pleasure, gentle waves of delight.
Then…something changed.
He shifted closer, angled his head, and what had started as a simple exchange became more—much more. More complex, more complicated, infinitely more absorbing. His lips moved on hers, compelling, hungry but not ravenous, not frightening in any way. He supped, sipped, as if needing to explore her lips again, needing to taste them. He’d always excelled at kissing, but now…it seemed as if he felt the leaping of her heart, felt and understood the sudden upwelling of yearning that, entirely unbidden, totally against her will, filled her soul.
She kissed him back—raised her free hand to his shoulder and pressed her lips to his. She hadn’t meant to, yet was incapable of denying not him but herself. It had been a long time since she’d kissed any man, but it wasn’t only that that impelled her to want and take what he offered.
Just a kiss, or so it seemed. No reason not to part her lips and invite him in, as she had so long ago…
He accepted, not as if he took her offer for granted, yet not as if he’d forgotten their past either. The languid surge of his tongue against hers made her bones melt. What followed demonstrated beyond all doubt that he’d learned volumes in the years since they’d last indulged, acquired skills and talents far beyond those he’d had.
Lips, tongues, and hot, wet pleasure; her starved senses whirled, giddily luxuriating as she savored the long-forgotten delight. Let him and the moment be reason enough.
When he lifted his head with a reluctance she knew wasn’t feigned—a reluctance echoed in her veins—she was breathless, her heart thudding in her throat, one hand still locked in his, the other fisted in his lapel as she leaned close to boneless against him.
Just a kiss, and he could still reduce her to that nearly swooning state where nothing in the world seemed to matter—just them, and what they made each other feel.
She drew a shaky breath, blinked up at him. “Why did you do that?”
His midnight gaze roamed her face, then settled on her eyes. He studied them before replying, “Because I wanted to. Because I’ve been wanting to since the first moment I saw you again.”
She searched his eyes; he wasn’t lying, prevaricating, or evading. His simple words were the simple truth.
Clearing her throat, she eased back. Conscious of the whirlpool of potent sensuality that lurked beneath his surface, and hers, too. That had always been her problem with him; the desire that burned so readily between them had never been his alone. She drew in another breath, felt her wits steady. “That wasn’t very wise.”
His shoulders lifted in a Gallic shrug. He let her step away, but retained his hold on her hand; he caught her gaze. “When were we ever wise?”
A valid point, one she wasn’t about to attempt to answer.
When she said nothing more, he turned her, and they walked on to the house, her father’s book of maps under his arm, her hand still locked in his.
CHAPTER
5
I MMEDIATELY AFTER LUNCH WAS OVER , C HARLES INVOKED the specter of estate business and took refuge in his study. He was the one who now needed time to think.
His steward, Matthews, had left various documents prominently displayed on his desk; he forced himself to attend to the most urgent, but left all the rest. Leaning back in his chair, he stared at the volume of maps he’d carried in. Abruptly, he swiveled the chair so its back was to the desk, and he was facing the window and the undemanding view.
He had to find his mental footing, determine where he was and where he wanted to be—and then work out how to get there. Not, as he’d supposed, solely in terms of his investigation, but, it now seemed, with his personal quest, too.
He’d arrived at the Abbey three days ago with two goals before him, both needing to be urgently addressed—one professional goal, his investigation, and his personal goal, his search for a wife. It had been
Then…something changed.
He shifted closer, angled his head, and what had started as a simple exchange became more—much more. More complex, more complicated, infinitely more absorbing. His lips moved on hers, compelling, hungry but not ravenous, not frightening in any way. He supped, sipped, as if needing to explore her lips again, needing to taste them. He’d always excelled at kissing, but now…it seemed as if he felt the leaping of her heart, felt and understood the sudden upwelling of yearning that, entirely unbidden, totally against her will, filled her soul.
She kissed him back—raised her free hand to his shoulder and pressed her lips to his. She hadn’t meant to, yet was incapable of denying not him but herself. It had been a long time since she’d kissed any man, but it wasn’t only that that impelled her to want and take what he offered.
Just a kiss, or so it seemed. No reason not to part her lips and invite him in, as she had so long ago…
He accepted, not as if he took her offer for granted, yet not as if he’d forgotten their past either. The languid surge of his tongue against hers made her bones melt. What followed demonstrated beyond all doubt that he’d learned volumes in the years since they’d last indulged, acquired skills and talents far beyond those he’d had.
Lips, tongues, and hot, wet pleasure; her starved senses whirled, giddily luxuriating as she savored the long-forgotten delight. Let him and the moment be reason enough.
When he lifted his head with a reluctance she knew wasn’t feigned—a reluctance echoed in her veins—she was breathless, her heart thudding in her throat, one hand still locked in his, the other fisted in his lapel as she leaned close to boneless against him.
Just a kiss, and he could still reduce her to that nearly swooning state where nothing in the world seemed to matter—just them, and what they made each other feel.
She drew a shaky breath, blinked up at him. “Why did you do that?”
His midnight gaze roamed her face, then settled on her eyes. He studied them before replying, “Because I wanted to. Because I’ve been wanting to since the first moment I saw you again.”
She searched his eyes; he wasn’t lying, prevaricating, or evading. His simple words were the simple truth.
Clearing her throat, she eased back. Conscious of the whirlpool of potent sensuality that lurked beneath his surface, and hers, too. That had always been her problem with him; the desire that burned so readily between them had never been his alone. She drew in another breath, felt her wits steady. “That wasn’t very wise.”
His shoulders lifted in a Gallic shrug. He let her step away, but retained his hold on her hand; he caught her gaze. “When were we ever wise?”
A valid point, one she wasn’t about to attempt to answer.
When she said nothing more, he turned her, and they walked on to the house, her father’s book of maps under his arm, her hand still locked in his.
CHAPTER
5
I MMEDIATELY AFTER LUNCH WAS OVER , C HARLES INVOKED the specter of estate business and took refuge in his study. He was the one who now needed time to think.
His steward, Matthews, had left various documents prominently displayed on his desk; he forced himself to attend to the most urgent, but left all the rest. Leaning back in his chair, he stared at the volume of maps he’d carried in. Abruptly, he swiveled the chair so its back was to the desk, and he was facing the window and the undemanding view.
He had to find his mental footing, determine where he was and where he wanted to be—and then work out how to get there. Not, as he’d supposed, solely in terms of his investigation, but, it now seemed, with his personal quest, too.
He’d arrived at the Abbey three days ago with two goals before him, both needing to be urgently addressed—one professional goal, his investigation, and his personal goal, his search for a wife. It had been
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