arms and rested lightly on her shoulders, holding her to him. Rose had closed her eyes, but the next instant they flew open and she drew back.
‘Oh, my! I beg your pardon!’
‘There is no need; I am not offended.’ He was smiling at her in a way that made it difficult to think.
She knew she should get up off her knees, but his hands remained on her shoulders, the thumbs tracing the line of her collarbones through the wool of her wrap. She did not want him to stop.
‘I—I do not know what came over me.’
‘Curiosity, perhaps?’ His smile grew and she felt her bones begin to melt.
‘It…it is the snow,’ she stammered. ‘And the wine. I am not normally so…wanton. What must you think of me?’
He skimmed one hand down her arm and even through the soft woollen sleeve her skin tingled beneath his touch.
‘I think you are adorable.’ He lifted her hand and began to kiss each of her fingers.
‘Wh-what are you doing?’
‘Trying to decide,’ he murmured, between slow, deliberate kisses, ‘if I most want to make love toyou here on the rug in front of the fire, or in my bed, between silken sheets.’
The images conjured by his soft words made her tremble. If she had not already been kneeling, she thought she must have collapsed on the rug in a damp heap of desire and anticipation.
‘Im-impossible,’ she stammered. ‘You will do neither of those things.’
‘No?’ He raised his eyes from the contemplation of her fingers, and what was left of her insides liquefied. ‘It was you who kissed me . And you yourself questioned whether we were wasting this opportunity.’
She swallowed and ran her tongue nervously over her lips.
‘Are…are you joking me, Sir Lawrence?’ The look in his eyes told her he was in deadly earnest.
‘One night,’ he whispered. ‘After that we will go back to our separate worlds and need never meet again. What do you say?’
It was the edge of a precipice. He was still holding her hand, his thumb rubbing gently across the soft inner side of her wrist and sending arrows of heat through her body. They were still kneeling, and so close that she would only have to lean forwards a little to be in his arms.
Rose searched his eyes. Behind the intense blue was a shadow of sadness.
I could dispel that , she thought. I could make him happy, at least for a while.
‘No.’ Gently she disengaged her hands. ‘I am very sorry if I led you to think—’
‘You did, but I shall get over it.’ He held out his hand to her. ‘“Since there’s no help for it, come, let us kiss and part,”’ he quoted, smiling.
Her throat swelled. Tears burned her eyes as he pulled her to her feet.
‘Oh, please do not say such things to me!’
‘Do you not like Drayton?’
‘Too much!’ She blinked. ‘It—it has been a long day. I should retire now.’
He released her, and with another mumbled apology she ran out of the room.
Damnation!
Lawrence stared at the closed door. She had rejected him.
And quite right, too , argued the voice in his head. She is too respectable for you, despite that unsolicited kiss. But he had thought, for a while, that she might just count the world well lost. She had certainly considered it. He sighed. Such a heady mix of innocence and honesty. She had begged him to ignore her. How much better if he could have done so! Indeed, he had intended to keep his distance, until the moment he had taken her hands. The mere touch of her skin and all his honourable resolutions had fled. All he knew was that he wanted her in his arms. In his bed.
He had not felt such desire for months, possibly years. He was happy enough to attend the constant round of parties and balls that filled the London social calendar and was willing to indulge any of the ladies who threw themselves in his way in a little flirtation. Mostly it wasno more than that, but he had only to escort a lady to her home for the gossips to claim she was his mistress. He had stopped trying to correct
‘Oh, my! I beg your pardon!’
‘There is no need; I am not offended.’ He was smiling at her in a way that made it difficult to think.
She knew she should get up off her knees, but his hands remained on her shoulders, the thumbs tracing the line of her collarbones through the wool of her wrap. She did not want him to stop.
‘I—I do not know what came over me.’
‘Curiosity, perhaps?’ His smile grew and she felt her bones begin to melt.
‘It…it is the snow,’ she stammered. ‘And the wine. I am not normally so…wanton. What must you think of me?’
He skimmed one hand down her arm and even through the soft woollen sleeve her skin tingled beneath his touch.
‘I think you are adorable.’ He lifted her hand and began to kiss each of her fingers.
‘Wh-what are you doing?’
‘Trying to decide,’ he murmured, between slow, deliberate kisses, ‘if I most want to make love toyou here on the rug in front of the fire, or in my bed, between silken sheets.’
The images conjured by his soft words made her tremble. If she had not already been kneeling, she thought she must have collapsed on the rug in a damp heap of desire and anticipation.
‘Im-impossible,’ she stammered. ‘You will do neither of those things.’
‘No?’ He raised his eyes from the contemplation of her fingers, and what was left of her insides liquefied. ‘It was you who kissed me . And you yourself questioned whether we were wasting this opportunity.’
She swallowed and ran her tongue nervously over her lips.
‘Are…are you joking me, Sir Lawrence?’ The look in his eyes told her he was in deadly earnest.
‘One night,’ he whispered. ‘After that we will go back to our separate worlds and need never meet again. What do you say?’
It was the edge of a precipice. He was still holding her hand, his thumb rubbing gently across the soft inner side of her wrist and sending arrows of heat through her body. They were still kneeling, and so close that she would only have to lean forwards a little to be in his arms.
Rose searched his eyes. Behind the intense blue was a shadow of sadness.
I could dispel that , she thought. I could make him happy, at least for a while.
‘No.’ Gently she disengaged her hands. ‘I am very sorry if I led you to think—’
‘You did, but I shall get over it.’ He held out his hand to her. ‘“Since there’s no help for it, come, let us kiss and part,”’ he quoted, smiling.
Her throat swelled. Tears burned her eyes as he pulled her to her feet.
‘Oh, please do not say such things to me!’
‘Do you not like Drayton?’
‘Too much!’ She blinked. ‘It—it has been a long day. I should retire now.’
He released her, and with another mumbled apology she ran out of the room.
Damnation!
Lawrence stared at the closed door. She had rejected him.
And quite right, too , argued the voice in his head. She is too respectable for you, despite that unsolicited kiss. But he had thought, for a while, that she might just count the world well lost. She had certainly considered it. He sighed. Such a heady mix of innocence and honesty. She had begged him to ignore her. How much better if he could have done so! Indeed, he had intended to keep his distance, until the moment he had taken her hands. The mere touch of her skin and all his honourable resolutions had fled. All he knew was that he wanted her in his arms. In his bed.
He had not felt such desire for months, possibly years. He was happy enough to attend the constant round of parties and balls that filled the London social calendar and was willing to indulge any of the ladies who threw themselves in his way in a little flirtation. Mostly it wasno more than that, but he had only to escort a lady to her home for the gossips to claim she was his mistress. He had stopped trying to correct
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