Dark and Stormy Knight by Nina Mason

When their lips met, he started to kiss her back. Then, recovering his wits, he pulled away.
    “None of that now.”
    She blinked up at him with those beguiling liquid eyes of hers. “But, I like kissing.”
    He turned away, set his fists on the mantle, and looked into the fire. “You wouldn’t if you knew what kissing could cost you.”
    * * * *
    Gwyn and Leith were back at the table, eating the actual dessert—a traditional Scottish dish made with raspberries, honey, toasted oats, cream, and soft cheese. Mr. Brody brought the pudding in just after the footman finished having his way with Miss Brown.
    Clearly, Sir Leith’s feelings were as conflicted as hers. She did not relish being used, but neither was she prepared to go back to playing it safe. Faery magic had given her a second chance at life and, now more than ever, she was determined to make the most of it.
    She put a spoonful of the pudding in her mouth. Sweet-tart flavors burst on her tongue, mirroring the disparity in her heart. It was hard to believe the man who refused to kiss her had written The Knight of Cups . The book was so full of feeling. She couldn’t accept its author lacked the capacity for tender emotion.
    “A penny for your thoughts, Miss Morland.”
    “Trust me, you don’t want to know what I’m thinking.”
    He gave her a wink and an adorable crooked grin. “Why am I not surprised?”
    They went back to their desserts. She stole glances at him while he ate. He had such a beautiful mouth. How badly she wanted a taste. The sex had been good. A little detached, perhaps, though he’d given her an orgasm, so she could hardly complain. Still, a little passionate necking would have made the experience that much better.
    “I’m the footman no more.” With a declaratory wave of his hands, he pushed his half-eaten pudding aside. Setting his elbows on the table, he rubbed his hands together as he fixed her with an indomitable stare. “I’m now a messenger sent to escort you to the dungeon, where his lordship waits impatiently to discuss your transgressions. Needless to say, he is most displeased.”
    He rose from his chair, moved behind hers, and pulled it out. As she stood, he grabbed a candlestick off the mantle, clasped her arm, and led her to a dark corner of the room. With his boot, he swiped the Persian carpet aside to reveal a trap door. Letting her go, he handed her the candle and crouched down to pull the hatch open. As the hinges creaked, musty air rushed out.
    Swallowing her uneasiness, she passed the candle over the opening. Steps cut from the bedrock descended into the darkness.
    “You won’t hurt me, right?”
    Smiling wryly, he looked up at her. “There’s a fine line between pleasure and pain, Miss Morland. And we’re going to walk that line together.”
    Dread tightened her stomach. She’d rather not walk that line. Was it too late to back out?
    Taking the candle from her clammy hand, he started down the stairs, his boots heavy on the chiseled treads.
    She followed, despite feeling like the too-stupid-to-live heroine in a slasher movie. Was she really going into the BDSM dungeon of a blood-drinking faery? Yes, she was, albeit with more than a little trepidation. Part of her wanted to run for her life—the old, cowardly part her stepmother used to push around like a mop. Another part, the new seize-the-moment self, told her to have courage. He was her Beast, her enchanted prince, her knight in shining armor. Okay, so his armor was more tarnished than gleaming, but so what? Last time she checked, armor could be scrubbed and polished by the right woman. And she was determined to be the one who restored his shine.
     
     

Chapter 7
     
    Carpe diem. Carpe diem. Carpe diem.
    All the way down the stairs and through the dark and spooky corridors, Gwyn chanted her new mantra to herself.
    Carpe diem. Carpe diem. Carpe diem.
    She could do this, damn it. And if she couldn’t, she had a safe word. Just, please God, don’t let her