"No respect for the dead." His words came out in silent whispers, his teeth clenched.
A small smile tugged on her lips. "Respect is earned in life, my lord. When a man fails to earn respect in life, it cannot suddenly be bestowed on him simply becau...
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Noah was a fool.
Even as his lips connected with Lady Atkins's and his arms wrapped around her, he saw his folly. But folly proved insufficient a reason to deter him from kissing her, neither was it enough to stop him from deriving great pleasure in the kiss. He found pleasure in the strength of her fingers as they clawed at his lapels; the gentility of her lips as they explored his lips; the softness of her frame pressed against his.
All Noah wanted to do was close his eyes and get lost in her kiss. But that would prove impossible, for as quickly as he had kissed her, he was reminded of his folly when he heard the door opening.
He should never have kissed her—he mentally cursed himself, turning stiffly to the door where nearly every member of England's aristocracy stood watching the unlikely couple with open scorn. Hell, he should never have returned to London after concluding his business over a month ago.
Lady Atkins plagued him. It was thoughts of her, lying still on the bed, clad in that seductive nightdress that prompted his return. For some maddening reason, he needed to see her. Absolutely needed to be near her. Perhaps it was that same madness that made it impossible for Noah to take his eyes off of her when he spotted her in the ball earlier.
Barely recognizable, she was a ravishing vision in red. A month proved to have been enough to cause her to gain some favorable weight, and that low-cut scandalous neckline of her dress made it impossible for every gentleman in the room to keep his eyes off of her—one of which was openly flirting with her.
Noah told himself it wasn't his concern what Oliver's widow did with a gentleman. But the more he tried to ignore them, the more their merry laughter drifted to him until he was fighting to keep his fists from smashing a vase in anger.
Keeping his angry gaze on Lady Atkins, whose open flirtation with another man nearly drove Noah mad, he watched her slip out of the crowded ballroom, with the gentleman following suit soon after.
Disgusted by their lack of discretion, Noah followed behind. He wasn't as shocked to find them on that couch kissing as he was shocked at his reaction to the scene; jealousy.
He was jealous, so dangerously so that as he yanked the vile gentleman off of Lady Atkins, it had taken all of his willpower not to go after him and punch him in the face.
Noah felt a sense of possessiveness, one he desperately needed to walk off as he paced the length of the room. He fought to convince himself that Lady Atkins didn't belong to him, that he had no business feeling this way! But common sense be damned, for Noah indeed felt this way, and even more so when he kissed her...
... Until they were caught, and he was forced back to reality. He was reminded that Lady Atkins was not his to possess and kissing her was a crime against propriety.
"A little show of discretion, Lord Camden!" Lord Stephen, the host scolded before slamming the door shut.
Releasing a breath, Noah ran his shaky hand through his hair. What in Hades had he done?! He should never have kissed her and knowing he owed her an apology—even if it would prove useless to the damage he had caused—he turned around stiffly.
