“Take him and go,” his lordship ordered as he lifted up his sword. “I’ve been patient up until now, but my kindness is done.” His tone dropped to menacing. “Go.”
The other two looked at his sword and then down at their compatriot. By some unspoken signal, they dropped down to grab their large companion beneath the arms and began dragging him away. Lilah remained silent, watching as they disappeared into the shadows.
“Are you all right?” Lord Kittrel asked.
She took a breath, her gaze still scanning the shadows. “I am fine,” she murmured in awe. Attacked by three robbers and her only damage was dirt on her hands from the pebbles she’d thrown. “You could have dispatched them immediately,” she said. “Your sword could have done quick work—”
“That’s a messy business,” he said. “And I’ll not gut a man if I can avoid it.”
She took another breath, using the motion to steady her pounding heart. “You lost your purse.”
He shrugged. “A small price to pay for your safety.” Then he stepped out of the doorway and squatted down. He was picking up the coins the large brute had apparently dropped. “Besides, that was my spare purse. And they didn’t get it anyway.”
“Your spare purse?”
“It carries enough money to give to someone who might need it. Or to distract thieves.” He shrugged. “The smart ones take what they get and leave.” He bent down to retrieve his discarded walking stick, quickly piecing them back together.
“But you didn’t have to give them anything. You fought them off so easily.”
He looked back at her. “Even stupid thieves can get lucky. A few coins is nothing to me. Your safety, however, is of grave importance.” He touched her chin. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I was behind you the entire time,” she said, as he held out his arm to her.
“Let’s get away from here. It’s clearly not a safe corner of London.”
It was with him here, she thought. She stepped closer into his side and he allowed it. She wanted to feel the heat from his body and the strength in his arm. “I am protected by Lord Ares himself.”
The gentleman squeezed her arm tight. “I am hardly that, but I am pleased—”
She abruptly pushed up on her toes and pressed her mouth to his. It was an awkward motion, and one that could not have happened if he weren’t looking at her. But he was angled in her direction and she needed to press herself against him. To show him her gratitude and to taste, once again, the glory that was Lord Ares.
He caught her about the waist, no doubt to steady her. Her motions were abrupt, but he didn’t pull away. Indeed, he let her mouth move against his for as much as three seconds before he pulled her tight against him and took control of the kiss.
His tongue invaded her mouth, his arm supported her entire weight, and it felt as if he touched every inch of her inside and out. It wasn’t true, but she reveled in the length of his chest against hers, the balance of their weight on his two very solid legs. What he did with his tongue set her blood on fire.
She wrapped her arms around him, she gripped his coat to pull herself tighter. And when they had to break apart to breathe, she let him kiss across her jaw and to her neck. She even lifted her left knee until it pressed against his thigh as she slid down his body. She went only an inch, but it was enough to burn the feel of his groin.
Her right foot remained on the cobblestones, and she forced herself to hold some of her weight. The rest of her was still wrapped around him. He had found her mouth again and she met him stroke for stroke with her tongue, only to surrender to his thrust.
She wanted this. She wanted him. She had no thought other than that. And if he had the wherewithal to find them a bed, she would have given him everything.
He was the one who stopped. He ripped his mouth from hers and pressed their faces together, temple to temple, cheek to cheek, while his breath came and went in a ragged gasp. Hers did too, but his seemed like a great bellows against her ear.
She wanted to speak. She wanted to apologize or beg or something, but her senses were flooded with the weight of his body against hers, the grip of his arm across her back, and the way her blood rushed and roared through her.
“I’m sorry,” he rasped.
She swallowed and tried to force herself to release him. It didn’t work. “I kissed you.” Now she did tilt her head back so she could look him in the eye. “I want to kiss you more.”
He dropped his forehead to hers. “If I were a man to have a mistress, I would move heaven and earth to have you.”
She winced. “If I were a woman to be a mistress, I would give myself to you right now.”
She felt him shudder at her words. “Do not tempt me.”
“It is the honest truth,” she said. They had just been attacked. He had saved her with the most casual display of strength. Never in her life had any man done so much for her before. Twice, in fact, because she did not forget the drunkards at Vauxhall who had accosted her. He had saved her then as he saved her now, but he was right. Unless she intended to become his mistress now, she needed to pull away. And yet it was so hard to do.
“I’m shaking,” she said more as a statement to herself. She was normally so composed.