Free Seduced by His Touch by Tracy Anne Warren

must feel being pursued by an experienced hunter. Her heart thudded beneath her breasts, her breath issuing in soft gusts—though with excitement, she realized, not fear.
    Making a random choice, she turned and dashed forward, the pale blue skirt of her India muslin gown floating around her as she ran. The move led her deeper into the labyrinth, drawing her in ever-tightening circles, each one more bewildering than the last.
    Twice, she had to double back, worried every time that she would stumble upon Lord Jack, or he upon her. But as the minutes ticked past, she realized that he must be as mired in confusion as she. She also became aware of the fact that the two of them were completely alone—no hint of other human voices or movement anywhere in the vicinity.
    Finally she sensed she was nearing the center of the maze, her goal barely feet away. But being close to the middle and actually finding it were two different things.
    Turning again, she glided forward, her steps bringing her into a square-shaped section of hedge that functioned as a box. An inescapable box from which there was no exit save the one through which she had come. Trapped, she raced back toward the break in the vegetation.
    She was just passing through when a long male arm emerged seemingly from out of nowhere, coiling like steel around her waist.
    She squealed, the sound reverberating in the air, as she twisted for a moment in Lord Jack’s grasp.
    “Got you!” he exclaimed, triumph plain in his voice.
    “Oh, you scared me!” she said, breathless as she met his gaze. “You’re as silent as a breeze.”
    “And you’re as lithe as a gazelle, slipping from row to row as though you were made of fog. For a few moments, I thought I’d lost track of you.”
    “This is a tricky maze. The center is nearby, though. Shall we both dash to find it?”
    A gleam came into his eyes, along with an expression she’d never seen him wear before. He shook his head, his gaze roaming over her face before lowering to her lips.
    “No,” he murmured in a tone as rough as gravel. “I have what I came to find.”
    She trembled, abruptly aware that he was still holding her against him. Her heart leapt when he reached up and began untying the bow that anchored her bonnet in place.
    “What are you doing, my lord?”
    He smiled. “Claiming a forfeit. I caught you. I believe I deserve a reward.”
    “B-but the game isn’t finished.”
    “You’re right about that,” he mused aloud, lifting her hat from her head. “The game has only just begun.”
    Without giving her time to consider, he tossed her bonnet to the ground, angled his head and kissed her.
    She froze, completely unprepared for the heady sensation of his lips moving against her own. His mouth was surprisingly warm and luxuriously soft; his kiss demanding and persuasive in ways that made gooseflesh pop out all over her skin in spite of the late summer heat.
    On a quivering gulp, she forced herself to break away. “M-my lord, what are you doing?”
    “I believe you asked me that once already,” he remarked. Reaching up, he traced the curve of her ear with his thumb and forefinger. “I should think the answer is obvious.”
    Catching her earlobe between his fingers, he rubbed the nubbin of flesh in a circular motion, then bent to scatter kisses along the column of her neck. Her eyelids fluttered, her toes curling like petals inside her shoes.
    “Y-yes, but I don’t understand why,” she said on a half-gasp. “You d-don’t think of me that way.”
    “Do I not?” he said in a silky tone. “Are you sure?” Moving to her other side, he fanned a line of kisses over her throat.
    “You see me…as a sister.”
    He stopped and lifted his head to meet her gaze. “I assure you, I do not.” His arm tightened around her waist, yanking her flush against the long length of his body. “Now, I ask, does this feel at all brotherly to you?”
    Locked hip to hip, she became aware of an insistent bulge pressing