Come Near Me
lingering ice around his heart. As Sherry stumbled into speech,
telling him that he was not at all odd, that she was
probably odd for saying such an odd thing—he wasn’t quite sure of
her every word, but there were more than a few odds sprinkled in her speech—he leaned forward and kissed the tip of her
nose.
    “Oh,” Sherry breathed, looking confused, yet not
precisely frightened, even when he took hold of her other hand as
well, holding them both against his chest. “Um... why did you do
that?”
    Adam could have said many things then. He could have
showered her with easy flattery, complimented her beauty, plucked a
bit of poetry from his memory and trotted it in front of her. He
could have done so many things, including apologizing for his
forwardness. But he found he could be nothing but candid in the
face of her own sweet honesty.
    “I had to, Miss Victor,” he told her, leaning
forward and repeating his pleasurable transgression. “In fact, if I
don’t soon taste your mouth, I may just wither and die.”
    “Oh,” she said again. But she didn’t look away. “I—I
thought I was the only one. You—you feel it, too?”
    Did she have any idea how her simple honesty
affected him? No artifice, no social correctness, no silly,
pointless games. She felt things, and then she said what she felt. What he felt.
    “Ah, yes, Miss Victor, I feel it, too. Frightening,
isn’t it? Whatever it is.”
    “Quite nearly terrifying. A heart really shouldn’t
beat this fast,” she whispered. “It can’t be healthy.”
    “Perhaps if we were to kiss, satisfy our mutual
curiosity?” Adam suggested, stroking his thumbs over the backs of
her hands, noticing how cold her fingers had become in the gentle
warmth of the spring evening. “Then we’d know, Miss Victor.
We really should know, shouldn’t we?”
    “I’d like to know, my lord,” she told him,
withdrawing her hands from his grasp and primly folding them
together in her lap. “And, after all, Mrs. Forrest isn’t here, is
she? Which is a good thing,” she added with a rather wicked smile,
“as I’m assured she’d have an apoplexy. Yes. Let’s do it. Just to
see what happens... as an experiment of sorts.” Sherry slowly shut
her eyes, offering her closed mouth to him with a trust and
innocence that were all that held him fast to at least one small,
ragged edge of sanity.
    Adam cupped her face in both his hands, studying
her, smiling at the sight of her scrunched-up features. This was
madness, but at the same time it was an adventure, a most glorious
adventure into the unknown. Slowly, drawing out the heady
anticipation of pleasure, he lowered his head toward Sherry’s.
    “Ah! There you are, brother. Easy enough to lose a
small army out here, amongst the posies. What’s wrong? Has Miss
Victor got something in her eye? I seriously doubt that, but I’m as
willing as the next gentleman to throw down an excuse if you wish
to pick it up.”
    “Consider it retrieved,” Adam said quietly,
releasing Sherry, his fingertips lingering, only for the barest
hint of a second, on her smooth cheeks. He turned to look at
Geoffrey Dagenham, his younger brother, his most beloved only
brother, and a man he most heartily wished a thousand miles from
Daventry Court. “Surely a visit to the hounds takes longer than
this.”
    “It could take forever, if Mr. Victor had his way,
so I left him to it,” Geoffrey answered brightly. “I think I’ve
given him pick of the latest litter, but I can’t be sure. My brains
started to spin after the first quarter hour of talking bloodlines
and points and, with your pardon, miss, fecund bitches. May I join
you?”
    “Of course—”
    “Not ,” Adam finished as Sherry moved down the
bench and Geoffrey, his smile one of unholy glee, promptly plunked
himself down between them.
    The young lord looked to his brother and Sherry in
turn. “Now, isn’t this cozy? What shall we talk about?”
    “Oh, I don’t know, Geoff. Your impending

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