pressed to hers, pulsing with life.
She’d not imagined a kiss could be so full-bodied, that it could make a person feel immortal, as though they could take on the world, do anything. Now that she knew, she wanted to feel that way again and again. Her arms were about his neck, holding him close, her hands in his long dark hair, the hair her father hated and had offered to have his valet cut. She was glad Liam had refused. She loved Liam’s hair, loved dragging her hands through it, anchoring her fingers in it as he took her mouth.
His hips moved against her in honest suggestion, the hardness of him evident through breeches and skirts. There was no reason to hide anything they felt from one another, not their feelings, not their bodies. They were one in this burning, consuming passion that made life so much brighter—that brought the edges of slow, lazy summer days into sharper relief. Her hand dropped between them to the source of his hardness, tracing it through his breeches, cupping it in her hand until he groaned.
‘If you keep that up, May, you’ll bring me off in my trousers.’ His mouth was at her neck, his breath coming hard between his words.
She was powerful and coy in her response. ‘I’d like to do that.’ She laughed. He bit her neck in playful retaliation and she yelped.
‘And I’d like to bite you some more, but we don’t dare leave any marks your father will see,’ Liam cautioned with a wicked smile before stealing a short kiss from her lips. ‘One more kiss, May, and then we have to go. The others will be looking for us.’ Only Preston had seen them slip away from the picnic. Her father had settled into a post-picnic nap and her mother and the neighbour’s wife had wandered down to the lake.
‘Only one more?’ Her arms were back around his neck, her tone teasing and light. ‘Make it a good one, then.’ She cocked her head, her tone slightly more serious. ‘Or maybe I should? This time, let me kiss you.’
Liam gave a throaty chuckle. ‘I thought that’s what you had been doing.’
She dropped half-lidded eyes to his mouth. ‘You know what I mean. Let me start it this time. I want to kiss you.’ She brushed her mouth across his, slowly at first, letting her tongue trace the contours of his lips, coaxing his mouth to open. They’d got much better at this since that first kiss in the stables. She liked this slow, languorous kissing as much as she liked the heated madness of the others, the sensual exploration of being in his mouth, of tasting the sweet remnants of lemonade on his tongue. She let her mouth say all the things she didn’t have words for yet in this new heady world of Liam Casek and stolen kisses. Forbidden kisses.
May was not oblivious. If there was one blight in May’s perfect world it was that this had to be hidden. Her father could never know about this. He tolerated Preston bringing this friend along. He even understood this was an opportunity to do some good for a young man with potential who’d been born into poverty. However, he would never condone that young man kissing his daughter, no matter how much potential he had and heaven forbid he find out his daughter had put her hand on an Irishman. She was meant for far greater men...
In retrospect, the beginning had been quite nearly the end as well. Maybe there had never been any hope, their passion ill fated from the start, only they’d been too naïve to see it. But for a while the illusion had been nice. More than nice. There were still nights when she lay awake, wanting to feel that way again, free and immortal, even knowing those feelings were part of an illusion, part of something unsustainable. In the end, he had left her.
Liam brought the horse to a halt in front of the cottage and leapt off, taking her perfunctorily by the waist to help her down. There was no boyish exuberance on his part and there was no grabbing of his hand and dragging him off for a kiss on hers, further proof the wounds they’d given one another had been deep and lasting.
‘I need to check on Beatrice and get supper started or we won’t eat until nine o’clock,’ May excused herself and hurried inside. Those wounds would never go away. They were scabbed over, a thick outer layer of protection. But scabs could be picked, if they weren’t careful, and those wounds could be exposed. The wisest course of action here would be to tread carefully. The afternoon had shown her that much.
Being close to him had conjured up memories best left undisturbed and, oh, how easily they’d been conjured! It was as if they lay just beneath the surface instead of buried deep down. May tied on her apron and reached determinedly for the round of bread dough. She gave it a thorough punch and began kneading. If she was going to survive the next two months, avoidance would be her best policy.
That night he dreamed of her. He couldn’t avoid her, not even in his sleep. A mental flashback come to life: May with her hair down, her face shining with mischief, her features softer and more innocent than they were now, before the world had disappointed her for the first time. Or perhaps it was only he who had disappointed her? In the dream, it didn’t matter. The dream was before all of that...
She was tugging him, half-running, half-walking, down the wide aisle of Worth’s summer stables, dust motes dancing in the shafts of sunlight as she laughed over her shoulder. There was something she wanted to show him and apparently it was at the back of the stable—the immaculate stable—Liam noted. There wasn’t a single errant stick of straw about the place. Of course not. Worth hired a boy just for that purpose. Liam caught sight of a young boy with a broom in hand out of the corner of his eye as he and May ducked around a dark corner to her destination.
May leaned against the wall, looking up at him with her dancing eyes. Good lord, those eyes were going to be the undoing of him. They made him want things he had no right to want. ‘I envy him.’ Liam jerked his head towards the sweeping boy moving away from them with his rhythmic push and glide of broom against floor.
‘I don’t,’ May answered bluntly. ‘Doing the same thing every day.’ She shuddered her distaste. And why wouldn’t she? She had access to so much more. ‘He sweeps all day, every day. How boring is that?’ If there was one thing May Worth despised, it was being bored. Preston’s sister was a wild handful. She’d dogged their steps since their arrival, riding with them, fishing, even swimming although he was fairly sure her parents hadn’t known she’d come along.
Liam leaned an arm against the wall just over her head, suddenly aware of how close they were to one another and how alone. ‘I think he’s quite lucky. I’ve done much worse than sweep for a fraction of what he receives in return.’
‘What he receives?’ May queried with an interested cock of her head. ‘A few pennies?’
Liam chuckled. ‘Oh, May, he gets more than pennies from this. He gets good clothes, a warm place to sleep, three meals a day and, yes, a few pennies in his pocket. Then there’s his future and he gets that here, too. He’s not just sweeping. He’s learning about the stables every day, learning the care of horses simply by being around them. He’ll move up the ranks when he’s of age. He won’t sweep for ever. He’ll be a groom. If he reaches high enough, he could be master of horse eventually. He’ll be able to tell his bride he has an honourable, reliable living they can raise a family on. He can build his whole life from this. He’ll never need to worry.’
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
