Wicked Wager by Beverley Eikli Read Free Book Online Page B

nothing to be gained other than exposure and ruin should she indulge in this wicked, clandestine meeting just before dinner.
    Unless it was to make clear to him that under no circumstances would she risk her good name by indulging in wicked, clandestine meetings with the presumptuous said viscount, now or in the future. Obviously she’d overstepped all notions of proper behaviour at Vauxhall Gardens, and she needed to ensure he understood she would on no account be up for such adventures again.
    It was that which determined her, for the truth was she was too restless to remain in her dressing room and hope that her failure to materialise would send the required message. No, far better to see the viscount in person and make it clear she was betrothed, she deeply regretted her shameful impropriety, but she could never find herself alone with Lord Peregrine again.
    The trouble was that ten minutes later, beneath the mulberry tree, at the requisite moment, midway through spouting her rehearsed little speech, the deeply interested, smouldering look of that gentleman almost completely undid her. His close proximity made the constriction of her stays almost unbearable, while her throat thickened so much she could barely push out the words, though she tried valiantly enough.
    As she floundered while trying to explain that she could never see him alone again, he considered her words thoughtfully, his long shadow easier for Celeste to focus on than his face, which she now thought the handsomest of any she’d gazed upon.
    â€˜What you’re saying, Miss Rosington, is you allowed your heart to rule your head. That while you are pledged to your cousin, you were swayed by your physical impulses, which is your excuse for kissing me.’
    She knew she must appear like a gaping fish, yet still the rest of the words needed to make sense of her sentence refused to come.
    â€˜Kissing you back , my lord,’ she finally corrected him. ‘I am not in the habit of such rash and inexcusable behaviour. In fact, I have never been so close to any gentleman stranger, alone, in such circumstances.’
    He took a step closer and circled her waist, and though she gasped with surprise, she did not move back. No, she closed her eyes and swayed in his embrace, her mind drinking in his words, delivered in a compelling, husky murmur, as if they were some drug.
    â€˜So despite your nuptials nearly upon you, you are telling me that when I strayed into your orbit you were impelled by impulses beyond your control to seek alternative excitement. Namely, that which I offered?’
    She opened her eyes briefly, signalling a flare of indignation, for he made her sound no better than a strumpet.
    But with his face only inches away from hers, her defences crumbled. With a brief incline of her head she opened her mouth to admit this was exactly the case; and then his lips were on hers, a sweet touch that instantly turned her into a melting puddle of desire.
    Raphael had never kissed her and Celeste knew he never would. So she savoured the moment, surrendering entirely to the soft, teasing touch of his hand that cupped the back of her neck, offering no resistance when the arm about her waist pulled her closer. The feel of his hard chest pressing against her breasts fired off desires she’d never experienced, strong and confusing, coursing through her body which seemed to succumb to an almost mindless, euphoric ecstasy. It was this that galvanised her into pushing him away; this unfamiliar lack of self-control when she had spent a lifetime obeying strictures.
    Her future was arranged. It was only now she realised how foolish and impossible were her ideas of marrying to please her heart. The gorgeous philandering viscount embracing her knew she was to be wed in two weeks. This alone was well nigh the reason he considered himself safe in making up to her. He was certainly not about to declare he couldn’t live without her and make her a