Free Rogue's Honor by Brenda Hiatt Page B

deliciously. "You're very easy to be kind to.
At first I may have acted out of simple pity, but now that I know .
. . er, know you better, it's more than that. I'd like to help in
any way I can—as you've helped me, and the denizens of this place.
You are a gallant young woman, Purdy."
    His use of her assumed name served as a
much-needed reminder that he knew nothing about her—and that she
knew even less of him. They were from different worlds, and she
would soon be gone from his. There could be no future for their
budding friendship. The realization struck her with a sharp sense
of loss.
    "I simply try to do what's right," she said,
as much to herself as to him. "The world doesn't always make that
easy."
    "Well I know it. Instead, it places barriers
in the way of good intentions." He spoke as though to himself, but
then caught her eye again. "As you have discovered yourself," he
concluded, shaking off his sudden gravity with a smile.
    She nodded. "But our good intentions will
triumph," she said with complete conviction. "They must."
    Something kindled in his deep brown eyes,
capturing her. "Such an idealist," he murmured. "I like that."
    Pearl became suddenly, acutely aware of how
alone they were, here in the close confines of his lodgings, how
near he stood. Not another person in the world knew where they
were. She continued to drown in his gaze, her heart thudding in
slow, heavy strokes.
    "Do you?" Her voice sounded breathless to her
own ears and she felt herself swaying toward him.
    "Very much." The spark in his eyes flamed
into something far more intense, though they held a question, as
well.
    Without stopping to think how inappropriate,
how foolhardy, how—anything—this was, conscious only of her own
need, Pearl tipped her face up for his kiss.
    His lips lowered to hers, first to gently
brush, then to explore and finally to claim. She responded, still
without thought, reveling in his strength, his masculine scent, the
sense of being cherished. Instinctively, her hands sought his
shoulders, while his clasped her waist. His mouth on hers felt like
heaven—like something she'd waited for all her life.
    The one or two kisses a calf-eyed suitor had
stolen in a shadowed alcove when she was seventeen had been nothing
like this. This was real, a kiss between adults—and it stirred a
sharp longing in her for something more.
    As though sensing her longing, he tightened
his grip on her waist, deepening his kiss, then slid one hand
slowly, sensuously up her back until his bare fingers rested at the
sensitive nape of her neck.
    Pearl allowed her own hands to wander as
well, skimming along his broad shoulders and upper arms, then back
up until she threaded her own ungloved fingers through his
disordered dark curls. His slight moan elicited a similar one from
her own throat, a sound she vaguely identified as a growl of
desire.
    Spanning the back of her neck with one hand,
he slid the other back down to her waist, then lower, pulling the
length of her body against his. A bulge in his nether regions
pressed against the very heart of her desire, igniting a need she'd
never known she had—a hot, burning need to become one with this
man.
    When he moved the hand at her nape around to
cup the swell of her breast, it never occurred to her to protest.
Instead, she shifted to give him better access. She tilted her head
back and he trailed kisses down her throat, to the high collar of
her gown, then back to her lips. He released her breast to unfasten
the top button of her bodice.
    A passion like none she'd ever imagined
roared up, threatening to consume her—consume them both. She wanted
this, more than anything she'd ever wanted. This was right. This
was real. This was—
    "I want you, Purdy," he murmured against her
lips.
    The alias was like a splash of cold water,
tempering her ardor with a sudden chill of reality. What on earth
was she doing?
    Though her body thrummed an insistant
protest, she forced herself to pull away from him.