in her conscience she shouldn’t give in

…

She did.

Her lips closed around the chilled spoon, and she drew on it with light suction, pulling the frozen confection into her mouth.

Oh.

Oh, paradise.

At first, the cold burned her lips and tongue, and the ice crystals abraded her palate like small slivers of glass. But then the sharp edges melted to cream, and each tiny excoriation was now soothed, with exquisite coolness and a dark, bittersweet spice.

Swallowing, she opened her eyes to find him offering her a second spoonful. This bite she accepted with eyes wide open, held rapt by his warm, amber-flecked gaze as the oscillation of sharp pain and rich pleasure teased her senses again.

“Do you like it?” he asked, slowly retracting the spoon from between her pursed lips. Did she? Bel licked her lips, considering. She couldn’t describe the sensation as wholly pleasant, but she knew one thing. “I want more.”

He gave a hoarse chuckle—a sound more throaty and raw than his usual laugh. As he lifted another bite to her lips, Bel watched his dark pupils widening with anticipation, his full lips parting in unison with hers. He seemed to experience the same sweet torture she did, as the burning cold flooded her mouth. Once again, he dragged the spoon from between her lips. And for some unknown, wicked reason, Bel found herself pursing them tighter in defiance. As if to tease.

She licked her lips again, slowly, taking joy in the way his gaze riveted to her mouth. Yes, she felt strong when he teased her, but teasing him back … this was power. The sensation rushed through the top of her head, like cold.

When he spoke, his voice was husky. “May I taste?”

“Yes,” she blurted out. How thoughtless she’d been, not to offer before he could ask. “Yes, of course.”

Instead of dipping the spoon again, however, Toby set the dish aside. And before Bel even knew what was happening, his hands were framing her jaw, angling her face to his. And then his body was flush against hers, his lips covering hers, and his tongue … His tongue was inside her mouth, teasing hers. Tasting.

Shocked, Bel closed her eyes. This felt so good, it had to be wrong. She ought to push this temptation away. She shouldn’t give in.

But she did.

And she discovered that her future husband tasted even better than chocolate. His mouth moved confidently over hers as his tongue swept between her lips, in and out. The effect was dizzying. Her breath rushed out in a little whimpering sigh. Toby’s hands relaxed where they clasped her face, and his lips paused against hers in a deceptively innocent kiss. He was offering her a chance to resist. An opportunity to pull away. But as with the ice, she wasn’t satisfied with one taste of him. Maybe that fever had done something to her. She knew it was wrong, but she wanted more.

Her hands flew around his neck, threading into the locks of his hair where it met his cravat. As he renewed the kiss, she allowed her fingers to explore. How long she’d been wanting to touch him like this! His hair felt every bit as sleek as it looked, and the muscles of his neck were delightfully solid. And his skin … When she slid one fingertip beneath his starched neckcloth, she discovered his skin to be smooth and hot and just a bit damp with perspiration. A new thrill went through her, to know that beneath his confident exterior, he was simply a man, raw and elemental. And she made him sweat.