Then, with a ragged breath, he pressed his lips to hers and kissed her.
She didn’t respond and he moved his hands over her body, slowly, tenderly. Down her back, then up and over her shoulders. He cupped her head in his palm and nestled her even closer.
There was only his thin linen shirt to separate them, yet he wasn’t cold. His body burned as if on fire. Just having her this near him was like living a hell more unbearable than the anguish the war had forced him to endure.
Her lack of response threw him into another hell.
Her lips were cold and lifeless beneath his and he deepened his kiss. He opened his mouth over hers, his tongue outlining her lips, but she refused to open to him. He pressed a finger against her chin but she held firm and didn’t yield.
Realizing she shared none of his passion jolted him with the force of a punch to the gut. He lifted his mouth from hers and looked into her eyes.
"Are you finished?" She wiped her mouth with her gloved fingers and met his gaze.
Tears filled her eyes, pooling together until one wet drop silently slipped over the edge and tumbled down her cheek. With trembling fingers, she wiped it away the same as she had the imprint of his kisses.
He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t find the strength to order his heart to continue beating, his mind to form the correct thoughts. "Yes, my lady. I apologize for my behavior. This will never happen again."
She didn’t acknowledge his promise, but pulled his jacket from around her shoulders and handed it to him.
Their fingers touched when he took it from her and she jerked her hand away as if even through her gloves his touch burned her.
Something inside him died at that moment. He wanted to say her reaction to his kiss hadn’t bothered him, but it had - more than he thought he could live with.
He took a step away from her then stopped when a voice from across the terrace interrupted them.
"There you are. Allow me to escort you back inside, Lydia."
"Yes, please."
The Marquess of Culbertson stepped toward them and claimed the woman he’d been given to be his bride.
When they left he stood in the cold December air and relived another time when he’d lost everything.
CHAPTER 9
He was gone.
It had been three weeks and she should be glad he wasn’t there as a constant temptation. Glad he wasn’t there to consume her thoughts every second of her day. Glad she was free to concentrate on her future with the Marquess of Culbertson.
Except in the twenty-one days since he’d moved out of Etherhouse, she’d been able to concentrate on nothing but Gabriel. And the night he’d kissed her.
Her mind constantly relived the feel of his lips against hers, the warmth of his body pressed against her, the swirling passion she almost hadn’t been able to ignore. It took every ounce of determination and willpower not to give in to him.
Oh, how she’d ached to wrap her arms around his neck and return his kisses.
She walked over to Harrison’s copy of Bleak House and ran her fingers over the gold embossed leather. She started to take it off the library shelf, then pushed it back in frustration.
Why had he kissed her? What did he hope to prove? That she still loved him?
She doubled her fist and slammed it against the bookcase. She hoped he was satisfied. He’d ruined everything. She’d spent the last year convincing herself she hated him, that she would never feel anything for him except disdain. And with one kiss...
She leaned her forehead against the cool leather spines and swallowed hard. Instead, the second his lips touched hers, the earth had spun on its axis. A heat unlike anything she’d ever felt spread through her and her lungs couldn’t take in enough air to breathe. Damn him! She’d been so sure she’d destroyed every emotion she’d ever felt for him. So sure she’d be just as disappointed with his kisses as she was with the Marquess of Culbertson’s.
But she hadn’t been. His kiss reminded her of what
She didn’t respond and he moved his hands over her body, slowly, tenderly. Down her back, then up and over her shoulders. He cupped her head in his palm and nestled her even closer.
There was only his thin linen shirt to separate them, yet he wasn’t cold. His body burned as if on fire. Just having her this near him was like living a hell more unbearable than the anguish the war had forced him to endure.
Her lack of response threw him into another hell.
Her lips were cold and lifeless beneath his and he deepened his kiss. He opened his mouth over hers, his tongue outlining her lips, but she refused to open to him. He pressed a finger against her chin but she held firm and didn’t yield.
Realizing she shared none of his passion jolted him with the force of a punch to the gut. He lifted his mouth from hers and looked into her eyes.
"Are you finished?" She wiped her mouth with her gloved fingers and met his gaze.
Tears filled her eyes, pooling together until one wet drop silently slipped over the edge and tumbled down her cheek. With trembling fingers, she wiped it away the same as she had the imprint of his kisses.
He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t find the strength to order his heart to continue beating, his mind to form the correct thoughts. "Yes, my lady. I apologize for my behavior. This will never happen again."
She didn’t acknowledge his promise, but pulled his jacket from around her shoulders and handed it to him.
Their fingers touched when he took it from her and she jerked her hand away as if even through her gloves his touch burned her.
Something inside him died at that moment. He wanted to say her reaction to his kiss hadn’t bothered him, but it had - more than he thought he could live with.
He took a step away from her then stopped when a voice from across the terrace interrupted them.
"There you are. Allow me to escort you back inside, Lydia."
"Yes, please."
The Marquess of Culbertson stepped toward them and claimed the woman he’d been given to be his bride.
When they left he stood in the cold December air and relived another time when he’d lost everything.
CHAPTER 9
He was gone.
It had been three weeks and she should be glad he wasn’t there as a constant temptation. Glad he wasn’t there to consume her thoughts every second of her day. Glad she was free to concentrate on her future with the Marquess of Culbertson.
Except in the twenty-one days since he’d moved out of Etherhouse, she’d been able to concentrate on nothing but Gabriel. And the night he’d kissed her.
Her mind constantly relived the feel of his lips against hers, the warmth of his body pressed against her, the swirling passion she almost hadn’t been able to ignore. It took every ounce of determination and willpower not to give in to him.
Oh, how she’d ached to wrap her arms around his neck and return his kisses.
She walked over to Harrison’s copy of Bleak House and ran her fingers over the gold embossed leather. She started to take it off the library shelf, then pushed it back in frustration.
Why had he kissed her? What did he hope to prove? That she still loved him?
She doubled her fist and slammed it against the bookcase. She hoped he was satisfied. He’d ruined everything. She’d spent the last year convincing herself she hated him, that she would never feel anything for him except disdain. And with one kiss...
She leaned her forehead against the cool leather spines and swallowed hard. Instead, the second his lips touched hers, the earth had spun on its axis. A heat unlike anything she’d ever felt spread through her and her lungs couldn’t take in enough air to breathe. Damn him! She’d been so sure she’d destroyed every emotion she’d ever felt for him. So sure she’d be just as disappointed with his kisses as she was with the Marquess of Culbertson’s.
But she hadn’t been. His kiss reminded her of what
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