before you further crush my vanity underfoot.’
‘I am not... It is merely that it seems a little silly. I mean, the gossip columnists hint you have dozens of mistresses, why would you wish for a kiss from me?’
‘I’m beginning to wonder that myself. Do you know you are the most aggravating woman...girl...whatever... I have ever met? Goodbye, Miss Silverdale.’
‘Wait.’
Despite his better judgement he paused at the door. ‘What now, Miss Silverdale?’
‘Did you really wish to kiss me?’ She looked so confused his impatience waned. His frustration on the other hand...
‘I do, but it was extremely foolish of me to make that suggestion. I am well aware that despite your Spinner Street fantasies you are a respectable young woman and one with a dislike of being...approached. That much was evident by your martyr’s stance when Payton’s son did no more than tickle your cheek.’
She pressed her hands to her cheeks.
‘It isn’t that I... I never did until...’
Anger bubbled up in him at this confirmation of his suspicion. He wondered what clumsy fool had left his mark on her. It probably wasn’t the boring Payton boy, she seemed quite fond of him and the kiss they exchanged had been as unthreatening as being accosted with a daisy. Still, it was all the more reason to leave now. She wasn’t his responsibility.
‘Someone hurt you.’
Her mouth thinned.
‘Someone lied to me and used me and that hurt most of all, but he never... It hardly matters, it is in the past. But you are wrong about Colin. I didn’t wish for him to kiss me because he would then read into that single kiss a hundred things I am not ready for and I would once again find myself in a corner, with no choices that reflect my own wishes. This is different; you don’t want anything from me but a kiss and I am still not quite certain why you want even that. Do you understand?’
He refrained from correcting her that what he wanted went quite a bit beyond a mere kiss.
‘I think I do.’
She smiled, her eyes narrowing, more honey than green. They were speculative now and he remembered how she inspected him that first day in the church—even though she had been tense and afraid, there was that same assessing gaze, measuring his worth.
‘May we try, then?’
‘Try what?’ He was rapidly losing control of the situation. She could not possibly mean...
‘Kissing. I cannot bear the thought that every time I think of it I must think of...him. When Henry died I decided that perfidious wretch had affected my life far too much. So perhaps this is a good idea. I wish to take his power away and I may not have such an opportunity again. After all, I know I can trust you not to tattle. I’m a little worried, though. What if I do hate it? Do you think you could contrive to be convincing?’
Only a madman would pick up that hand with the cards so absolutely stacked against him. He might on occasion be a little reckless, though certainly less than society imagined, but he never...
‘I could try.’
‘Good. Thank you.’
She straightened resolutely, shoulders back. Her cheeks were still flushed, but the animation was fading from her features and she looked as she had in the church waiting for that young man to kiss her.
Contrarily it was the anxiety behind the determination that held him there. It made no sense for someone as intensely passionate as she to react with such a mixture of resolution and fear to a mere kiss. He wasn’t certain if he agreed with her experimentation analogy, but it struck him that, his own undeniable interest aside, to spurn her request now would be to add insult to injury. He would just have to be very, very careful. He was well served that his foolish impulse to satisfy his curiosity by bartering for a quick kiss had landed him in such hot water. That would teach his impulses not to escape their fetters again in future.
He raised her chin gently and her lips tensed, pressing together hard.
‘Relax, I will not kiss you yet.’
Her eyes flickered up to his.
‘You won’t?’
‘I will tell you before I do and, if you wish me not to, you have only to say so. Now close your eyes.’
‘Why?’
He sighed. ‘Just trust me. I promise I will not kiss you without asking first. Now close your eyes.’
She obeyed, frowning, and he touched her cheek, moving his fingers lightly over her cheekbone to where a downy wave of brown hair curled over the tip of her ear. He brushed his thumb over its warmth, easing it back from her temple with soft stroking motions, his hand moulding to the curve of her jaw as he tucked it behind her ear. Her shoulder rose a fraction and he watched the flickering of her lashes, surprisingly dark and long, the shifting of her brows as they moved in and out of a frown as if trying to hear something far away.
He kept his touch light and soothing as his fingers explored the contours of her face, wondered what she was thinking. Whether despite her determination to master her thoughts and reactions she was cringing inside, linking his touch with memories of pain and humiliation.
‘Is it terrible?’ he whispered. ‘Shall I stop?’
Her brows twitched again, but she didn’t open her eyes or speak, just shook her head. It was hardly an accolade to his appeal, but it did quite a bit of damage, relief flowing through him more potently than her brandy, and he couldn’t stop his gaze from settling on her mouth or his head sinking towards hers. So he closed his own eyes and concentrated on touch. On the slide of his fingers over the curve of her ear, her neck, on to the hard ridge of her collarbone and the sweep of her shoulder, then back up again.
Without seeing them there were revelations on the journey. The lobe of her ear was softer than any he had ever felt, so much so he had to feel it again, brushing his palm against it and barely controlling the shudder that rushed up his arms to join the building agony in the rest of his body. Then there was her collarbone. He had noticed it before with the eye of a connoisseur who could appreciate architectural highlights, but under his fingers it was combination of hard lines and velvety skin; it drew his fingers along its definite sweep and made his body imagine her hands touching him in a mirror image of his caresses, sending tingling sensations over his chest to join the rising heat below.
His hands itched to go lower so he made them rise again, rewarding them by touching that impossibly soft skin beneath her ear where her pulse was fluttering as swiftly as his, then moving gently along her jaw and cheeks, resisting the urge to touch her mouth with every ounce of his control. He couldn’t remember the last time he had either touched a woman so innocently or been swamped by such mind-numbing need. He gathered his disintegrating control. It was time to either go forward or retreat.
‘May I kiss you now? I will stop the moment you ask.’
Her lips parted and she nodded slightly, the words sliding out, hardly audible, but they seemed to enter directly into this chest, two spears dipped in molten lead.
‘Yes,
