The Wary Widow by Jerrica Knight-Catania Page B

nostril’s flared with indignation.
    “You are engaged to my cousin,” she said, each word slow and deliberate, as if she spoke to a child. “I will kindly ask you, sir, to never, ever , lay another hand on me.”
    “Chloe- ²
    She stalked to him, coming within inches of his face. “It’s Mrs. Hawthorne to you, and I’ll beg you never to forget that.”
    Though she'd spoken harsh words, there were tears in her eyes. He knew they weren't because she was angry. They were because she was denying herself something she wanted. Desperately. As desperately as he wanted her.
    She hesitated, and Andrew seized the moment, knowing he might endure another slap and more heated threats, but he didn’t care. He had to know. He had to know what she tasted like. What her lips felt like against his. So, he kissed her. Hard at first, holding her rigid body against him until she gave in. And when she did, when her body melted in his arms, he pried her lips apart and delved his tongue inside.
    Good God, she was sweet. Like lemons and sugar. And so soft. His cock grew hard as he imagined how soft she must be elsewhere. Warm and soft and accommodating to his-
    A salty wetness invaded their kiss. Damn it, she was crying in earnest now. He broke away and held her at an arm’s length. Indeed, a stream of tears made their way down her left cheek. She stared up at him, her face unreadable.
    And then she was gone, running down the path, clearly desperate to get away from him.
    ***
    Chloe ran all the way back to the main house, praying the others still hid away in their game. She was certain she and Andrew would be missed, especially since Lizzie led the game, but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t let them see her now.
    When she arrived at the back door, she made her way inside and found a servant girl.
    “Can you point me to the necessary, please?” she asked, her voice thick with tears.
    The little maid nodded and turned down a corridor, then opened the door to a water closet at the end of the hall. Chloe stepped inside and shut the door behind her, before falling to the floor in a fit of silent sobs.
    How could this have happened? How could she be attracted to the one man in London that she truly could not have? As a widow, she could have her pick of any manner of men, even married ones if she was discreet enough.
    She wrinkled her nose. The thought of dallying with a man who already had a wife made her rather ill, now she thought about it. Even so, it would not have been so out of the ordinary.
    But to dally with her cousin’s betrothed would be reprehensible. She already felt guilty enough about that kiss.
    Her heart twisted. Lord, that kiss. As if their lips had been designed one for the other.
    “Chloe? Chloe are you in there?”
Blast, they’d found her. Lizzie pounded on the door.
    “Andrew said you were feeling ill, are you all right?”
    “Did he mention he was the cause of my illness?” she muttered bitterly.
    “What?” Lizzie knocked again. “Chloe, I can’t hear you. Are you well enough to open the door or shall I have a maid fetch the key?”
    “No!” she shouted suddenly, trying to hide the fact that she’d been crying. “I’m fine, really. I think it was just a bit too much sun.”
    “Oh, of course, darling.” Lizzie hesitated, clearly at a loss for what to do or say next. “Would you like to let me in?” she finally asked, a bit awkwardly.
    Chloe took a few steadying breaths, knowing she would have to face her cousin sometime, then opened the door. Worry etched Lizzie’s features. A horrible guilt washed over Chloe, and she began to wonder if she smelled like Lord Andrew. Had his manly scent rubbed off on her? Oh, good heavens! How could she have done such a thing to her dear cousin? She was supposed to be looking out for her, keeping her best interests at heart as her chaperone. Not kissing her fiancé.
    “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”
Lizzie threw an arm around her