Bronwyn Scott's Sexy Regency Bundle (49 page)

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a difference here. If I don't build it, someone else will, someone who isn't so concerned with the inequities of factory life.

Someone like Cecil Witherspoon.'

He dropped the curl he'd been winding about his finger and let it fall against her silk-clad breast. He could practically see the wheels turning in her head as she assessed his words. She was calculating, weighing pragmatic reality against the urgings of her heart.
She wanted to trust him. She cared for him.
But scepticism was a difficult opponent to defeat.

'Why are you doing this, Brandon?' The disbelief he sensed was evident in her words.

Brandon watched her. This was not a moment for teasing; this was the moment for reassurances. He could have told her any number of lies. He opted for the truth, even though it exposed his hand, left him open for manipulation if she chose to do so.

'You fire my blood, Nora. Not just your pretty face, but the whole of you, body and soul. Never have I met a woman with such tenacity or such concern for her fellow Your

passions, all of them, stir me in a way I've not been stirred in a long time.'

Brandon bent his mouth to hers, catching it in a gentle so unlike the rough

they'd shared on other occasions.

She pushed against his chest, showing her characteristic stubbornness. His Cat was not easily conquered. But then, any battle worth fighting contained an element of difficulty. 'It's not that easy, Brandon. A few

and a flowery proclama-

tion cannot solve what lies between us .'

'You cannot ignore that we're drawn to each other,' he argued softly, drawing her to her feet and bringing her close enough to nibble at the tender part of her ear.

'I don't know what to believe any more.' She sighed.

'You can believe in me, Nora.' Brandon whet his lips and prepared to lay siege.

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Pickpocket Countess

What if she could believe in what Brandon offered? If they were on the same side of the political spectrum, what other dreams might she dare to give wing? Dare she believe that he might admire her, and that beneath that admiration there might be something more? She would not know if she didn't pursue this thing taking shape between them. It was all she needed to give her desire free reign.

She wound her arms about his neck and invited his lips back to hers. She pressed against him, letting her body say that for which she could not yet brave the words to speak. She tossed back her head and let him trail glorious down her

neck, allowing the vee of her dressing gown to dip open until it revealed more than it concealed of her naked form beneath.

Brandon groaned against her, bending to lave her breasts with his hot tongue, and she

the pleasure was mutual. She

felt his fingers tremble as his hands rose to push back the robe from her shoulders. She let the silk slither into a pool at her feet and she let his eyes feast upon her utterly exposed body.

Standing before him, naked, knowing where they were headed, was infinitely more intimate than the spontaneous act between them a few nights ago. This was premeditated.

She felt no shame in her nakedness, or any coveting lust in Brandon's gaze, although it might have been better for her heart if she had. Instead, the look he gave her was full of sincere reverence. At least, in this moment, she was cherished. With that realisation, all barriers vanished.

'Undress me,' Brandon commanded in a hoarse voice filled with awe.

Nora knew what he asked. This was the point of no return.

If she disrobed him, they would spend the night consummating the relationship in the most intimate, most complete of ways. There could be no excuses of haste and impulsiveness.

This act was deliberate. As such, it could not be brushed off

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as a game, an experiment, come the morning. This act would serve to seal an unspoken contract between them and it would bring with it binding implications.

She held his gaze as if she could signal with her eyes her understanding and acceptance of the significance of what they were about to do. The intensity of his stare indicated he understood as well. And he accepted.

'Undress me, Nora,' he repeated, extending the unwritten contract again. He wanted her and he fully comprehended what the price of wanting her meant.