Yet she buried her hands in his hair as he maneuvered one breast free of its trappings and covered it with his mouth.
The Vile Seducer hadn’t done such a thing—just mauled her through her bodice. But Edwin . . . oh, heavens. His silky, warm mouth explored her, sucking and soothing until she dug her fingers into his scalp. “Ohh . . . that is so . . . so . . .” She let out a shuddering sigh.
“You like that, do you?”
“Don’t you?”
He uttered a choked laugh against her breast. “As if you need to ask.” His tongue flicked her nipple. “Can’t you see how I forget myself when I’m with you?”
His hair spilled over her hands like black satin as she clutched his head to her bosom. “But why?” she breathed. “You’re always . . . chiding me.”
“That’s to keep everyone from realizing that I want you in my bed.” He stared up at her, eyes gleaming. “I feared the whole damned world could tell.”
“That isn’t why you chide me,” she said wryly. “You disapprove of me, admit it.”
“You do make me insane.” He teased her breast lightly with his teeth, making her arch up against him. “And if we were to marry—”
“You would shoot me inside a month. Or I would shoot you.”
“Would you?” He straightened, dragging his open mouth up her neck in a series of hot kisses. “You’re not shooting me now.”
“No. But you’re . . . doing naughty things to distract me,” she gasped. “Later, I’ll regret letting you.”
“So I’ll marry you.” His hands caressed her other breast through her clothes. “Then you’ll have no regrets.”
“Edwin . . .”
He took her mouth again, to silence her.
But his hands were on her above and below, and she felt consumed by those feelings again, and this time panic swelled up from below like a mighty wave. It was too much. Too much!
She shoved him back, then slipped from between him and the table, grabbing a hairbrush as she went, which she brandished in front of her like a cudgel. Frantically, she struggled to pull her bodice up with the other hand.
His gaze dipped to the brush. “Clarissa?”
The shock in his voice brought her up short. Lord, he must think her mad.
She forced herself to lower the brush as she fought for calm. He must never guess her sordid past. She could only imagine what he would make of it. Bad enough that she had let him go as far as this.
With a steadying breath, she said firmly, “I will not let you ruin me.” I won’t let you hurt me.
“Ruin you?” He seemed disturbed by the words, for his eyes narrowed. “Surely you know I would never ruin you. I would never dishonor you so.”
The very mention of honor made her despair. He couldn’t understand, and if he ever learned the truth . . . “Men dishonor women every day, without a thought.”
“True.” He stepped closer, and she barely stifled her panic. “But I am not that sort of man. I am not my brother.”
The mention of Samuel reminded her whom she was dealing with. This was Edwin. She was being absurd. She set the brush down on the table.
He released a long breath. “Indeed, I am willing to marry you.”
Willing. But not exactly eager. “To protect me from Durand,” she said as she finished restoring her clothing.
With a nod, he said, “It makes sense. We’re friends, are we not?”
She swallowed. Edwin was ever practical. They were friends, so they should marry. Because it would “make sense” and be convenient. “It hardly seems a good basis for a lifetime together.”
He came near enough to cup her cheek. “All I ask is that you consider it. Just think about it, all right?”
Her breath stuttered out of her. She was a jumble of nerves, and given the heat in his eyes, she was horribly afraid he might try to kiss her again. She wanted it; she feared it. Most of all, she worried she might do something stupid in response . . . like shy from him and give herself away.
But just as he bent toward her, slowly, carefully, the door opened.
“Well, well,” Count Durand said in a hard voice. “If it isn’t the newly engaged couple.”
The cold rage that leapt in Edwin’s face gave her pause. Then he smoothed it from his expression and turned, taking her hand as he moved and pulling her next to him so that they formed a united front.
“What do you want, Durand?” he snapped.
The Frenchman ignored Edwin to address Clarissa. “I was sent by your mother to find you, Lady Clarissa.”
“My mother would never entrust that task to you,” Clarissa said, fighting the gorge rising in her throat.
“You think not? She likes me, you know.”
Before Clarissa could call that the lie she knew it was, Edwin moved ever so slightly in front of her. “Lady Margrave is friendly to everyone. But she’s not mad.”
“We’ll be coming along in a moment, sir,” Clarissa added. “Do go on and tell Mama so. If indeed she sent you to look for me.”
His lips formed a thin line. “I was charged with accompanying you. So I will wait until you’re done with his lordship.”
“The devil you will,” Edwin said. “You’ve already caused enough trouble for tonight by spilling our news prematurely.”