His Wicked Charm. Candace Camp

name?”

      “Very well. Con.” He was making jest of her, as he always did, and yet the sparkle in his eyes, the curve of his lips, made her want to smile back. Made her want to do things that were better left unmentioned. Being with Con was always so unsettling.

      He paused, gazing at her significantly, and after a moment, he nudged, “And may I call you Lilah?”

      “Oh. Yes.” Her name sounded different when he said it, so silky smooth and rich. Whatever was the matter with her? She added tartly, “I am sure you have already.”

      “It’s quite possible. You know how things are in the heat of the moment.” His face was perfectly bland, making her uncertain whether he had meant to convey the double entendre. He went on smoothly, “And you are wrong. I do need to see you home. However unmannerly you think me, I am not ill enough behaved to send a lady off alone at night.”

      “I never said you were unmannerly,” she protested as he handed her up into the vehicle, then swung in to sit down beside her.

      “Did you not?” There was that “Con look” again, so inscrutable, yet somehow conveying laughter bubbling just beneath the surface. Lilah pressed her lips together. “Perhaps I might have. Sometime when you were being particularly outlandish. But I—it was said—”

      “In the heat of the moment?”

      She sent him a dagger glance. “Could you please, for just a few minutes, stop being so provoking?”

      He chuckled. “I think I can.” He leaned forward and took her hand. “I have to tell you how impressive you were this evening.”

      “I was?”

      “Indeed. When I saw you whacking that fellow with a broom, my heart swelled with pride.”

      “Hush.” But she couldn’t hold back a smile. “You’re talking nonsense.”

      “You were a veritable Valkyrie. An Amazon. A warrior goddess come to life.” His face turned serious. “You were a great deal of help today, and I apologize for ever thinking you would be a hindrance.”

      “Constantine…” It was foolish to feel so warmed by his words.

      He leaned closer. “Tell me, Miss Holcutt, would you slap me this time if I kissed you?”

      Lilah’s heart skipped a beat. She should pull away from him. Toss back a sharp set-down for his boldness. But what came from her mouth was only a whispered “No, I wouldn’t slap you.”

      He bent his head, and she closed her eyes, as if she could hide what she was doing from herself. Con’s lips brushed over hers gently…once, twice. She felt his smile against her lips, then his mouth settled onto hers, his arms gliding around her, pulling her to him.

      His kiss was slow and easy and thorough, his tongue stealing into her mouth and setting off a firestorm of pleasurable sensations. It was overwhelming, his kiss as dizzying as the champagne she’d drunk. Lilah was flooded with hunger. Urges she’d never imagined roiled inside her. She had no idea what to do, but she wanted to feel more, have more.

      Lilah wasn’t aware when she had put her hands on his arms, but now she dug her fingers into the cloth, holding on. It seemed like forever, yet it was over all too fast. Con raised his head and stared down at her, his expression caught somewhere between amazement and dismay.

      Then his arms tightened around her, crushing her into him, and he pulled her into his lap. This time his kiss wasn’t easy, wasn’t gentle, but shockingly, Lilah welcomed it. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her lips answered his with abandon. Lilah’s heart slammed in her chest, and her very blood seemed on fire. She felt reckless and wild, utterly unlike herself, and it was glorious.

      Con’s mouth left hers to kiss her cheek, her jaw, her throat. She shivered at the delicate touch on her sensitive skin. Someone moaned softly, and Lilah realized with a start that the sound had come from her. Con kissed his way downward, reaching the hollow of her throat. His tongue teased around the pearl drop there, tracing a circle. Her abdomen flooded with heat.

      Her hands went to his shoulders—whether to hold him off or hold on to him, she wasn’t sure. Right now Lilah wasn’t sure of anything…except the warmth of his mouth, the velvet softness of his lips, the touch of his hands upon her face. All she knew was that she wanted this to go on and on.

      Too soon, Con pulled back, his eyes glittering in the dark, his breath uneven. For a long moment, he simply looked at her. His hands fell away. Clearing his throat, he said, “We’re here.”

      It was only then that Lilah realized the carriage had stopped in front of her aunt’s house. How had they gotten here so quickly? She heard the coachman climbing down from his seat, and she hastily scrambled out of Con’s lap. Seconds later their driver opened the door.

      Lilah bolted out, keeping her head down, afraid of what the servant might see in her face. As Con started to follow her, she turned, holding out her hand as if to ward him off. “No, don’t get out. I—well—good night.”

      She hurried to the door and slipped inside, her legs trembling beneath her. She was careful not to look back.

CHAPTER EIGHT

      BY THE TIME Con returned to the house, the wagon was gone, and he found his family seated around the dining table, polishing off the remains of the hasty meal Smeggars had brought in.

      “Ah, there’s the man of the hour,” Theo said, smiling.

      “Hardly. The ladies had already escaped on their own. All I did was drive them home.”

      “A good bit more than that,” Thisbe protested. “You took care of the men downstairs. It would have been far different if we had had to overcome them, as well.”

      “I had a great deal of help from Lilah—um, Miss Holcutt.” Con turned away, picking up a plate and beginning to fill it with food from the sideboard. “She went after one of them with the carriage whip, then a broom. Tossed a tin full of flour at him, as well.”

      “I wondered why he was covered in white powder,” Olivia said, laughing.

      “I was surprised to see her there,” Thisbe said.

      “She happened to be here at the time.” Con kept his gaze on the dishes of food. “It was nothing, really.”

      “What was nothing? I thought you just said she was very helpful.”

      “She was. I didn’t mean what she did was nothing.” He toyed with the roll on his plate, then added another. “I meant her being here wasn’t unusual. She came to see Olivia. Had a book for her.”

      “Did she?” Olivia’s face lit up. “How nice. She had offered to lend me a book, but it was just in passing. I’m surprised she remembered.”

      “Miss Holcutt remembers everything,” Con said darkly, bringing his plate to the table and sitting down.

      “Goodness, Con, do you mean to eat all of that?” Kyria asked.

      “What? Oh…” Con gazed at his plate in some surprise. “Well, I am hungry.”

      “I am not at all amazed that Lilah joined in,” the duchess said. “I quite like her. She’s a very nice girl, just a bit stiff. I blame her upbringing.”

      “Why?” Con asked. “What’s odd about her upbringing?”

      “Nothing,” his mother replied. “That is the point. She had the same sort of insubstantial education combined with an indoctrination into foolish rules that all young ladies do. It’s a pity that a bright girl such as Lilah was forced into such a constricted position.”

      “I believe she was raised by her aunt,” Kyria added. “Mrs. Summersley seems a nice enough woman, just a bit staid.”

      The duchess pointed at her daughter with her raised fork. “Exactly. Perpetuating