Suddenly Anne felt frightened. She knew she wasn't beautiful or enticing or provocative. Fearing that once Lord Richard saw her pleasant but plain features, he would no longer find her worthy of his attentions, she held up her hand to forestall the removal of her mask.
“Please?” he coaxed.
Honesty won out over curiosity. It had been an exhilarating flirtation, and if it was to end now, then so be it. She grasped the mask between her fingers and slowly pulled it away from her face.
“You are so very lovely, my dear,” he whispered in a deep, strong voice.
Anne suddenly felt weak at the knees.
Richard held her gaze and fought to keep his eyes as blank as his expression. She was not at all as he imagined. Listening to Nigel describe his darling Nicole, he had pictured a tiny woman with a provocative stare and an annoying giggle. Rather like her older sister, the busty Grecian nymph.
But she was none of those things. Intelligent, amusing, even kind. A woman who lived by her wits. He saw immediately how Nigel would be smitten with her, but what could she possibly see in his nephew? He was far too young and spoiled to stimulate the bold Miss Paget.
Lord Mulgrave reached out his hand and gently traced the curves of her face. She wasn't conventionally or strikingly beautiful, but he had been completely honest when he told her she was lovely. She had smooth, flawless skin, expressive light brown eyes, a straight nose, and generous lips on a pretty mouth.
A very pretty mouth. A very pretty enticing mouth. Knowing he shouldn't, yet unable to resist, Richard held her face softly between his fingers, bent his head, and captured her lips in a searing kiss.
He wasn't sure how she would react. He half expected her to push him away and slap his face. After all she was supposed to be in love with Nigel.
He could feel her initial surprise. She stiffened and pulled back for a fraction of a second. He splayed his hand against her back and held her in place, effectively cutting off her retreat. But he did not force himself on her. Instead he waited with mounting desire for her to make the next move.
“I really should not,” she choked out in a harsh whisper.
Frustration surged through him at her words. Tamping down his rioting passion, Richard shifted uncomfortably on the stone bench, resigning himself to accept her appropriate response.
Then, to his utter delight and astonishment she sighed deeply, lifted herself forward, and kissed him back. Without restraint.
She parted her lips slightly, and Richard ran his tongue slowly, sensually, across the seam of her mouth, tasting her sweetness. His heart beat in a wild pulse of need as she softened and molded herself against his chest, clearly aroused by their embrace.
His disappointment over her apparent lack of morals was quickly overshadowed by the incredible sensations streaking through him. Their kiss was an intoxicating blend of pleasure and fascination. The thrust and stroke of his tongue was met with equal fire, and Richard felt the heat and coiling tension rise inside him.
She was incredible! Soft and warm, hot and sweet. Knowing it was wrong, but not caring one wit, Richard tightened his embrace.
“You are truly beautiful.” He whispered the words against her neck before pressing his lips against the white column of her throat.
He set his arms tightly around her, one on her waist, the other on her shoulder. He pushed aside the cumbersome ruff collar around her neck. It crumbled like a deck of cards, revealing the luscious creamy white skin beneath. She was not a voluptuous woman, but her feminine curves easily inflamed his senses.
He trailed a line of soft, wet kisses down to her breasts, expertly drawing down the top of her gown with his thumbs. Her skin felt hot against the moisture of his tongue and he could hear her harsh breathing even though her face was turned down against the top of his head.
By the time the rustling sound of clothing and footsteps approaching registered in Richard's passion-hazed brain, it was too late. His immediate reaction was protective, and almost without thinking he stood abruptly on his feet, thrusting himself in front of the disheveled Miss Paget.
Ian stood before him and alongside the earl was Lady Althen. Their expressions of stunned disbelief informed him that he had in no way concealed the fact that he had been kissing Miss Paget. Rather thoroughly.
“Good evening.” It was difficult to smile with clenched teeth, but somehow Richard managed.
“What in heaven's name is going on here?” Lady Althen exclaimed in a high-pitched squeal. “Anne, are you all right?”
Anne? Richard spun around and glared at the woman on the bench. This delectable creature he had nearly seduced was not Nigel's darling Nicole?
“Gracious, Mother, I am fine,” she replied breathlessly. She struggled momentarily with the neckline of her gown before succeeding in covering her lovely breasts. “Please refrain from becoming hysterical. I don't have any smelling salts with me.”
Lady Althen humphed with annoyance, but her daughter ignored her. Remarkable. She had just been caught in a compromising position with a man she barely knew, yet she was lecturing her parent.
Ian spoke, but Richard was not listening. Anne? He felt his mind spiral into a dark, dizzying vortex. Who the devil was Anne, and where in the hell was Nigel's darling Nicole?