just kissed me as no lady should kiss a man who is not her betrothed or, preferably, her husband.”
“Don’t be prissy, Max. We’ve done nothing that makes it essential we wed.”
“I thought you’d forgiven me.”
“I have.”
“Five years ago, you were ready to marry me, until Ashdown interfered. Why not now?”
“Actually,” she said, “I wasn’t intending to wed you then, either.”
“What?”
“Hush! Do you want to summon a crowd?”
With some difficulty, Max moderated his tone. “Do you mean to say you lay with me, you surrendered your virtue, with no intention of marrying me?”
“I’ll admit I wasn’t thinking very clearly that night. I was a little carried away. After it happened”—she smiled at the reminiscence in a way he could only characterize as lascivious—“I might have considered wedding you. Sir George Ashdown quickly squashed that idea.”
Max felt the ground slipping out from under his feet. “Do you love me, Eleanor?” he asked, trying to bring the discussion back under control. “I loved you then and I love you now. You are the only woman I have ever loved, the only one I wish to marry and live with for the rest of my life.” An astonishing and hurtful idea occurred to him. “Did you love me? Or was I merely a week’s flirtation to be used and set aside?”
She took his hands in each of hers and looked up at him, her head tilted to one side. “I think I did love you, Max. Maybe I still do. More than any other man I’ve ever met. Will you give me time to think about it?”
“How much time? Five minutes, ten?”
“A little more than that.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss the tip of his nose. “At least a few days.”
He didn’t want to wait a few days. Desire and low cunning overcame his scruples and all his resolutions to exercise restraint. Deciding to use every weapon at his disposal he gathered her into his arms again and took a long, delicious kiss that left them both shaky and breathless.
“Give me your answer tomorrow,” he said with a gasp.
“No, but I’ll take another kiss.”
“Come to my bedchamber and I’ll do even better.”
She was considering it, he could tell. His groin ached at the thought of Eleanor naked between linen sheets, of taking her now, and not letting her go until she was thoroughly pleasured, totally compromised, and possibly pregnant to boot.
With regret and a measure of relief he watched her slowly shake her head. “It’s just as well,” he said. “I want you to come to me freely, without a shadow of doubt or coercion. You are worth waiting for.”
A dazzling smile was his reward. “Thank you, Max. I’m tempted by your offer, but I don’t want to risk getting with child. I only returned your letters when I knew I had not conceived. It would have been dreadful to be forced to wed you for such a reason. I suppose we’d better return before we create a scandal.”
He wasn’t ready to let her go. “I’d like to show you something. Beyond that topiary there’s a border planted with all white flowers. They look their best by moonlight.”
“How charming. I’d like to see that.”
“There’s a little summerhouse from which one can sit and view it. It has a very comfortable bench.”
In all her sensible days, Eleanor had never received such a romantic offer as a comfortable bench away from prying eyes and the scent of summer flowers in the night. Turning down Max’s suggestion of a bed had taken all her willpower. A wellspring of joy in her breast made her want to say yes to all and anything Max proposed, including a hasty marriage. But a lifetime’s habit of caution told her to wait. A decision to abandon her devoutly held beliefs must be made in the cold light of day.
There was no reason she couldn’t indulge herself a little more. She could enjoy a goodnight kiss. “Lead on,” she said. “I expect you to tell me the names of all the flowers.”
He snatched a quick taste of her lips and hurried
“Don’t be prissy, Max. We’ve done nothing that makes it essential we wed.”
“I thought you’d forgiven me.”
“I have.”
“Five years ago, you were ready to marry me, until Ashdown interfered. Why not now?”
“Actually,” she said, “I wasn’t intending to wed you then, either.”
“What?”
“Hush! Do you want to summon a crowd?”
With some difficulty, Max moderated his tone. “Do you mean to say you lay with me, you surrendered your virtue, with no intention of marrying me?”
“I’ll admit I wasn’t thinking very clearly that night. I was a little carried away. After it happened”—she smiled at the reminiscence in a way he could only characterize as lascivious—“I might have considered wedding you. Sir George Ashdown quickly squashed that idea.”
Max felt the ground slipping out from under his feet. “Do you love me, Eleanor?” he asked, trying to bring the discussion back under control. “I loved you then and I love you now. You are the only woman I have ever loved, the only one I wish to marry and live with for the rest of my life.” An astonishing and hurtful idea occurred to him. “Did you love me? Or was I merely a week’s flirtation to be used and set aside?”
She took his hands in each of hers and looked up at him, her head tilted to one side. “I think I did love you, Max. Maybe I still do. More than any other man I’ve ever met. Will you give me time to think about it?”
“How much time? Five minutes, ten?”
“A little more than that.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss the tip of his nose. “At least a few days.”
He didn’t want to wait a few days. Desire and low cunning overcame his scruples and all his resolutions to exercise restraint. Deciding to use every weapon at his disposal he gathered her into his arms again and took a long, delicious kiss that left them both shaky and breathless.
“Give me your answer tomorrow,” he said with a gasp.
“No, but I’ll take another kiss.”
“Come to my bedchamber and I’ll do even better.”
She was considering it, he could tell. His groin ached at the thought of Eleanor naked between linen sheets, of taking her now, and not letting her go until she was thoroughly pleasured, totally compromised, and possibly pregnant to boot.
With regret and a measure of relief he watched her slowly shake her head. “It’s just as well,” he said. “I want you to come to me freely, without a shadow of doubt or coercion. You are worth waiting for.”
A dazzling smile was his reward. “Thank you, Max. I’m tempted by your offer, but I don’t want to risk getting with child. I only returned your letters when I knew I had not conceived. It would have been dreadful to be forced to wed you for such a reason. I suppose we’d better return before we create a scandal.”
He wasn’t ready to let her go. “I’d like to show you something. Beyond that topiary there’s a border planted with all white flowers. They look their best by moonlight.”
“How charming. I’d like to see that.”
“There’s a little summerhouse from which one can sit and view it. It has a very comfortable bench.”
In all her sensible days, Eleanor had never received such a romantic offer as a comfortable bench away from prying eyes and the scent of summer flowers in the night. Turning down Max’s suggestion of a bed had taken all her willpower. A wellspring of joy in her breast made her want to say yes to all and anything Max proposed, including a hasty marriage. But a lifetime’s habit of caution told her to wait. A decision to abandon her devoutly held beliefs must be made in the cold light of day.
There was no reason she couldn’t indulge herself a little more. She could enjoy a goodnight kiss. “Lead on,” she said. “I expect you to tell me the names of all the flowers.”
He snatched a quick taste of her lips and hurried
Similar Books
