Her evident discomfort made the earl ask, in all seriousness, “I did not hurt you, did I?”
Miss Tarabotti cocked her head to one side and raised an eyebrow at him. “I mean, when I attacked you just now, in wolf form? We werewolves do not remember much that happens during the full moon, you see. It is all embarrassingly instinctual,” he admitted.
Miss Tarabotti patted him reassuringly. “I think you realized, almost despite yourself, that it was me you nearly killed.”
“I smelled you,” he admitted gruffly. “It sparked off a whole different set of instincts. I do remember being very confused, but not much else.”
“What kind of different instincts?” Miss Tarabotti asked archly. She knew she was treading dangerous ground, but for some reason she could not resist encouraging him. She wanted to hear him say it. She wondered at what time she had become such a hardened flirt. Well, she reasoned, one must get something from one’s mother’s side of the family.
“Mmm. The reproductive variety.” The earl began to nibble her neck with wholly concentrated interest.
Miss Tarabotti's innards turned toward a feel of mashed potatoes. Fighting her own urge to nibble back, she pinched him again, harder this time.
“Ow! Stop that!” He left off nibbling and glared at her. It was a funny thing to see such an expression of wounded dignity on the face of such an enormous and highly dangerous man—even if he was naked.
Alexia said practically, “We have no time for such monkeyshines. We must determine a way out of this predicament. We have to rescue Lord Akeldama, and we absolutely must close this wretched club down. Your amorous intentions are not currently part of the agenda.”
“Is there a way they might become so, in the not-too-distant future?” Lord Maccon asked meekly, shifting against her in a manner that ensured she realized the nibbling had affected his outsides just as much as her insides. Alexia was partly shocked, partly intrigued by the idea that as he was naked, she might actually get to see what he looked like. She had seen sketches of the nude male, of course, for purely technical purposes. She was given to wonder if werewolves were anatomically bigger in certain areas. Of course, she was touching Lord Maccon, so such supernatural traits ought rightly to be canceled out, but in the interest of scientific curiosity, she shifted her lower body away from him a handbreadth and peeked downward. She was thwarted by the material of her own skirt wadded between them.
Taking her movement as withdrawal rather than curiosity, the earl pulled her back against him possessively. He slid one leg between her two, trying to shift multiple skirts and petticoats out of his way.
Miss Tarabotti sighed in long-suffering style.
He returned to nibbling and then nipping and kissing softly up and down the entire column of her throat. This was causing most distractingly invigorating frissons of sensation up and down her sides, over her ribs, and toward her nether regions. It was almost uncomfortable, as though her skin itched from underneath.
Also, due to his unclothed state. Alexia was learning ever more about the veracity of some of those sketches. Still, her father's books had not entirely done the situation justice. Lord Maccon slid one hand up into her hair.
So much for tying it back, thought Alexia as he loosed it from her hard-won ribbon. The earl tugged at the black tresses, pulling her head back so as to more fully expose her neck to his lips and teeth.
Miss Tarabotti decided that there was something excruciatingly erotic about being fully dressed with a large naked man pressed against her from breast to foot.
Since she had not been able to see for herself exactly what the earl's frontal area looked like, Alexia decided to try the next best thing and began to work her hand around to touch. She was not entirely sure this was the kind of action a young lady undertook in such situations, but then again, most young ladies did not get themselves into them to start with. In for a penny, in for a pound, she decided. Miss Tarabotti always was one to seize the moment. So she seized.
Lord Maccon, and the certain portion of his anatomy now firmly in her grasp, jerked violently.
Miss Tarabotti let go. “Oops,” she said. “Should I not have?” She trailed off, humiliated.
He hastened to reassure her. “Oh no, you most certainly should. It was simply unexpected.” He pressed up against her receptively.
Embarrassed but more curious than anything else, purely scientifically, mind you, Alexia continued her explorations, a little more tenderly this time. His skin in that area was very soft, and there was hair nested at the base. He produced the most delicious noises under her tentative touch. She became increasingly intrigued but was also getting more and more concerned with the logistics of any further proceedings.
“Um, Lord Maccon?” she said finally in a cautious whisper.
The earl laughed. “No choice at this point, Alexia; you simply must call me Conall.”
She swallowed. He could feel the movement under his lips.
“Conall, aren't we getting a tad carried away given the circumstances?”
The earl pulled her head back so he could look her directly in the eyes. “What are you blathering on about now, you impossible female?” His tawny eyes were glazed with passion, and he was breathing hard. Alexia was shocked to discover her own breathing was far from relaxed.
She scrunched up her forehead, trying to find the right words. “Well, should we not be abed for this kind of sport? Plus, they are scheduled to return at any moment.”
“They? Who?” He was clearly falling behind the conversation.