Just a Kiss by Ally Broadfield Page B

grasped the cards. The tingle from his touch flowed through her.
    Charlotte frowned while he spread them on an empty corner of the desk. She knew she should prepare to share secrets about Anna with him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. It would be devastating enough to watch him with another woman without adding resentment of her closest friend to the equation.
    Sebastian shuffled quickly through the stack. “We’ve already eliminated Wakefield and Oldham,” he said, moving their cards to the side.
    She arched a brow. “We did?”
    He moved on without bothering to respond. “Carlisle is a dolt, and Sunderland hasn’t enough money to provide properly for you.”
    She leaned over the desk. “Any money would be preferable to none at all.”
    He stopped shuffling through the cards. “Trust me. You’d be better off on your own than married to man who is unable to provide for you.”
    Charlotte drew a line on the carpet with her slipper. He might be correct, but of course he didn’t know that her default option was marriage to Horace. Anyone would be better than Horace, and she had to be honest with herself. Sebastian would never be hers. She took a deep, steadying breath. Wouldn’t it be better to see him settled with Anna than one of the predators of the ton ?
    “I meant to tell you, Princess Tarasova mentioned how lovely the bouquet she received from you was. She enjoyed the lilies in particular. You seem to have a penchant for choosing just the right flowers.”
    He looked up. “Does that mean you liked your bouquet?”
    “Oh, yes. It was gorgeous and required only one small adjustment. Even Elizabeth exclaimed over it until she discovered it was for me.”
    He sent her a lopsided smile and went back to the cards. “Ravensdale is a rake. Leathersby won’t do.”
    Charlotte sighed in exasperation. “There must be one among them who would suffice.”
    He turned to face her and studied her as if he could see right through her. “None of them are worthy of you.”
    A wave of longing coursed through her. “Then who am I to marry?” When he failed to answer, she turned away and fiddled with the flowers on the desk. “Without the advantage of wealth or status, I’m not exactly overrun with prospects like you are.”
    “Perhaps not,” he said softly, “but at least you can be certain the man who marries you did so for love and not because of your wealth or title.”
    Charlotte ceased fiddling with the flowers.
    He walked up behind her and reached around her to pull a dark red rose from the vase. He drew the tips of the rose petals along the nape of her neck where it was bared by her high coiffure. A shiver surged up her spine. Sliding his hands over her shoulders, he gently turned her to face him. She was certain the heat from his hands branded her with his imprint. When the rose danced over the curve of first one collarbone, then the other, her pulse reached a crescendo. Charlotte placed her trembling hand upon his shoulder, arching her neck as he pulled the rose up the line of her pulse, along her jaw, and across her lips. Exquisite sensation flooded her as the sweet scent of the rose enveloped her. A tremor she couldn’t contain shook her frame. Before the tingle left her, he followed the path of the rose with his lips. He rained dozens of kisses across her collarbones and up her neck, as gentle as the brush of a butterfly’s wings.
    Pausing a heartbeat away from her mouth, he met her gaze. She was certain the desire evident in his eyes was mirrored in her own. Her eyelids fluttered closed when his lips brushed against hers. As excruciating as the torment of the rose petals had been, she was totally unprepared for the feel of his lips pressed against her own.
    His fingers slid into her hair while hers moved across his chest. After the initial gentleness, the pressure of his lips grew more urgent. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her against him as he deepened the kiss. He parted her lips,