Chapter 9

Drake’s kiss was rougher than Rival’s had been. He held her too tightly. He ravaged her mouth. It should have been worse, far worse, than her previous ordeal—but somehow it drove every thought of that previous ordeal right out of her head. In fact, it drove every rational thought out of her head. She went out of her head. Out of her mind.

His kiss was ruthless. Fierce. Almost brutal. She should have loathed it. Instead, she loved it. She should have fought him. Instead, she clung to him. She should have been terrified. Instead, an answering ferocity rose in her, and she kissed him back with a wildness that swiftly matched his own.

It was inexplicable. Insane. But she not only endured his kiss, she welcomed it, and melted before his onslaught like butter before a flame.

She heard his soft, hoarse exclamations, urging her on, and dimly realized that the moaned response she heard was coming from her own throat. Their touch was more than physical; so deep a thrill could not be explained by the contact of mere flesh. It was their minds that met and linked, in a primitive communication far deeper than words. The shock of recognition was like discovering, unexpectedly, that your soul had an identical twin.

Lilah clung to Drake as if he were a long-lost part of her, the missing half of the most important, cherished part of her being, heart of her heart, unexpectedly discovered after life-long separation…a part of her she had not known was missing, but once met, instinctively recognized. Joy filled her. Madness seized her. She could not get close enough.

Frenzied fingers tore at each other’s masks, removing them, discarding them. His face, oh, his face. More skin to touch, closer, closer. More mutters, more gasps. More feelings. She was drowning in emotions she could not name. She clutched at Drake, writhing, pressing wantonly against his body, glorying in the feel of him. There was a tearing sound as her lace gave way, and then the pop of a waistcoat button.

Drake’s button hit the marble floor and flew, skittering, across the tile, striking the baseboard on the other side of the room with a ping like a bell. This sound, at last, penetrated the fog of heat that enveloped them.

They fell apart at once, gasping for breath. Lilah’s chest was heaving as if she had just run a race. She pressed one hand to her bosom, struggling to fill her lungs while restraining her breasts. They were ready to pop entirely out of the low decolletage where her lace had torn.

The strange, wild joy she had felt was rudely dispelled by the breaking of their contact. Her emotions seemed to break into wisps and float away like fog in a wind. Confusion shot through her, quickly followed by embarrassment. And consternation. She hardly knew where to look.

“What,” she uttered faintly, “was that?”

Drake looked as dazed as she felt. He cleared his throat and shook his head like a dog emerging from water. “Nothing,” he croaked. “That was nothing.”

Now Lilah felt even more confused. “Rubbish,” she said. Her voice was a little stronger. “Whatever that was, it certainly was not nothing.”

Drake’s button had bounced off the baseboard and flown back toward them; it was lying on the floor nearby. Needing an excuse to avoid Drake’s eyes, Lilah reached down to retrieve it. Unfortunately, Drake dove for it at the same moment. They collided awkwardly and, at his touch, she jumped back as if burned.

“Sorry,” said Drake. His voice still sounded strained. “Sorry.” He straightened, tucking the button into his waistcoat pocket. Lilah dared not look up, but she could feel his eyes on her.

“Miss Chadwick. Lilah.” He cleared his throat again. “Please don’t be alarmed. These things happen.”

Now she lifted her chin and looked at him. Levelly. “Not to me,” she said with dignity.

His cheeks flushed a dull red. “No, of course not. Sorry! I didn’t mean to imply…well, I didn’t mean to imply anything. About you.” His collar appeared to have suddenly grown too tight. “I just meant that, once in a great while, you meet a certain person who…well, what I mean is, not you personally. And not me, actually, until now. But I’ve heard of this sort of thing. One hears of it happening, you know, to other people. People meet people, and…”

Lilah stared at him, mystified, as his voice trailed off. “Drake, what on earth are you talking about?”

Her brisk tone seemed to brace him. He faced her and tried again. “Chemistry,” he said, more firmly. “Animal magnetism. What happened between us wasn’t your fault, and it wasn’t my fault. It was a freak of nature. Like chain lightning, or earthquakes, or the aurora borealis.”

Light dawned. “I see,” said Lilah slowly. “Like…like a shooting star. It flashes across the sky, and then…then it’s gone.”

“That’s right,” he said, appearing relieved. “And afterward, everything is just as it was before.”

Sharp disappointment was stabbing through her. She knew it was irrational to feel disappointed by his attitude. She took a deep breath and reminded herself, with great sternness, that Drake was saying exactly what she had hoped he would say. He was right.

And even if he wasn’t right, it was better to pretend he was. After all, what were the alternatives? Either their kiss had been meaningless, or…it had been important. The implications of their kiss being important were too frightening to face. Why, it would change everything. It would ruin all her plans. The entire course of her life would alter. Was she ready for that? Of course not. She had thought everything through very carefully, and she was going to marry Jonathan Applegate. A quiet man. A predictable man. A man of mild habits and calm temperament. A man who was her opposite, not…not her soulmate.

To strengthen her resolve, she tried to conjure up the face of Jonathan Applegate. She failed. Drake’s overwhelming presence had wiped Jonathan’s image from her brain.

Oh, dear.

Meanwhile, Drake had begun pacing. In his agitation, he raked his hands through his hair. It seemed to be a habit of his. Even when dry, she noted distractedly, his hair immediately sprang up into cowlicks when he did that. It made her want to run her own fingers through the thick, gleaming waves of chestnut, muss them up, smooth them down, feel her fingers slide through—

Good God, what was she thinking? She must stop this lunacy! Her thoughts had taken on a life of their own, flying, willy-nilly, down paths not of her choosing. Paths better left unexplored.

Drake’s brow knitted in a fierce frown of concentration beneath his disordered locks. “I wish to high heaven I had never met you!” he exclaimed. The rudeness of this remark seemed to strike him and he paused, adding, in a milder tone, “Meaning no offense.”

“None taken.” It was an automatic response, but she meant it. “I understand you perfectly,” she added. “I wish the same! But since we have met, and this terrible thing has sprung up between us—magnetism, did you call it? We really must address it somehow.”

He eyed her with misgiving. “Well, I don’t know how,” he said bluntly. “Normally this sort of encounter leads to marriage, but I fancy you don’t care for that idea any more than I do.”

“No, I don’t,” she said fervently. “Please marry Eugenia, and let me marry my Jonathan. You and I would be miserable together.”

“Aye, that we would.” But then his features darkened. “Who the devil is Jonathan?”

Lilah pulled herself up to her full, if diminutive, height. “Jonathan is no concern of yours,” she said stiffly. “Suffice it to say, I have no interest in associating with, let alone marrying, a hot-tempered man like you. I require a peaceable man, a gentle man—”

“A man you can bully.” He gave a rude crack of laughter. “You’re right; I am not that man! And you, I need hardly say, are not the woman for me. We would be at each other’s throats more often than not.”

She glared at him. “I resent your tone, Drake! Are you implying that I would henpeck my husband?”

“Of course you would. I never met a more controlling female.”

“In other words, you never met a woman strong enough to stand up to you,” cried Lilah, bristling. “Heavens, what a wretched life awaits your unfortunate Eugenia! I sincerely pity her.”

“Save your pity for someone who wants it,” ordered Drake, an angry flush reddening his neck. “Eugenia and I never fight about anything, I’ll have you know! She is the perfect woman for me. We are always of one mind.”

Lilah gave a scornful laugh. “Your mind, no doubt! She probably defers to you out of habit, because she’s learned how exhausting it is to oppose you.”

“Which is doubtless the reason why people defer to you! Or hadn’t you thought of that?”

“People don’t defer to me! I am not an all-powerful earl! I know you think I am vain and spoiled—”

“No, just spoiled.”

“—but I am not! It’s simply that I have been blessed with a high degree of—of ability, and more than my share of good ideas. If others let me have my way it is because they honestly agree with me, not because I ride rough-shod over them!”

Drake appeared to be breathing through his teeth. “So you think I ride rough-shod over people?” he snarled.

“Yes, I certainly do!”

“Well, I think the same of you, so one thing is abundantly clear: we must avoid marriage at all costs! Good God, we would brangle day and night!”

Lilah shivered. “Horrible! If we agree on nothing else, my lord, we agree on that.”

“Good.”

They both breathed a little easier. After taking a moment to collect herself, Lilah even managed to smile at Drake. “I am glad you do not feel obligated to propose marriage,” she said archly, trying to lighten the moment. “It would upset my father very much if I spurned an offer from an earl.”

His rare grin flitted briefly across his face. “And I am glad you do not insist upon such nonsense. Any other female would have treated me to a bout of maidenly hysterics. Thank you for sparing me that.”

Her smile warmed with genuine amusement. “You’re welcome. But I’m not such a poor creature.”

“No. That you are not.” Drake’s voice had softened. Dangerously. “You’re no man’s notion of a poor creature.”

Their eyes met across the narrow room. Met, and held. There was a wealth of appreciation in his eyes—and infinite attraction. Lilah felt suddenly dizzy. He was drawing closer, and she could not bring herself to move, or even to look away. Caught in the grip of feelings she feared but could not suppress, she stared helplessly into his eyes and let him approach.

Please don’t kiss me, she begged him silently. Her panic must have shown on her face—and her inability to resist him. He halted, inches from her, and something like pain moved in his eyes. He lifted one hand to trace the edge of her cheekbone. She shivered at his touch.

“You have the most amazing face,” he said, as if to himself. “Strong, yet feminine. Vivid. Your expressions flash and pour like water over pebbles. I could watch this face for hours.” His thumb moved across her cheek and his voice grew unsteady again. “What a pity that we cannot tolerate each other.”

“Yes,” whispered Lilah, giving him a crooked smile. “But we are too alike. Fire cannot marry fire. And neither of us is likely to change.”

His amber eyes darkened. “I cannot touch you without wanting you,” he said hoarsely.

Lilah instantly felt faint with longing. It wasn’t fair for him to say such things. She closed her eyes so the sight of his regretful face would no longer tempt her, and managed to whisper: “Then you must not touch me.”

“Right.” He dropped his hand with obvious reluctance. Lilah opened her eyes and caught him staring at her neckline. “Your lace,” he said, his voice carefully devoid of emotion, “is torn.”

She glanced down. It certainly was. Her left breast was nearly completely exposed where the fragile stuff had fallen away. The lace was now secured at only one corner, near her left shoulder. Drake reached for the lace, his large fingers surprisingly gentle, and pulled it back across her tender flesh. The soft scrape of his fingers against the top of her breast tingled like electricity. Lilah caught her breath.

At first she thought Drake’s fingers were shaking. Then she realized she was trembling. And then she saw that both things were true. Both Drake and she were utterly focused on the sensation of his fingers touching her body. They were oblivious to everything else in the world; nothing existed but his flesh lightly caressing hers. Together, they became completely engrossed in prolonging the delicious moment—and in fighting what it made them feel.

Feeling drugged, Lilah slowly raised her eyes to Drake’s face. They stared into each other eyes. Their lips parted. Their breath quickened. She had never before felt desire for a man. She had never dreamed what power mere attraction could wield. She had not known such complexity of emotion was possible. And then his fingers slid between her breasts as he tucked the lace back into place, and Lilah discovered, beyond doubt, that desire was the strongest force in nature.

Neither Drake nor Lilah heard the door open behind them. They failed to notice the swell of sound from the ballroom. They did not even observe the light flicker and sway as the candles caught the draft from the open door.

But they did hear the outraged voice of Sir Horace Chadwick as he thundered, “What in blue blazes are you two doing?”