gently moulded them to his own. He felt her stiffen slightly, but she made no move to draw away, and it registered in his mind that her confidence in Malcolm was something quite out of the ordinary.
He could taste the innocence on her tongue. That she was so totally ignorant of a man's passion and the ways of love brought a surge of tenderness and—he could scarcely credit it in himself—a fierce possessiveness that he recognized as primitive in origin. It was a new experience for Deveryn. As the kiss continued, he savoured the novelty of emotions he had scarcely believed existed.
When he felt her trembling in his arms, he slowly brought the kiss to an end. That he should let her simply walk away, out of his life forever, was unthinkable.
"Malcolm?" she queried, and he heard the confusion behind the word.
"Come." He gave her no chance to deny him. One arm slid around her shoulders and he turned her head into his chest to protect her from the elements. She followed his lead blindly, and he half-dragged her at a run through the iron gate and up the stone flags to the great door of the church. He pushed it open and they entered the narthex. The lights from the sanctuary scarcely penetrated to their lair. There wasn't a soul in sight. It suited Deveryn's purpose admirably.
He turned her in his arms and said simply, "Kiss me again."
"Malcolm, no." He could tell that she didn't want to hurt Malcolm's feelings. The darkness hid his smile.
His hands tangled in her hair and he brought her face up. "Kiss me," he repeated softly, with a little more force behind the words.
Her hands spread out against his chest, but she allowed him to capture her lips just the same. When she melted into him, he released her and cupped her head with both hands, kissing her quickly and urgently.
He let out a shaky breath, and he laughed. "Damn if China doesn't exist after all! Who would have believed it?"
Her crop caught him a glancing blow across the chest. One backward step and she was out of his arms.
"You're not Malcolm." She spoke without heat, but he knew that her eyes were flashing fire.
He hoped she would not try to use the crop on him again, because then he would have to take it away from her, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. "I never said I was."
"You're English!" Her tone was faintly accusing.
"How can you tell? Is my accent so noticeable?" He knew that it was.
His calm, good humour seemed to infuriate her.
"No. It's your quaint way of turning the truth on its head to justify your actions. I believe it's a talent that all the English are born with."
The jibe made no impression on him. "You're English too. Though perhaps I do detect a certain softening of the vowels, now that you mention it. It's very attractive."
"Silver tongued, too. That doesn't surprise me." She paced toward the sanctuary, then swiftly turned on her heel. "Please let me pass. I must find Malcolm."
His back was to the door. He folded his arms across his chest and braced one shoulder against it. "I can't let you go like this. If I frightened you, I'm sorry."
"You didn't frighten me," she answered with forced calm. "Now may I go?"
At this last, he cocked one eyebrow. "Aren't you just a little bit intrigued by the man you shared that kiss with? And such a kiss, let me tell you. You felt it too, and don't try to tell me otherwise."
Her pacing slowed, and she looked at him as if seeing him . clearly for the first time. Even in that shadowy interior, the creature's beauty and grace were undeniable. The semi- darkness should have robbed his blond locks of some of their lustre, but the faint rays of the candlelight penetrating from the sanctuary touched his shapely head in such a way that his hair, windblown and tousled, seemed to glow with a life of'its own. It intensified her first impression that this was no mortal man but an angel. Only the sensual slant to his mouth detracted from the original impression. A carnal angel, she thought with a
He could taste the innocence on her tongue. That she was so totally ignorant of a man's passion and the ways of love brought a surge of tenderness and—he could scarcely credit it in himself—a fierce possessiveness that he recognized as primitive in origin. It was a new experience for Deveryn. As the kiss continued, he savoured the novelty of emotions he had scarcely believed existed.
When he felt her trembling in his arms, he slowly brought the kiss to an end. That he should let her simply walk away, out of his life forever, was unthinkable.
"Malcolm?" she queried, and he heard the confusion behind the word.
"Come." He gave her no chance to deny him. One arm slid around her shoulders and he turned her head into his chest to protect her from the elements. She followed his lead blindly, and he half-dragged her at a run through the iron gate and up the stone flags to the great door of the church. He pushed it open and they entered the narthex. The lights from the sanctuary scarcely penetrated to their lair. There wasn't a soul in sight. It suited Deveryn's purpose admirably.
He turned her in his arms and said simply, "Kiss me again."
"Malcolm, no." He could tell that she didn't want to hurt Malcolm's feelings. The darkness hid his smile.
His hands tangled in her hair and he brought her face up. "Kiss me," he repeated softly, with a little more force behind the words.
Her hands spread out against his chest, but she allowed him to capture her lips just the same. When she melted into him, he released her and cupped her head with both hands, kissing her quickly and urgently.
He let out a shaky breath, and he laughed. "Damn if China doesn't exist after all! Who would have believed it?"
Her crop caught him a glancing blow across the chest. One backward step and she was out of his arms.
"You're not Malcolm." She spoke without heat, but he knew that her eyes were flashing fire.
He hoped she would not try to use the crop on him again, because then he would have to take it away from her, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. "I never said I was."
"You're English!" Her tone was faintly accusing.
"How can you tell? Is my accent so noticeable?" He knew that it was.
His calm, good humour seemed to infuriate her.
"No. It's your quaint way of turning the truth on its head to justify your actions. I believe it's a talent that all the English are born with."
The jibe made no impression on him. "You're English too. Though perhaps I do detect a certain softening of the vowels, now that you mention it. It's very attractive."
"Silver tongued, too. That doesn't surprise me." She paced toward the sanctuary, then swiftly turned on her heel. "Please let me pass. I must find Malcolm."
His back was to the door. He folded his arms across his chest and braced one shoulder against it. "I can't let you go like this. If I frightened you, I'm sorry."
"You didn't frighten me," she answered with forced calm. "Now may I go?"
At this last, he cocked one eyebrow. "Aren't you just a little bit intrigued by the man you shared that kiss with? And such a kiss, let me tell you. You felt it too, and don't try to tell me otherwise."
Her pacing slowed, and she looked at him as if seeing him . clearly for the first time. Even in that shadowy interior, the creature's beauty and grace were undeniable. The semi- darkness should have robbed his blond locks of some of their lustre, but the faint rays of the candlelight penetrating from the sanctuary touched his shapely head in such a way that his hair, windblown and tousled, seemed to glow with a life of'its own. It intensified her first impression that this was no mortal man but an angel. Only the sensual slant to his mouth detracted from the original impression. A carnal angel, she thought with a
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