Read Online 'Twas the Night Before Mischief by Nina Rowan - Free Book Online Page A

unable to define the word,” she said, “you must…”
    Let me go?
    Tell my father I don’t want to be Penelope the Paragon anymore?
    Kiss me?
    That last thought made her chest constrict with something beyond simple yearning. Darius had said that yearning was to desire “something unattainable.” Penelope knew to her soul, with every instinct she possessed, that a kiss from Darius Hall was very much within reach. Possibly even closer than either of them knew.
    â€œYou must tell me something about you that no one else knows,” she finally said.
    He arched an eyebrow. “What makes you think I have so many secrets?”
    Penelope smiled. “Are you questioning your ability to define the words I supply?”
    â€œOf course not.” Amusement twinkled in his eyes as he sat back and gave her a nod. “Go on, then.”
    â€œFirst word. Joy .”
    â€œAn intense feeling of pleasure or delight. Or as a verb, to experience the same.”
    Penelope edged a few inches out on the seat. “ Happy .”
    â€œCharacterized by good fortune. Or having a feeling of great pleasure.”
    â€œ Wonder .” She eased a bit closer to him.
    â€œA sense of amazement,” Darius said. “Awe.”
    Penelope moved until she sat on the edge of the seat. “ Ataraxy .”
    He blinked. A surge of triumph filled her.
    â€œ Ataraxy ,” she said, “is a lack of passion of the mind. A stoic indifference.”
    â€œI feel as if I should be personally affronted by that definition.”
    He spoke with such a dry tone that Penelope couldn’t help laughing. “I do find you quite the epitome of the word.”
    â€œBe assured, Miss Darlington, my mind never lacks passion. Nor do other parts of me.”
    A little gasp caught in Penelope’s throat. Darius’s mouth twitched, and even through the dark she could see the amusement in his eyes. She tried to steady the increased beat of her heart.
    â€œI won that round,” she reminded him. “Tell me a secret.”
    â€œThat was the secret.” His voice lowered an octave. “I am filled with passion.”
    The air between them thickened, and in one smooth movement, Darius moved across the space closer to her, his knees touching hers. Penelope couldn’t have retreated even if she wanted to. Which she did not. The confines of the chaise brought them within inches of each other, and she had to tilt her head to look up at him.
    Her very blood seemed to warm at his scent—fresh air, cold sea winds, and… him . A delicious aroma of soap, maleness, the faint smell of smoke. Although she was still sitting, Penelope’s knees went oddly weak. She grabbed hold of the door handle to steady herself.
    â€œI don’t…” She swallowed to ease the sudden dryness of her throat. “I don’t think you’re the one who is supposed to move closer.”
    â€œAnd yet, I am unable to help myself.” He looked at her, his eyes glittering pinpoints of light. “Attraction.”
    Penelope stared at his beautiful mouth, remembering the way it had fit so perfectly against hers. She wanted to feel it again, wanted that thrill of excitement dancing through her veins.
    But despite the way she had reacted when Darius had kissed her at the soiree, her pleasure had been tainted by the fact that she’d been plotting to run away with another man. She’d convinced herself she loved Simon. She’d agreed to spend her life with him. But never had she melted at his touch. Never had he made her feel as if she were floating toward something brilliant and sparkling. Something that might change her life forever and in ways she’d never imagined, if she allowed it to.
    â€œ Attraction ,” she whispered.
    â€œWhen a body pulls to itself, by some force, another to which it is not materially attached,” Darius murmured. He reached out to touch a damp lock of her