The Romantic by Madeline Hunter Page A

what it did and did not mean.”
    It was not Julian the old friend gazing at her with those stormy eyes, nor was it Mr. Hampton the faithful advisor. A different man stood just inches from her, darkly displeased, projecting an aura that charged the air and made her heart pound.
    His hand came to rest on her face. She stared up in silent astonishment. That touch felt very good, however. Masculine and warm and confident.
    “Perhaps you did not include me because you did not think I could acquit myself well enough. After all, you have never subjected me to
due testing”
    His hand commanded her head steady. A sensual anticipation scurried through her.
    His head lowered and his mouth pressed hers.
    It was not a long kiss, but it amazed her. She responded as if a sexual breeze had entered her. The kiss was firm enough and long enough to make explicit it was not intended as one of friendship, or even one of request.
    He stopped and straightened. His gaze affected her even more than the kiss had. She could not even blink.
    Then he was gone, walking away, heading calmly for the door to the terrace like a man who had thought of something else he should be attending.

chapter
8
    I f that kiss was any indication, Julian Hampton could acquit himself very well indeed.
    That was the first lucid thought that entered Pen’s head as she gained some control on her flustered condition.
    She sat on the sofa, trying to find some accommodation to this sudden turn in their friendship.
    She had no idea what she was supposed to do now.
    She stood up and looked out the window. He was not on the terrace.
    He might think she was insulted by that kiss, or that she suspected his intentions now. That kiss could change everything about how one saw his help and protection and motivations, if one permitted it to.
    She did not want him wondering if that were the case with her.
    Her cloak was nowhere in sight, so she grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. She stepped out on the terrace to see where he was.
    Julian stood not far from the bottom step of the stonestairs, on a strip of beach released by the outgoing tide. He cut a handsome image standing there, framed by the sea, his dark frock coat and hair contrasting with its pale tones. His body bore a casual stance, as if he meditated on the elements and allowed nature’s forces to flow through him.
    He did not look like someone who would welcome an intrusion on his solitude.
    She headed down the stairs anyway. She went and stood beside him.
    He did not look at her. “You should have stayed in the cottage, Pen.”
    “I am not going to take ill. I am quite recovered from my ordeal.”
    “That is not what I meant.” He glanced over, then turned his attention back to the sea. “I do not intend to apologize, if that is what you expect.”
    “There is no need to. It was an impulse. We all on occasion act without thinking.”
    “Yes, it was an impulse. Or it may have been the most deliberate thing I have ever done in my life. I haven’t decided yet.”
    She did not know what to say to that, but she felt compelled to say something. “I am surprised, that is all. Flattered, too, certainly, but mostly surprised. I had no idea that you ever thought of me that way.”
    “Why wouldn’t I think of you that way? You are an attractive woman, and men have a habit of thinking of women that way in any case.”
    That certainly gave the episode a commonplace color. It also explained the true reason for that kiss. A very ordinaryone that had nothing to do with impulse, or even very much with whether he thought of her that way.
    His pride had been wounded, that was all. His masculinity had been insulted that the Countess of Glasbury had not included him on that silly list of potential lovers, no matter which lover she eventually chose.
    Well, what did she expect? He may be an old friend, but he was still a man.
    “Julian, I meant it when I said you were not on my list because you are honorable, and