Page 3 of The Rogue’s Countess

“Forgive me,” she choked out as she stared up into gray eyes that were almost silver in the moonlight. “I thought…thought you were someone else.”

“A mistake I’m happy to forgive.” The words were a sinful, velvety caress across her senses, and she trembled as his fingers trailed their way along the curve of her exposed shoulder to the edge of her sleeve.

“Perhaps…if you would release me.”

“Is that what you really want?” The quiet question sent another tremor rippling through her.

“I don’t understand.”

Phoebe’s heart fluttered like a frantic bird in her breast as she saw the desire flashing in his eyes. Incapable of pulling away from him, she tried to keep breathing as his fingers caught her by the chin, and he swept his thumb across her lower lip in the lightest of caresses.

Every inch of her was on fire, unlike anything she’d experienced before, and she realized she wanted more of his touch. The thought made her suck in a sharp breath of surprise and trepidation. This man was dangerous not only to her senses, but to everything she’d come to accept as her lot in her life with Alfred.

“Most women would have protested quite vigorously the moment they realized their mistake.” The silken whisper layered her skin with frisson. He lowered his head and brushed her ear with her lips. “And yet, you seemed quite content to remain in my arms.”

“That’s not true.”

It was a lie. She knew she should have put several feet between them the moment she’d realized he wasn’t Lawrence and certainly when he’d returned her kiss. She didn’t know why she hadn’t done so already.

“You’re not a very good liar,” he murmured with obvious amusement as he bent his head to tease her lips in a hot kiss. “You’re still in my arms.”

Wild excitement washed over Phoebe at the playful caress. Quivering, she closed her eyes and breathed in his masculine scent. Brandy, leather, and pine poured over her senses as his mouth nipped at hers. It was a heady sensation. Tantalizing.

“I am not about to struggle with you like a damsel in the arms of a cad,” she snapped as her eyes flew open to see him studying her with amusement. “I am waiting for you to release me.”

“Another lie?” he chuckled. It was a pleasant sound, unlike Alfred’s malicious ones. The stranger’s soft laugh declared he was teasing her. “I think you enjoyed kissing me, and I think you’d like me to do so again.”

“I would not,” Phoebe gasped as she stared up at him in dismay. Another lie, but she could hardly admit the truth.

“Very well then,” he said with a wicked smile. “I won’t stop you from fleeing.”

In the next instant, his arms were no longer wrapped around her, and he took a small step backward. The loss of his warmth stunned Phoebe. It was as if she’d been abruptly thrust out into a cold and bitter winter day. She didn’t move. She couldn’t. When she didn’t try to escape, he reached out to stroke her cheek with his forefinger.

“I wonder if you know how lovely you are,” he murmured as his finger grazed its way across her bottom lip once more in a sensual stroke.

Phoebe flushed at his compliment. She knew she should run back to the sanctuary of the ballroom as fast as she could, but logic was swiftly overruled by her desire to stay. His kiss was the first intimate touch she’d ever experienced that hadn’t involved some form of cold humiliation. It was impossible to deny his touch had stirred a longing deep inside her. A yearning for something more in her life, if only for the briefest of moments.

“I…” She shook her head as she struggled to describe what she was feeling.

He closed the narrow space between them once more but didn’t touch her. Instead, he bent his head, his warm breath feathering its way across her ear lobe.

“Have you never been properly kissed, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said with a catch in her voice. His mouth nibbled at her ear. The sensation sent shock waves rippling through her.

“Your kiss is reticent, almost innocent,” he murmured with the merest hint of puzzlement. “It’s as if you’ve never been kissed before.”

The stranger’s observation made her throat close up with emotion. What he’d said was true. Phoebe couldn’t recall a single instance when her husband had kissed her as this stranger had done. Alfred’s touch had always been a cold, painful assault on her mouth. It had always created a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach. This man’s kiss was the first taste of pleasure she’d ever known.

“I am no stranger to a man’s bed, if that’s what you mean,” she said in a tight voice as images of Alfred rutting over her like a pig filled her head.

“Then it was a poor lover who left your mouth tasting so delectably untouched.” His mouth singed hers for the briefest second as he kissed her lightly. “You might be acquainted with a man’s bed, but whomever he was, it’s obvious he left you longing for something more.”

She drew in a sharp breath at the way he’d seen into her soul so easily. He kissed her again, this time his hands cupped her face. The caress sent her heartbeat skidding out of control. Pleasure tingled its way down her spine as she leaned into him and reveled in the fire of his touch. Everything faded away as she experienced something she’d only dreamed about.

The stranger pulled her close once more, and her mind reeled as her mouth eagerly parted for him. His kiss connected her to him in a way that made her forget everything but the way his touch heightened her longing for something that had never been within her reach until now. Common sense tried to push its way through the mist of pleasure enveloping her, but it was smothered by the honeyed languor flowing through her limbs.

From deep inside, the years of longing for a lover’s gentle caress welled up to engulf her. Held hostage to the sensations gripping her, she willingly allowed herself to drown in a whirlpool of arousal and need. Blinded to everything but the taste of him, she explored his mouth with a fervor that stunned her. In response, his lips broke away from her mouth and down the side of her neck.