It was the Viking’s voice, but she didn’t know where he was. She couldn’t seem to reach him. She needed to touch him again, to kiss him again. She felt bereft without his hands on her. She looked over her shoulder. “Mr. Mostyn.”
His hand was rough on her arm. “Sit.” He guided her to the bench’s seat and pushed her down. The iron bench felt cold under her thin silk dress, especially when compared to the tropical splendor that had been the Viking’s body. Lorrie closed her eyes and the world ceased spinning for a moment.
Finally, she opened her eyes again and looked up. The Viking stood beside the bench, his gaze on Carlton House, just visible beyond the topiaries.
“What happened?” she asked.
He gazed down at her, then back at the house.
“I mean, I know you kissed me, but I don’t understand. I didn’t know kisses could be like that.” Since he didn’t respond, she filled the silence. “It did not even feel like a kiss. It felt…”
He glanced down at her again.
“More intimate.” She met his gaze.
“Let’s go.”
“Why?”
His look darkened, and she waved the storm clouds away. “I know why you want to return, but what I mean is, why did you kiss me?”
“A mistake,” he said. “Come.” This time he pulled her to her feet, moving back to make certain their bodies did not come into contact.
“No, I won’t go until you answer my question. It may have been a mistake, but why did you do it? Was it really just to prove Francis’s kisses are much like pressing one’s lips to a trout, because you proved that well enough.”
The Viking’s lips twitched, possibly with humor.
“You could have proven that with half as much effort.”
“Later,” he said and nodded toward the conservatory.
“Oh, no.” She took a step away from him. “If I can’t persuade you to discuss the matter now, I certainly won’t be able to coax anything from you later. Why do you have such an aversion to speaking?”
“Why do you have such an aversion to silence?”
She smiled because she had forced him to speak. “Because I want answers, and if I don’t ask, no one tells me. Half the time they don’t tell me anyway.”
“Once again you will be disappointed.”
“No, I won’t. I’m not returning to the ball until you answer me.” Which would hopefully be soon as she was beginning to shiver again.
He folded his arms across his chest—a chest, which she now knew, was quite hard and every bit as muscled as it appeared. But the gesture she took as an indication he thought her threat little more than a bluff.
“I mean it,” she said. “You cannot make me go in.”
“Really.”
Lorrie moved back again, prepared to put the bench between them. “What would you do? Fling me over your shoulder and carry me in like I was a square of carpet?”
He nodded sagely as though he rather liked that idea.
She scooted behind the bench. “Wouldn’t it be easier and less likely to cause scandal if you just answered my question?”
He sighed. “Why I kissed you.”
“Yes. Why you kissed me so…so intimately.”
“I wanted you.” He held out his hand. “Now, let’s go.”
Lorrie stared at him, her fingers gripping the back of the bench so she would not fall backward. “You wanted me? What does that mean? You wanted to kiss me?”
“Yes.” His brows lowered as he moved toward the bench. Lorrie scooted further away.
“And when you were kissing me, you wanted to keep kissing me because…because you liked kissing me.”
He didn’t give her any indication she was correct, but he didn’t deny her words either.
“I liked kissing you as well,” she admitted.
“I know.”
Arrogant man. She would ignore that remark. “I wanted to do more than kiss you.”
“No.” He nodded his head in the direction of the ball. “Inside.”
“That is what you meant, isn’t it? You desired me. You wanted me in your bed.” Her cheeks burst into flame. She did not have to see her reflection to know her face must have been as red as a beet. She was glad of the darkness in the garden.
“I answered your questions. Don’t make me chase you.”
But Lorrie was hardly listening. The Viking had wanted to bed her. Surely there had been other men who had considered her in this light. She had two older brothers, so she knew something of the minds of men. But the Viking was the first man who had ever acted on the desire. And if she was not mistaken, his feelings had not been entirely welcome. She remembered all had seemed somewhat…if not proper then contained until she had bitten his lip. That was when his control had seemed to break. She wondered what would happen if she did it again.
Unfortunately, her musings doomed her because the Viking took advantage of her distraction to move quickly. He rounded the bench, caught hold of her about the waist, and tucked her under his arm as though she were a parcel.
“Put me down!” she gasped. She punched his stomach, but that only had the effect of making her own hand hurt. “I will walk on my own.”
“Too late.”
Good grief but this was mortifying. If anyone should happen to see her, she would probably die of humiliation.
Finally, they reached the lighted area outside the conservatory, and he set her down. She swatted at him, then made a point of straightening her dress and her hair. “Oh drat. I must have dropped my wrap.” She started back for the topiary, but the Viking caught her arm. “I will send a servant to fetch it. You go inside.”
“Stop ordering me about.” But she didn’t argue further because his suggestion was actually quite sensible, and now that she could hear the music from the ball again, she remembered she really should have been dancing.
“Lorraine.”
She spun around to find her mother standing on the terrace. Lorrie had no idea how much the duchess had seen, whether she had just emerged or if she’d watched the Viking carry her back to the house.
“Coming, Mama. I needed a bit of air.”
The duchess’s gaze roved over the Viking and then she scanned Lorrie from head to foot. Lorrie had no idea how she looked. She hoped she did not appear as thoroughly debauched as she felt. “I am sure you did, but you are wanted in the ballroom. Hurry along now.”
Lorrie lifted her skirts, climbed the terrace steps, and followed her mother into the house. If she had the urge to look back at the topiaries where she’d had her first real kiss or the man who had given it to her, she behaved like the duke’s daughter she was and kept her eyes forward.
*
The woman was as annoying as the snipers Napoleon had employed during the war. The men had always seemed to appear out of nowhere, on top of some building Draven’s men needed to access, at the worst possible time. Nash could usually pick them off, but the most stubborn of them had to be left to Ewan, who would have to go around the building, sneak up to the roof, and dispose of the men without having his own head shot off.