kiss you!’ Constance’s cheeks flamed. ‘Not that I meant— That is I would not dare— I mean, it would be highly inappropriate, given that I hardly know you. And even if I did know you, I am not in the habit of bestowing kisses on any man—and even if I was, well, I ought not to kiss you now that I am betrothed. So there’s no need to look as if you...’
‘As if I want you to kiss me,’ Kadar said.
‘What?’
‘I don’t know what my expression was, but what I was thinking was that I would, notwithstanding all the perfectly valid reasons you have given why you shouldn’t, like you to kiss me. And would very much like to kiss you back.’
Constance looked every bit as surprised as he by this admission. He should not have said it, but he had, and it was true. He wanted to do a great deal more than kiss her, and he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about just what that entailed, in all its delicious detail, since her arrival last night. But if she was going to be here at the palace for the next three months, he’d have to find a way of ensuring that he did not kiss her, so Kadar said the one thing he was certain would make it impossible for either of them to act on their impulses.
‘But I can’t kiss you. It would be, in your own words, highly inappropriate since I too am betrothed.’
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