He’d known it the moment he pulled her into his arms—an action that had been more out of long habit than desire. And then, when she should have run away screaming, she’d done the unthinkable. She’d kissed him.
She was no novice kisser either. Stephen had felt his blood heat when her mouth touched his. And when her tongue, small and moist, had touched the tip of his own, he’d felt his pulse quicken, and his cock harden, and he’d been so tempted to toss her onto his desk, flip up her skirts, and plunge into her.
But he had not. It was enough that he’d wanted to, that he’d felt the old need, the familiar lust. He could have given into it. He could have ruined Josephine Hale as he’d ruined another before her.
Guilt slammed into him, sharp and piercing as always.
He wanted Josephine Hale, but he could not act on that. She might never know how hard it had been for him to refuse her offer, to refuse her when she gave herself to him so openly, so freely. She might never know how hard he’d clenched his jaw to keep from calling her name when she’d slipped back out his window.
She would never know how he’d forced his reluctant arms to push the window shut. She would never know the yearning and need she’d left him with.
And she might think she’d left him for good, but Stephen knew now that he would see her again.
Soon.
Chapter Four
“There he is,” Ashley’s voice hissed in her ear. “I cannot believe he had the audacity to attend.”
“I cannot believe the ladies-patronesses granted him a ticket,” Maddie replied.
“Don’t be a goose. They granted him a subscription. He’s eligible and an earl.”
Josie didn’t need to look over her shoulder to know her cousins were speaking of the Earl of Westman. She’d heard the tinkle of female voices echoing through Almack’s din, and there were only a few men in England who could achieve that effect simply by entering Willis’s Rooms. “He’s not that eligible,” Josie said, feeling peevish.
Why did everyone care so much about the Earl of Westman?
He couldn’t even kiss. Some rake he must have been.
“You know that his family is practically destitute,” she said, letting her ill humor show.
“All the more reason to grant him a subscription,” Ashley retorted, rising on tiptoes to see over Josie’s shoulder, presumably to follow the earl’s movements. Josie had to dig her nails into her palm to keep from turning and looking as well. “The ladies-patronesses love to play matchmaker,” Ashley continued. “No doubt they have some unwitting heiress in mind for him.”
Josie scowled. “No doubt.”
“My, but you’re in a foul mood all of a sudden,” Maddie observed, flicking her fan closed. “Josie, you don’t harbor a tendre for Westman, do you?”
“Of course not! What utter rot.”
“Utter rot.” Maddie blinked several times, then notched her head up. “So sorry to have offended you.”
Josie knew the signs when she’d hurt Maddie’s feelings. “Maddie, you didn’t offend me. In fact, I’m sorry I’m so awful to be around tonight.”
Maddie was instantly all compassion. “You’re not awful. Don’t talk so.” She put her hand on Josie’s shoulder, and Josie tried to smile.
Then, when Maddie wasn’t looking, Josie shook her head in disgust, mostly at herself. She didn’t care if Westman was in attendance or not. So she had made a fool of herself with him. It was not as though he were going to spread the story about. No one ever need know.
In fact, Josie told herself, she was one of the lucky ones. If she hadn’t crept into Westman’s library and kissed him, she too might be mooning over the earl. As it was, she had no reason to be even the slightest bit interested in him. She could concentrate on finding another eligible man to be her lover.
A man who could kiss.
With the object of forgetting Westman foremost in her mind, Josie turned to the assembly room at large and surveyed the couches full of guests. It was nigh eleven, and the dancing would undoubtedly begin any moment. The room was quickly filling, five hundred elite from the upper ten thousand dressed in their best and assessing one another as she assessed them.
At the far end of the room, the ladies-patronesses had taken up residence on a large couch that gave them a superior view of the room as a whole. It was a large room, over one hundred feet long and forty feet wide. At the end nearest Josie, the orchestra from Edinburgh was tuning their instruments in the little balcony overlooking the dance floor.
Josie’s gaze roamed quickly over the large, sparkling chandeliers, the gold wall sconces, the gleaming floor of the room. From habit, she noted the Greek statues and the lavish, heavy draperies hanging from the ornate molding at the ceiling. Usually, she enjoyed looking at all the finery, but tonight she was far more interested in the people. In particular, she studied each of the men that came into her line of sight. That one was a duke, looking to marry and produce an heir. That one she’d had a brief flirtation with last Season. He no longer interested her. That one might do, except he was rather short, and she preferred tall men. Her gaze moved on, until it was torn back to the handsome figure of a man in a blue coat, with brown hair in a queue down his back. She could not see his face, but his stance, his form, everything about him riveted her. Right height. Right build. And his attitude was that of languid indolence. Oh, now she wouldn’t mind an introduction to that one.
And then he turned, and Josie almost gaped. It was Westman, of course. He saw her immediately and before she could turn away, he gave her one lascivious wink.
