But how?
She was pretty sure that with his temperament a simple kiss would do, but she could not very well kiss him in the same room as her sisters. Perhaps . . .
She leaped to her feet.
“Caroline?” He rose as well. “Is something amiss?
“No, no, nothing . . . It’s just . . . I seem to have forgotten something in my chamber.” Would he follow? She hoped so, since she could not bring herself to blatantlyinvitehim. “Please excuse me,” she all but squeaked and dashed toward the door after a quick glance at her sisters, who were still very much preoccupied. A maid stood watch in the corner of the room.
Wait, this was wrong. She shouldn’t dash. She shouldsaunter.Like Kate had done on her way to the card table. How hopeless. She half sauntered half dashed all the way to her chamber, leaving her awkward and out of breath.
Smooth, Caroline. Very smooth.
She should have at least given him a hint that she wished him to follow. A wink or something. Perhaps it was for the best, she told herself. Had he followed, she had no idea what she would do anyway. Pounce on him?
“Caroline.”
She whirled. His eyes were clear, and focussed entirely on her.
“You followed?”
“Yes. Why did you run?”
She found her gaze dropping to his lips. His lips parted, and a curse blew past them. Startled, her gaze lifted to meet his. Caroline’s own lips parted at what she saw there—heat. Pure. Smoldering. All-consuming.
If you want the Viscount, just take him.
“Why did you run?” he asked again. This time, his voice took on a gravelly and hoarse note, playing on the nerve-endings of her heart.
“I didn’t know what else to do,” she finally admitted on a whisper. “Kate and Clair . . .”
“What’s wrong?”
“They were in the room.”
And so Caroline dared to do what she wanted to all night. She snatched the lapels of his coat, rose up to the tips of her toes, and planted her lips firmly on his.
***
Mason stood startled for about three seconds before he pulled her into his embrace and firmly swept his tongue into the warm cavern of her mouth. His body reacted before his mind even grasped the significance of what had happened.
Caroline Harwood had kissed him.
Kissed him.
He dared not hope for too much and yet he would demand everything after this one kiss. He’d thought she’d run away from him and followed against his better judgement. His body had moved of its own accord, ignoring every warning not to crowd her too much, to give her space.
Instead, she’d run toward her bedchamber for . . . him?
Mason cursed at his mind that seemed to be stuck on one track.
And yet he couldn’t help the immediate satisfaction that spread through his chest into his whole body at her initiation of their kiss. Even more immediate was the lust that came along with the pure pleasure of knowing that Caroline Harwood wanted him just as much as he wanted her. No more conjecture. Only fact.
He backed her against the door of her chamber. Her sisters and Hunt were still in the drawing room. The last thing Mason wanted was one of them to happen on this scene and for Caroline to withdraw again. What he needed was a bed. A sofa. Anything soft.
Like her lips.
Lord, her lips were soft.
