The Return of Lady Honoria by Jodi Henley Page B

his fingers on her nipples, he pulled and twisted
at them until her hips rolled violently.
    “Like that, do you?”
    Honoria moaned, rocking her ass up towards
him. She was caught in a frenzy of pain and pleasure.
“ Please , Danton!”
    His mouth traced the length of her calf with
aching tenderness and abruptly captured her lips. Unable to move,
Honoria felt his hand slide between her thighs to her clit. He
pulled the sensitive nub from hiding and clamped it between his
fingers, running his thumb over her engorged flesh hard enough to
make her eyes widen. The wet slap of their joining throbbed behind
her eyes, filling her until his face was the only thing she saw.
Every nerve ending in her body felt like it was lodged between her
thighs.
    Sweat beaded the curve of his cheek as he
pushed them higher and higher, the muscles in his arms standing out
like bands beneath the soft fabric of his sleeves. His thrusts grew
harder and shorter, until he exploded and took her with him,
grinding out his relief in an almost silent, “Damn.”
    *****
    Despite her aunt’s vast wealth, the candles
were guttering by the time Honoria returned to the ball room. Smoke
hung on the perfumed air and made Honoria’s eyes sting. She refused
to think it might be anything more. Danton was gone. She didn’t
delude herself into thinking they’d have more time. He was as easy
to pin down as a jellied eel. Doubtless he’d show up at some other
horribly inconvenient time, but she wasn’t going to waste the rest
of the night thinking about him when he obviously didn’t
give a fig about her .
    She picked through the leftover refreshments,
savagely spearing anything even remotely edible with her fork. He’d
never promised to spend eternity with her or tell her what he did
when they weren’t together. He was free to come and go. She stabbed
her fork into a lobster patty.
    A flash of golden-blond hair at the far end
of the dining room caught her attention. It wasn’t Danton, but that
didn’t stop her from feeling like she’d just been kicked. He wasn’t
just well-endowed; the simple fact was that she liked him.
    Honoria dragged herself and a platter of
prawn loaves into the ballroom where she found a spot close to one
of the open windows. Eugenie danced by, holding on to a
particularly tall and officious-looking man in regimental dress
uniform. Her lips were rouged--the jade! Honoria looked around and
surreptitiously bit hers to make them redder. Despite an equal
share in their grandmother’s vast fortune, her sister was set on an
advantageous marriage. Honoria’s gown was the latest kick, but
Eugenie glittered in cloth of gold like she was dressed in money
and her large, protuberant nose all but disappeared over a collar
of diamonds.
    Honoria put down the platter and fanned
herself vigorously. The drapes were open, but it did little to
dispel the heat from the guttering tapers. She pulled at her bodice
and directed the stream of fast-moving air down the front of her
gown.
    “Lady Honoria Cavanaugh?”
    Honoria looked up—and up. If Robbie was a
handsome god, this was a warrior angel with wicked green eyes and
wavy black hair.
    He smiled at her, revealing a matched set of
dimples. “Your pardon, mademoiselle. I am Michel, duc de Ganelon. I
understand we share a common interest.”
    His introduction was almost as scandalous as
Danton’s, but the hand he used to lift her fingers to his lips was
hard and strong, and the bulge in his breeches was impressive.
    Intrigued despite herself, Honoria swayed in
closer to the Frenchman. “And what interest is that, Monsieur le
duc?”
    The Frenchman held his hand out and Honoria
put her fingers on the back of his wrist. He led her out onto the
terrace. “Voyeurism. I understand you like to watch,” his gaze
swept her body and lingered on the juncture of her legs. “As do
I.”
    Honoria swept her lashes down over her shock.
“I don't know what you mean, monsieur.”
    “Don't play coy, mademoiselle.