Page 16 of The Lady's Forbidden Marquess
Oh, it was just a kiss, but it was also her first just a kiss.And it tasted of bergamot, danger, and the infuriating certainty that Lord Hawthorne had just rewritten every rule she thought she knew.
From the hallway came the thunder of boots—Henley, no doubt, summoned by some sixth sense.Pere straightened her spine, pressed her fingers to her tingling lips, and practiced her most innocent smile.Let the lecture come.She had a new specimen to catalog; the marquess who kissed like sin and fled like a saint.
Chapter Eight
Lord Hawthorne strodefrom the room, branding himself ten kinds of fool.His boots clipped a staccato rhythm down the corridor, as if trying to outrun his own heartbeat.Guilt gnawed at him, yet he couldn’t summon true remorse for that stolen kiss.Lady Peregrine’s claim that it stole her innocence only proved how pure she remained—a truth that both stirred and shamed him.He should confess to her brother Henley and lay the matter bare.But deep down, he knew he’d carry this secret to his grave, hoping Peregrine would too.If she did indeed tell Henley, it might reveal her intentions—perhaps a desperate bid to trap him, as he’d accused.Yet he doubted that.Peregrine, with her fire and pedigree, had no need for desperation.Her silence would keep his folly safe.
Still, that delicious moment proved his point.Peregrine wasn’t immune to his charm, despite her defiance, and her yielding to his kiss—without resistance—heightened his fear of Ramsford’s wiles.A rake like that could ruin her.He had to warn Henley, awkward as it would be.
Climbing into his carriage, he directed the driver home.As the horses’ hooves clattered on Mayfair’s cobblestones, his mind lingered on the kiss.It wasn’t its passion that struck him—though it had that in spades—but its simplicity.When had a kiss last been just a kiss?In his world, such moments were mere preludes to greater conquests.Yet this one stood alone—sensual, electric, unforgettable.He could still taste the faint sweetness of tea on her lips, feel the tremor of her gasp like a trapped bird against his mouth.He couldn’t recall the last time a kiss lingered in his memory like this, vivid and disarming, leaving him more confused than ever.
When he arrived at home, he requested tea and attempted to lose himself in the pile of parchments demanding his attention.He was reading his second letter for the fifth time when the tea arrived.With a dismissive wave, he excused the maid and all but tossed the document onto his desk, irritated at his inability to focus.As he strode over to the table where the tea things waited, he blew out an exasperated breath.The tea swirled into the cup, steam twisting above it invitingly, and he stared at it as if it held answers to his current state of mind.The bergamot curled like a taunt—her scent, her taste, her bloody existence invading his sanctuary.
It was a lesson, nothing more.He was proving his point and prove it he did.Yet, the memory of the kiss lingered like a haunting he couldn’t escape.He closed his eyes, tea forgotten, and could feel the softness of her lips, the tickle of her stunned gasp against his mouth, the sweet surrender of her returning his unexpected advances.It was shocking how powerful the memory had become, and it was only a few hours old.He needed to keep the hell away.
Yet, in that same moment, he remembered the need to talk with Henley.
Damn it all.
He lifted his teacup and took a fortifying drink before returning to his desk and withdrawing a blank missive.In quick order, he sent off a request for the viscount to meet with him this afternoon in his study.Neutral ground, rather, his own ground, which would remove any possibility of running into the hoyden in ladies’ clothing, Lady Peregrine.
He dispatched the missive immediately, hoping that Allendale could accommodate him.The sooner he did his good deed, the better.Then he could wash his hands of the whole mess and forget it ever happened.
But that was the rub of it, wasn’t it?One could never truly forget.How many times had he wished he could do so, without any hope of achieving that goal?Unwillingly, his mind flipped back the pages of history, his history, and brought into sharp focus the very memories he’d wished so hard to forget.
Memories of his mother.
Memories of his defense of her, even as a young man.
Memories of how she used his blind trust against him… against his father.
And remembering that it was too late, the dirt already over the grave, when his father’s integrity came to light.
Gabriel wiped his hand down his face.No, memories only grew in strength the more he tried to forget them.
And he was proving the point all over again as he closed his eyes and saw her face.Peregrine’s—bright, defiant, lips parted in surprise.
Sighing deeply, he leaned back in his desk’s chair and forced a focus to his mind, and dove into the parchments that were present, tangible, not the ghosts that haunted his past, and apparently now, present.
It was a few hours later when the pile of missives was considerably smaller when a knock sounded on his study door.
“Enter,” he called without looking up.
“My lord, the Viscount Allendale is here at your request,” Hucksly, his butler, remarked.
Gabriel glanced up, nodded at the servant, and then stood.His heart pounded with expectation for one of two things: either a roundhouse to the face and a demand to come up to scratch, or the need to pretend nothing had ever happened and proceed with caution.
“Good afternoon,” Henley stated as he strode into the room.
Gabriel studied his stride and his expression, quickly making assumptions.He didn’t appear angered; however, just to be safe, Gabriel elected to keep the desk between them.“Welcome, Lord Allendale.Thank you for accommodating me.”
“I do try to be accommodating,” he joked, his tone light yet his eyes were acutely taking in the room and studying Gabriel.
Resisting the urge to tug on his cravat, Gabriel motioned to a chair in front of his desk and waited for his friend to sit.
“I find I’m exceptionally curious as to why you not only visited me this morning but also requested my presence this afternoon.”Allendale leaned back in the chair, perfectly at ease.
At the mention of his morning’s presence at the Allendale residence, Gabriel had the distinct urge to shift restlessly.Instead, he cleared his throat.“Yes.May I offer you some brandy?Or tea—though I think by now it’s quite cold.I can have it refreshed.”
