Free D2D_Poison or Protect by Gail Carriger Page A

mercy,” he breathed.
    How had he known? She almost jerked away, but now it had become a test of her mettle. She increased the pressure of her fingers. “What does it mean, leannan sìth ?”
    “Fair Folk. Pale from living underground – beautiful, lethal. Occasionally, they send forth a lass so bonnie, she inspires mortal men to greatness or despair. I’m thinking you’re one of them.”
    “Are they powerful?” Preshea stroked a single nail along his neck, as if it were the path of a blade.
    “Verra. They drive most men mad.”
    Preshea felt a funny pang at that statement, but she kept the banter light. She moved her hand then and tried to bracket his neck with it, as if to strangle him. She couldn’t, of course; her hand was too small (with neither the strength nor the span). In fact, it was a less deadly place for her hand to rest, as she could no longer flick out her knife. But to him it would feel more threatening.
    She knew because she felt him swallow again, under her palm.
    “I shall try to keep you sane, Captain Ruthven.”
    “Will you be kissing me now?” he wondered.
    “Should you like it if I did?”
    “Verra much.”
    She stood on her tiptoes and braced one hand on his shoulder, the other on his wide chest.
    He bent down. He had to; even on her toes she wasn’t tall enough. He waited, though, for her to begin. How did he know how much she needed that patience? How important it was for him not to be just another man who wanted to consume her?
    She kissed him. Softly, mouth closed. He kept his closed, too, lips relaxed. He held himself still, as if she were a skittish wild creature who might dash back underground to her fairy kingdom. Ridiculous man .
    She pulled back.
    He did not grab. He did not mash his mouth to hers in an excess of passion.
    It was glorious.
    “Weel, then.” He breathed out the words. His eyes gleamed as he examined her face. She could see it even in the dark, but it was not avarice. It was bubbles of joy, as in a glass of champagne. He was pleased. He liked what she had done.
    Preshea felt oddly proud. An academic achievement, like the first time she had mixed the perfect dose of arsenic. She wanted to give him something as a reward for his restraint, for surprising her.
    “It’s my first kiss, you see? Don’t look so disbelieving. I know what you think – four husbands. I should say instead that it is my first kiss freely given. Thank you for not demanding more.”
    He tilted his head.
    She noticed then that his hands were on her back. Not fierce or rough, simply there, keeping her balanced. Comforting.
    “I shall kiss you again now. To ensure I have the way of it.” Preshea suited her actions to words, reckless with surprise at herself.
    He let her, of course.
    But the of course was not because he wanted her, although there was little doubt of that. She felt it against her stomach as she rested flush against him. No, the of course was because she was beginning to get the impression he would let her do most anything she liked to him. Not because he was frightened of her, but because it was his nature.
    This character flaw was a window of opportunity she should exploit… professionally. But instead, she found herself moving restlessly against him, kissing him deeply – with no ulterior purpose but to find out if his lips really were that soft.
    They were and they parted slightly under hers, an invitation, should she choose to take it. Nothing more – no press of slavering tongue, no pull of hands. He did not even rub his hardness against her, although he must be desperate to do so. All her husbands had.
    She pulled back and, in the spirit of being daring, asked him to explain. “You are not unaffected. Do you hold yourself in check because you think I will fly away like a startled bird? Or are you lazy about this kind of thing and prefer the lady does all the work?”
    She felt his rumble of amusement, for her one hand was pressed against his naked chest. Surprised,