He turned to face her, his consent to her wild proposal quick and intended to shock her to the point of crying off now. "Very well, Regina. Lock the door. We'll start your lessons now."
Chapter Two
Now? Now? It was too soon, too soon. She hadn't thought he would make a move this soon, blast it.
Oh lord, here he came, stalking her as though he was the fox and she was the hare. Wasn't it just like a man to take advantage? He didn't give her a minute to think.
Blast him.
"Jeremy…" Never show weakness, never. Whatever would happen would happen. She was no green girl, after all. She had been kissed. She had made this proposition to him. She knew what she was getting into.
"Exactly what did you have in mind?" Jeremy asked, when he had her backed up against the door and stood but six intimidating inches away from her.
She raised her chin, diving in head first, and knowing she might crash hard against his obdurate arrogance. "Everything."
"Delightful thought," Jeremy murmured, his gaze fixed on her mouth. Everything. She hadn't the faintest idea what everything meant. "And all for your irresistible mystery man. It seems such a waste."
"All," Regina repeated resolutely, mesmerized by the movement of his lips. They were very nice lips, she noted abstractedly, firm and curved, with just the hint of fleshy curve to the lower that made her want to bite it.
What!?
"If we are indeed to have lessons, I must know everything," he said.
She raised her eyes to him, feeling heat flare up between them. What was this? He was too close, that was what. She had to get used to him being this close. And closer still. That was what everything meant. She knew that. She did.
She felt a tremor go through her body. She had asked for this; he had every right to demand some cursory knowledge of her experience if he were going to teach her.
"I daresay you do know everything," she said spiritedly. "But the point is, I know nothing, and why should I be at such a disadvantage when the remedy is at hand."
"Why, indeed? Here is the answer to everything. I have met my destiny, lived all my life in preparation for becoming a remedy."
Now she felt impatient. The thing was as obvious as glass. "My dear Jeremy. Look at it this way: you just gave your ladylove her congé. You cannot be looking for another liaison this soon. You won't get involved. And I've known you all my life. Who would be safer than you, Jeremy?"
"Probably not the person you've known all your life," he said sourly. "You give me too much credit."
"No, I merely want to credit what I must know to deal with a man of experience," Regina said briskly, wishing he would move a step or two back. Jeremy up close was nerve-wracking. Looming. Overwhelming, even.
No. She must get used to this. This was what it was like with a man.
"He will not be easy. And I will be competing with two dozen sweet innocents he will devour like candy. So do let's begin before my father interrupts us."
"Aren't you in a tearing hurry?"
"Jeremy…"
"Oh, I'm perfectly prepared to carry on…" But he wondered if he was. This was not going to be simple. There were no instructions on how to teach the seductive arts while distracting the seductee from the object of that person's desire.
It was going to get complicated. At the very least, he had to convince her that she attracted him, as indeed she might have, were she not someone he had known forever and were he not one and thirty and she twenty. Young, artless heiresses were not his cup of tea. But Marcus Raulton seemingly had acquired a taste for them, and for some ungodly reason, Regina wanted him.
"Well then-carry on," Regina said brusquely.
Time to come to point. He moved a step closer and cupped her cheek. She had the smoothest skin, the bluest eyes, the sweetest mouth. She lifted her head defiantly against his touch, almost as if she were pulling away. But she could not escape him. Subtly he moved closer, simultaneously lowering his head and brushing those soft virginal lips with his own.
It was the barest breath of a kiss; he hovered, waiting, watching her response. Her eyes were closed, her lips curved in a faint smile.
She had been kissed then, at least as much as this. Good. Maybe.
He touched her lips then, imprinting himself there, pulling away in a long, slow movement in which he took her lower lip gently between his teeth.
But not kissed quite as much as that. Her eyes flew open. "Oh…!"
"That," he whispered, "was the kiss of a boy." She swallowed. "Oh." Of course, of course-there had to be more to it, or men wouldn't get so stirred up about the whole thing. Or have mistresses for that matter.
"And this…" He lowered his head again pressing her lips, slipping his tongue between them forcefully, and shocking her to her toes.
What was this-this heat, this wetness, this forbidden invasion-ah! She wrenched away from him, her heart pounding wildly.
"… is the kiss of a man." "Oh!" She rubbed her hand against her mouth. "And the least of what you might expect from a man like Marcus Raulton," he added brutally, just as Reginald pounded on the door.
"Open up, open up…" he sang out. "I've got tea and toast and hot chocolate and cake."
Jeremy stepped back, and Regina sagged against the door for one revealing instant. Then she turned and unlatched the door and held it wide to admit her father and the maid who was pushing the tea cart behind him.
"Here we go. Sustenance for the morning," Reginald said brightly, motioning where the maid was to situate the cart and waving her away. "Have some tea, my boy. Regina, you look slightly flushed."
"Flushed out," Regina said tartly, turning her back on them to pour herself some chocolate, her brains utterly scrambled from just that one overwhelming moment of male domination.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, she castigated herself as she sank into a chair in the farthest corner to examine her feelings. She should stop this right now. She wasn't equipped to handle this-either Jeremy or Marcus Raulton. Oh, especially the likes of Raulton.
She took a deep sip of the chocolate and rimmed her lips with her tongue. Dear God, what kind of kiss was that? She felt like a fool. Ancilla was right: why didn't women know anything? Why wasn't there a tutorial for kisses?
She cast a quick glance at Jeremy, who was sitting in the wing chair and jawing away with her father over inconsequen-tials. Men didn't go all topsy-turvy over a kiss, she thought resentfully, and it made her even more furious. Jeremy was as cool as a cucumber, and she was just as green.
She might just as well get it over with now; confess the whole to the both of them and that would be the end of the game.
She gripped the chocolate cup so tightly, she almost broke it. She just couldn't do it. Looking at the two of them sitting there, Jeremy so smug and unmoved by what to her had been a gross invasion of her person, and her father acting as if nothing had gone on behind closed doors when, in fact, he was probably congratulating himself for engineering it-it made her blood boil.
She could just picture them the day she had overheard them at Sherburne House, toasting the success of their little scheme to have Jeremy pretend to lust after her. High-handed wretches, the two of them.
That memory alone ought to keep her on her course. Jeremy must be punished for his complicity and her father for his presumption, and who cared what indignities she had to suffer.
She would make Jeremy suffer, too. But how-how? What if… Another thought struck her. What if… Could she? In spite of that awful kiss? What if she could make Jeremy fall in love with her?