Society's Most Scandalous Viscount by Anabelle Bryant Page B

command, but she remained steady and it was he who experienced a startling impatience.
    â€œAre you ready?” Good God his question had a hundred interpretations.
    â€œYes.” One powerful word left her lips.
    He drew her closer, needing to kiss her. His lips hovered near the back of her neck. His cock ached. His heart hammered hard. The report would thrust her backward into his chest. Knowing this, he tensed with expectation and together they squeezed the trigger. Everything he anticipated came to fruition. She slammed against his body with enough force to shake common sense loose.
    It took several minutes before either of them acknowledged he’d wrapped her tight in his arms, her form captured and held motionless against his heart, his chin buried in her hair, softer than swan’s down.
    She sought to disentangle herself before he let her go.
    â€œI’ve missed the mark.” The note of disappointment in her voice helped him regain a shred of control.
    â€œThe target, at least.” Had the birds scattered? He didn’t remember. With reluctance, he released her, watching the slow sway of her hips as she strode forward. When she continued past the first pine and further into the trees he followed like a sailor lured by a selkie, his strides quickly gaining ground.

Chapter Eight
    Distance. She needed distance. Anything to escape the heat of his body against hers. The action evoked an unanswered yearning for which she had no label, the sensation leaving her more confused than assured. Still on another level, she wanted it to continue and missed it as soon as she pulled away. What torture had she inflicted upon herself? Not once but twice, and yet, she’d do it again. This man, Benedict, was placed in her path as if Fate was playing a fickle game, when she hardly knew her own future. Grandmother would label it serendipity. Angelica shook her head as if to erase the ridiculous notion. She sought a memorable adventure, not an experience to cause further turmoil.
    In a rush, she continued past a few tall oaks then bent to pluck a violet, out of place on the needle-blanketed ground. She twirled it between her thumb and forefinger in pensive concentration. She could hear the thud of his boots approaching. His shadow blocked any sparse light as he overtook her.
    He didn’t speak and she dropped the little flower, startled when he grasped her wrist and yanked her forward. Her breasts pressed against his chest as he backed into the trunk of a sturdy tree, hauling her with him.
    â€œWhat are you about? Running from the cottage and now hurrying into the woods?”
    The vibration of his low murmured question radiated through her and it had nothing to do with their proximity or compromised position. Again delicious, unbidden heat, swirled deep in her belly, then settled lower still.
    â€œI…” She hesitated. Why bother with a contrived explanation? Especially when she’d sound foolish? She couldn’t fathom what caused her actions of late. “I don’t know.” She offered the truth, no matter the clarification was inadequate.
    â€œDo you consider kisses so lightly then?” His eyes lit with contained amusement though his mouth hovered over hers as if he barely restrained himself from capturing her lips.
    His question had no easy answer.
Yes
implied his kiss had been meaningful.
No
suggested she gave kisses freely and would gladly welcome another. She made the mistake of inhaling and the scent of his shaving soap evoked the intimacy of the evening before. Embarrassment heated her skin. Or was it desire now that she’d experienced the perfection of his kiss. Her bold request would forever haunt her.
    â€œI don’t know. I was curious. I wanted a kiss, nothing more.” Her words whispered out with an unexpected breathlessness, ensuring she sounded a babbling fool. He must have considered her so. His eyes twinkled as he scrutinized her expression.
    â€œIf