at the base of her neck leap at the words, the hardness in her eyes soften, curiosity replacing the doubt whether she willed it or not. He let his eyes catch hers, then drop to linger on the fullness of her mouth before he drew her to him, whispering, ‘Let me show you the possibilities’, a most seductive invitation to sin.
* * *
Alixe knew she was going to accept. He was going to kiss her and she was going to let him. She could no more stop herself than she could hold back the tides on the beach below them. There was only a moment to acknowledge the act before she was in his arms, his mouth covering hers, warm and insistent that she join him in this. He would not tolerate false resistance and, frankly, she did not want to give it. His tongue brushed her lips. She opened, instinctively parting her lips, giving him access to her mouth, kissing him back with all the enthusiasm her limited skill in this area permitted.
She felt his hand at her nape, his fingers in her hair, guiding her ever so gently into the kiss, his other hand at her back, guiding her not into him precisely, but against him. The planes and ridges of him were evident beneath his clothes: the structured hardness of his chest, the muscled pressure of his thighs. She had seen all this at the pond, of course, but to feel it, ah, to feel a man was heady indeed.
It ended all too soon. Merrick drew back, murmuring, ‘My dear, I fear you tempt me to indiscretion.’ He stepped backwards, putting a subtle distance between them, his eyes soft with a look that warmed her to the toes of her half-boots and made her feel bold beyond her usual measure of cautious restraint.
‘Surely a little temptation is tolerable? It is just a kiss, after all,’ Alixe flirted, stepping forwards—perhaps this time she’d kiss him. Her intentions must have been obvious.
Merrick side-stepped her efforts. ‘Careful, minx. There are those who would take advantage of your enthusiasm for the art. With the gentlemen of London, you’d do best to let them do the pursuing and to be discriminate in bestowing your favours. The rarer a treasure is, the more sought after it becomes.’
Alixe turned sharply, presenting Merrick with her back. She flushed, furious and embarrassed. She’d let herself get carried away. She’d let herself believe they were two people caught up in the beauty of the moment, the kiss a celebration of having shared the stunning vista together. It was no use. No matter how she tried to rationalise it, it sounded like nonsense even in her head. The point was, she’d got carried away and pretended the kiss was something more than it was, which obviously it wasn’t. He was unperturbed by what had transpired while she was all too worked up.
She wasn’t ready to turn around and face him yet, but she could see him in her mind’s eye leaning with easy grace against the rock wall of the ruins, letting the breeze ruffle through his hair. At least he could be angry.
‘Alixe, look at me.’
‘Don’t you dare be nice and say something pithy.’
‘I wasn’t going to.’
She could hear him pushing off the wall and crossing the villa floor, pebbles crunching beneath his boots. She blew out a breath. She wanted to vanish, wanted the cliff to swallow her up, embarrassment and all.
‘What I was going to say, Alixe, is that if you want to kiss a man, you need to know how.’
Oh. That made it better. ‘Just for the record, you’re not boosting my confidence.’ The best kiss she’d ever had and it was entirely juvenile to him, probably no better than the sloppy work of a three year old.
He was standing behind her. She could feel the heat of his body. She couldn’t put off facing him any longer. She turned, trying very hard to look irritated instead of mortified. Her eyes darted everywhere in an attempt to avoid looking at him directly. He would have none of it. After a few futile seconds of looking past his shoulder, he gently imprisoned her chin with his thumb and forefinger.
‘Look at me, Alixe. There’s nothing wrong with your kiss, just your approach. You need finesse. Your suitors will want to feel this was all their doing. You can initiate the kiss as long as they think it was their idea. Here, let me show you.’
That was a dangerous phrase. Alixe made to move backwards, but he captured her hand and continued smoothly with his instructions. ‘Touch your gentleman on the sleeve. Make it look like a natural act during conversation. Lean forwards and laugh a little at something he says when you do it. That way it looks spontaneous and sincere. Then, flirt with your eyes. Give him a little smile and look down as if you hadn’t meant to get caught staring. Later, when you’re walking in the garden, let your gaze linger on his lips a bit. Make sure he catches you at it. You can shyly bite your lip and look away quickly. If he’s any sort of man at all, he’ll stop within the next ten feet and steal a kiss. When he does stop, you can close the deal by parting your lips, a sure sign that his affections will be welcomed.
‘I should have brought paper for notes,’ Alixe mumbled. ‘I was not expecting a treatise.’
‘Now that’s a fine idea. Perhaps I should write a book on kissing as a noble art.’ Merrick laughed.
Unfazed by her reticence, he pushed on. ‘Now you try it. I already know it works. Sit there and I’ll pretend I’ve brought you some punch.’ Merrick gestured to a rounded boulder.
‘This is silly,’ Alixe protested, but she did it any way.
‘I’ve heard the very best bit of news while I was at the refreshment table,’ Merrick began their faux conversation.
‘Oh, you have?’ Alixe widened her eyes in simulated interest.
‘Yes. I heard that the Cow is about to run away with the Spoon,’ Merrick said in his best conspiratorial whisper.
‘Isn’t the Dish supposed to run away with the spoon?’ Alixe corrected.
Merrick didn’t so much as blink over his error. He leaned closer, a wicked grin taking his elegant mouth. ‘I do believe it is. That’s why my “news” is so astonishing. It’s entirely unexpected.’
Uncontainable laughter surged up inside her. Before she knew it, she was leaning forwards, her hand on his forearm in gentle camaraderie. ‘Oh, do tell,’ she managed in gasps between bouts of laughing.
‘Well, I heard it from the Cat who heard it from the Fiddle...’ Merrick was struggling against losing his composure entirely. It was a fascinating battle to watch on his expressive face—mock seriousness warring futilely with the hilarity of their conversation. In that moment it was all too easy to forget who he was, who she was, as they had in the library.
Alixe’s eyes dropped to his mouth with its aristocratically thin upper lip. Merrick’s eyes followed her down, his head tilting to capture her lips in a gentle buss. He sucked lightly at her lower lip, sending a pool of warm heat to her belly. This slow, lingering kiss carried an entirely different thrill. There was sweetness in its tender qualities. She wanted to fall into it, wanted to feel it turn into something more passionate. She’d never guessed kissing could be such a lovely pastime.
‘That’s how you know you did it right. The proof is in the pudding. Top marks,’ he whispered playfully. ‘You’re an apt pupil. Keep this up and we’ll have London at your feet in no time.’
The words were said in jest and perhaps reassurance, but Alixe could not take them that way. How had it become this easy to forget what this man was? He was a flirt. No, he was more than a flirt. He was a consummate seducer of women.
