Scoundrel With A Noble Heart (sequel of Disgraceful)

Chapter 52

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During the course of the evening, Matthew had been very vexed with her, but at the soft press of her lips, his annoyance vanished in a flash. He felt his knees turn to jelly, but then the tentative brush of her warm, moist tongue along the seam of his mouth made him grow hard in some other place. His lips parted to allow her entry, and at the feel of her tongue in his mouth, a guttural sound climbed out of his throat, a cross between a gasp and a moan. She was softer, hotter, sweeter than anything he'd ever tasted. Breaking loose of all his restraint, he devoured her mouth like a parched man who'd just found an oasis in the middle of an endless desert. He'd fantasized about it so many nights, but reality far surpassed the imagination. However, the impact of the kiss began to give him some slight discomfort, because suddenly his breeches were too tight.

For the first time in a long time, he felt a rush of desire, raw and intense, more than he'd ever experienced. He was surprised to find out that a mere kiss could thrill him to this extent. How could he ever think of marrying Maggie? He'd never felt this kind of ardent, passionate desire for Maggie, the almost irresistible urge to touch her, to feel her skin against his. He couldn't even imagine kissing her. His feelings for her were purely platonic. Now he'd experienced this soul stirring sensation, he was ruined for any other woman. He'd known real passion, and he couldn't settle for anything less. Driven by pure instinct, he rested his hand on Arabella's waist and pulled her closer, and she let him ravish her mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck as she sighed her pleasure into his mouth. They were lost in sensation, forgetting about the charade. A collective gasp rose from the targeted audience, then they began to mutter noisily, but at the moment, all other sounds in the world faded to silence and all coherent thoughts fled as Arabella and Matthew let themselves fall into a whirling, maddening sensation.

*****

The first time Marguerite arrived at the house, the imposing facade and the opulence of the interior could hardly impress her, for she'd been too accustomed to luxury at home. One look at the party, the merriment and gaiety, and the colorful crowd fascinated her, but what truly amazed her was the outside grounds filled with fresh air, beautiful flowers, and green, green grass.

Been living within the walls for all her life, Marguerite had never seen anything like this. Alongside the winding gravel path, a bed of roses preceded shrubbery bushes. She walked alone, with Mannheim following several steps behind her. He deliberately put a fairly proper distance between them, to avoid unwanted questions from the guests. She was thankful for that, because his nearness somewhat affected her like metal deflected the magnetic needle of a compass, making her flustered, and as a result she behaved like a shrew. Never had she become so on edge in a man's presence before.

Marguerite shook off the unsettling thoughts and shifted her attention back to her lush surroundings. She looked around her, admiring the breathtaking scenery, until she stumbled upon the spectacle of a fine pair kissing passionately under the arched arbor, oblivious of a crowd of shocked, appalled onlookers by the pond across the lawn.

A moment later, Marguerite stopped dead in her tracks. It took no time for her to identify one of them, because she'd seen him everyday in the last ten years.

And the entire time, he was all she'd ever seen. But it appeared that the same didn't hold true for him.

It felt like a twist of dagger to her heart and every breath seemed to pull the knife a little deeper.