Excerpt of The Bride's Bodyguard by Elizabeth Thornton

She should stop him, she knew she should stop him, but she felt as weak as a kitten. She said something--a protest? a plea?--and his mouth was on hers again, and everything Tessa knew about men and their passions was reduced to ashes in the scorching heat of that embrace. Her limbs were shaking, wild tremors shook her body, her blood seemed to ignite. She was clinging to him for support, kissing him back, allowing those bold hands of his to wander at will from her breast to her thigh, taking liberties she knew no decent girl should permit, not even a French girl.

When he left her mouth to kiss her ears, her eyebrows, her cheeks, she got out a shaken whisper, "I never knew it could be like this. You make me feel things I never knew existed, sensations I've never experienced before. You seem so different tonight."

And he did. His body was harder, his shoulders seemed broader, and she hadn't known he was so tall. As for his fragrance--

Then she knew, she knew, and she opened her eyes wide, trying to see his face. It was too dark, but she didn't need a light to know whose arms she was in. He didn't wear cologne as Paul did. He smelled of fresh air and soap and freshly starched linen. Outrage rooted her to the spot, but only for a moment longer. Those clever hands of his had slipped and were beginning to massage her bottom.

"Trevenan!" she gasped, and fairly leaped out of his arms. He made no move to stop her, but said in a laconic tone that grated on her ears, "What a pity. And just when things were beginning to turn interesting."

She was so overcome with rage she could hardly find her voice, and when she did find it, it was high-pitched and unnatural. "Interesting? What you did to me was not interesting. It was depraved."

As he advanced she retreated. Though she felt a leap of alarm, she was too proud to run away. When he halted beside the stone steps, so did she, but she was careful to preserve some space between them. The lights on the terrace had yet to be extinguished, and she had a clear view of his expression. He could hardly keep a straight face.

"Depraved?" he said. "That's not the impression you gave me. I could have sworn you were enjoying yourself. 'I never knew it could be like this,'" he mimicked. "'You make me feel things I never knew existed.'" He began to laugh.

"I thought you were Paul," she shouted. "How dare you impose yourself on me in that hateful way."

He arched one brow. "My dear Miss Lorimer, as I recall, you were the one who imposed yourself on me. I was merely enjoying a quiet smoke when you barged into the gazebo and cornered me. I didn't kiss you. You kissed me." His white teeth gleamed. "Might I give you a word of advice? You're too bold by half. A man likes to be the hunter. Try, if you can, to give the impression that he has cornered you."

The thought that this depraved rake--and he had to be a rake if his kisses were anything to go by--had the gall to give her advice made her temper burn even hotter. She had to unclench her teeth to get the words out. "There is no excuse for your conduct. You knew I thought you were Paul."

"Come now, Miss Lorimer. That trick is as old as Eve."

Anger made her forget her fear, and she took a quick step toward him. "Do you think I'd want your kisses? You're nothing but my grandfather's lackey. You're a secretary, an employee. If I were to tell him what happened here tonight"--she pointed to the gazebo--"he would dismiss you."

"Tell him, by all means. He won't think less of me for acting like any red-blooded male. It's your conduct that will be a disappointment to him." His voice took on a hard edge. "By God, if I had the schooling of you, you'd learn to obey me."