Elusive Passion by Kathryn Smith Page A

truthful in her desire to catch Bella’s killer.
    “Bastard!” She clawed viciously at his fingers.
    Tightening his hold on her arm, Miles yanked. She fell against him with a surprised yelp, and her free hand slammed into his chest. He grunted at the impact, but maintained his footing.
    She sneered at him, her body rigid where it touched his. For a moment he half expected her to spit in his face, so foul was her expression.
    The warm fullness of her breasts pressed against his torso. He wondered if she could feel his heart pounding against his ribs through the layers of clothing that separated them.
    Miles smiled. He was tired of all this arguing. Hewas tired of pretending she didn’t affect him. “There’s so much fire in you, Varya. I think you are one of the most intriguing females I have ever met.”
    She continued to watch him warily, but some of the stiffness left her body. She seemed to be at a loss for words, something that surprised him.
    “If you hadn’t been forced into this farce of ours by circumstance,” he began, his voice sounding strange and husky to his own ears, “would you have chosen me over all the others as you told Carny you had?” As he spoke them, the words astonished him. What was he doing?
    He relaxed his hold on her arm, and as she withdrew it, peeled off her glove to bare the flesh underneath. The bruises he had given the night of their struggle were dark against her pale skin.
    “I’m sorry for this,” he murmured, balling the silk in his fist. “Does it hurt?”
    “A little.”
    He brought her hand to his lips, planting feathery kisses along the sensitive flesh on the inside of her wrist, up to her palm. She gasped softly. He nipped gently at the tip of each finger, savoring the salty-sweetness of her skin.
    He released her, and his hand came up to caress her cheek. He gazed down at her, searching for any indication that she wanted him as desperately as he wanted her. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. So she wasn’t immune to him after all.
    “Would you have chosen me, Varya?” he asked again, plucking a rose from the trellis. He brushed hislips against her forehead, her temple, and the soft skin of her cheek, trailing the petals of the rose along her throat, down to the expanse of creamy flesh revealed by the neckline of her gown. “Would you?”
    Without waiting for her reply, his lips claimed hers. Her mouth opened and he could taste champagne on her breath.
    She didn’t try to fight him. Her free hand gripped the lapel of his coat as if to pull him closer. Her tongue met his as it slipped past her lips. His heart leaped traitorously within his chest, and Miles knew that he would soon be lost.
    Reluctantly, he let her go. Taking a step back, he studied her flushed face as he fought the urges that threatened to consume him. Her lips were moist and red; her nostrils flared with every panting breath. She seemed to have difficulty pulling herself together. Good . Lord knew he wouldn’t be able to reenter the ballroom until a certain part of his anatomy righted itself.
    She opened her eyes, but instead of desire in their dark blue depths, he saw a raw vulnerability that frightened him. She looked like a woman going to meet her executioner rather than one succumbing to passion. He reached for her.
    “No!” she cried, jerking back from his grasp. “No, I wouldn’t have chosen you!”
    “You lie,” he chided gently, his fingers brushing her cheek.
    Varya pulled away from him as if his touch burned. Her eyes were wide and wild against the pallor of her face.
    “You mustn’t ask me such questions,” she whispered hoarsely. “Please do not ask me again.”
    With that, she turned and fled down the steps into the garden and into the darkness without a backward glance.
    Miles stared after her, stunned by her behavior. Why had she so fervently denied her desire for him? He had felt it, as hot and consuming as his