Excerpt: A Scoundrel's Kiss
Book 4: Escape with a Scoundrel
“You’re… you’re…” She still couldn’t seem to catch her breath, though he wasn’t holding her anymore in the darkness. “You’re talking too fast! I can’t understand you.”
His hands—those large, strong, gentle hands—moved to cup her face. “I’m sorry. Did they tell you how you came to be here?” He spoke a bit more slowly now.
She swallowed hard. Her mind felt all muddled…a different sort of muddled than she was accustomed to. She found it terribly difficult to focus on his words, even though she could understand him better now.
She couldn’t think of anything but what it felt like to have him touch her. The sensation was at once soothing and stimulating, so very…singular…remarkable…
Marvelous.
“Marie?” he urged.
“They…they said there was an ‘accident.’ Something to do with a ‘carriage.’ That’s all they would tell me.” She wet her dry lips with her tongue. “Who are you?”
“Your husband,” he replied softly.
Husband. The word had no meaning.
“You really don’t remember me?” His thumbs brushed over her temples, wiping away her tears. “Or anything at all?”
Her answer seemed very important to him, and for some reason, she didn’t want to disappoint him. But she didn’t remember ever being held this way before. By anyone. But the feelings, the overwhelming sensations—the roughness of his palms, the texture of his skin against hers, the heat of his touch, the way he sent all thought spinning away—affected her so strongly. Surely he must be someone she had known before.
But she didn’t remember him at all.
“No. I’m…sorry.”
“It’s all right.” He didn’t seem nearly as upset as the nuns did when she couldn’t answer their questions. In fact, he bent down and brushed kisses over her cheeks and forehead. “I promise, I’ll explain everything. But right now we have to get out of here.”
Her stomach became all fluttery at the feel of what his lips were doing—but her mind fastened onto what he had just said.
Out! Now that was a word she understood!
“You mean…we’re going to leave?” she asked unsteadily, barely able to believe it. “You’re taking me away from this place?”
“As far away as possible.”
“We’re going home?”
With a swirl of movement, he handed her a bundled cloth. “Yes. Put that on and we’ll be on our way.”
It was his cloak, still warm from his body. She didn’t bother to ask why he wanted her to wear a cloak when it was so warm tonight. Whoever he was, he was taking her home!
“Hurry,” he said. “You can hardly go about the streets of Paris with nothing on but…uh…whatever that is you’re wearing.” He stepped away from her a bit.
“I would wear Sister Ratface’s pointy white hat if it meant I could leave here!” She laughed—the first time she had done so since awakening in this place. It was a very good feeling. Tying the cloak’s fastenings at her neck, she jumped to her feet.
And immediately sat back down with a sharp inhalation of pain. Her feet, which had been numb so long, now hurt like fire.
“Husbandmax, I don’t know if I can walk.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment. He stayed where he was, as if he did not want to come near her again.
He wouldn’t leave her, would he?
“Damn,” he muttered under his breath. Abruptly, he came back to the bed. “We don’t have time to wait.”
He reached down and helped her to her feet.
And then he lifted her in his arms!
She gave a startled gasp as he slid one strong arm around her shoulders, the other beneath her knees. Her bare knees. He moved toward the door, holding her as if she were lighter than the wisp of cotton she wore. Her chemise and his cloak had bunched up around her thighs—and his shirtsleeves must be pushed up, because she could feel the bristly hair on his bare arm against the sensitive skin on the backs of her legs. It felt very scratchy and ticklish and…
Remarkable.
It made her blush. All over.
“H-husbandmax?” she whispered when he stopped to open the door. He must be quite tall; she seemed to be an awfully long way from the ground. “Could you—”
“Shhhh. If anyone notices us, this is all over.” His lips were very close to her ear, so close she could feel them like the touch of a butterfly’s wing. The heat of his breath against her earlobe and neck made her shiver. “And it’s just Max,” he said tightly, adding, almost as an afterthought, “darling.”
He shifted her slightly and opened the door.
She didn’t question him further. Out. Freedom. Home. Those were the most important things on her mind at the moment. Everything else could wait.
He moved almost soundlessly, stepping through the door and closing it softly behind them. Her guard, Victor, wasn’t in his usual spot. She didn’t ask what had happened to him, because she sensed instantly that it had something to do with the quiet oof noises she had heard earlier. Husbandmax—or rather justmax, she corrected herself—must have done something to him.
The thought made her uneasy. In order to overcome brawny, hot-tempered Victor, the stranger who now carried her in his arms would have to be rather…formidable.
Even dangerous.
But to be free of this place, she would face any risk. Hiding her face against his shoulder, she huddled closer. He walked swiftly through the darkened corridors, his grasp so strong, it felt as if he would never let her go.