Free Mistress by Midnight by Nicola Cornick

her inexperience. The kiss was deep, irresistible, a possession. He slid his tongue into her mouth and felt her give a tiny groan. Garrick felt her heat and her response and for a moment he was so overwhelmed that he almost forgot what he was supposed to be doing. His world narrowed to the woman in his arms, the taste and the scent of her, the need to claim her with a primitive desire that all but shattered his control.
    He pulled himself back from the brink, released her gently and watched as she opened her eyes. They were a deep, unfocused blue. She pressed her fingers to her lips. They looked plush and red and slightly swollen from his kisses. Garrick’s body tightened further. On one level the kiss had not been the wisest move since it had inflamed his already heated desire for her. On another he had achieved exactly what he had set out to do.
    Merryn looked dizzy. Then she blinked the dizziness away and a look of fury came into her eyes.
    “I’ve never been kissed before,” she snapped, “and I certainly didn’t want you to be the first.”
    “I would apologize,” Garrick said, “but that would be dishonest of me.”
    She gave him another look of searing scorn and he watched as she turned and walked smartly away from him, her heels tapping furiously on the marble floor. She went out and closed the door behind her with a sharp snap. Garrick moved across to the window. Presently she appeared again in the courtyard beyond, walking briskly away from the library. She had not replaced her bonnet and the autumn sunlight fell on her silver gilt hair, spinning it into bright, dazzling threads. She was rubbing her head as though it ached. The gesture gave Garrick an odd pang of compassion. She looked very small but upright, dauntless, brave.
    Garrick did not take his eyes from her and after a moment she turned and looked over her shoulder, her gaze picking him out at the window. He saw her footsteps falter. For a second their gazes locked and then she raised her chin and turned smartly on her heel, whisking around the corner of the building and out of his sight.
    “Your grace?” Barnard touched his arm, recalling him to the present. He was looking, Garrick thought, as flustered as a man might when a Duke had had the bad manners to kiss a lady in the King’s Library. “Your grace,” the librarian repeated, red in the face, spluttering. “Is all quite well?”
    “My apologies, Barnard,” Garrick said smoothly. “I did not intend to cause a disturbance.”
    Barnard shook his head. Garrick could tell that the librarian was torn between upbraiding him for his appalling want of conduct and the fear of upsetting one of the premier peers in the realm.
    “It is no matter, your grace,” Barnard spluttered eventually. “I trust there is no problem with the young lady, though? I take it she is a lady? She had impeccable references so I had no hesitation in agreeing to her request for access to the catalog.”
    Garrick almost laughed aloud. Evidently Barnard’s greatest concern was that he might have admitted a woman of ill repute to the King’s Library by mistake.
    “Lady Merryn is a noted bluestocking and most definitely a lady,” Garrick said. “The unfortunate incident—” he cleared his throat “—should not be seen as any reflection upon her moral character or indeed her suitability to be permitted to use the King’s Library. I am afraid—” he tried to look appropriately penitent “—that I have a great admiration for Lady Merryn and in that moment it overwhelmed me. The fault is entirely mine.”
    “Well,” Sir Frederick said, “I trust that it will not happen again, your grace. Such a shocking thing!”
    “Absolutely not,” Garrick said. “My apologies once again.”
    After the librarian, partially mollified, had retreated to his desk, Garrick went across to a quiet table and took a seat. He retrieved the piece of paper he had taken from Merryn’s pocket in the throes of their kiss. He unfolded