Glancing to his right, he realized the woman must be Miss Smythe. The young woman from the receiving line was so taken by the evening firmament, she had failed to notice his arrival. The moon lit her in profile, revealing the curve of her chin along with the perfection of her elegant nose. Without thinking, he spoke the words that entered his heart in the sheer perfection of the moment.
“Who can know heaven except by its gifts?”
Miss Smythe jumped slightly, startled at his voice disrupting the silence of the night. After a moment, without turning to see who had interrupted her observation of the heavens, she responded in the most surprising manner.
“And who can find out God, unless the man who is himself an emanation from God?”
Aidan blinked, almost stepping back in his amazement. “You have readAstronomica?”
“Marcus Manilius was one of the greatest poets of Ancient Rome.”
Her voice was melodic and confident, and Aidan realized he was beholding a scholar of the Classics with a deep appreciation for the works.
The breath caught in his lungs, and the words of Plato sprung unsummoned into his mind. Was Miss Smythe his other half?
The folded list in his breast pocket mocked his romantic optimism. Did he truly believe that the heavens would reveal the other half of his soul to be the child of the man responsible for the attack on his sister two weeks earlier?
Yet, how else did one explain this synchronization, this attraction he was feeling for the young lady? He had traveled the realm and the Continent and never encountered such feminine perfection as a divinity who quoted the great minds of the ancient world. How was such a woman unwed?Undesired by the bucks of theton? Was she surrounded by deaf and blind imbeciles?
If only …
His feet had a mind of their own, leading him to stand at her side to view the haunting grandeur of the night together. His duplicitous behavior was temporarily forgotten, all thoughts wiped from his mind other than to behold her with the awe of a mere mortal in the presence of sacred womanhood.
Gwen was not accustomedto tall, handsome gentlemen seeking her out, but the stranger on the terrace now stood a mere foot away. Perhaps the dramatic evening landscape had drawn him in. Certainly, he was not aware that he was flirting with Gwen, Gwen the Spotted Giraffe.
Seconds earlier, she had wished she could enjoy a magical moment such as this with a suitable gentleman, and it would appear the deities had answered her fervent wish to experience the romance of a lover by her side. He had materialized as if wished into being by her very thoughts. Silent after their odd exchange aboutAstronomica.
Letting out a shaky breath, she accepted it for what it was. An aberration brought on by the pale light. Clearly the man had no idea he was standing next to a spotted ginger. He most likely thought she was a svelte brunette, with flawless skin that had never been touched by the sun’s rays. Whatever his reasons, she was going to accept this opportunity to behold the beauty of the night and pretend she had a beau to share it with.
The fear of ruining the moment had her squeezing the stone beneath her fingers, as she clung to the fantasy that an eligible man wished to share the view with her. She wasterrified she would ruin the moment and it would end before she had gathered every sense, every second, that she could before returning to the solitude of her real life.
Not only was he physically impressive, from what she could see from the corner of her eye, but he had perfectly translated the Latin poem and attributed it to the rightful source. He was a true scholar to engage in such a discussion, and for just a fleeting second, Gwen dared to believe that this was the man who her father had promised would appear. Gwen released her cynicism to allow the magic of possibilities to enter her heart.
It is to savor the moment, she told herself. But despite her pragmatic nature, deep in her soul she felt that something unexpected was unfolding.
From the corner of her eye, she saw that his hand had come to rest next to hers. It was the tiniest fraction of an inch away, so close she could feel the heat emanating from his glove to soak into her skin. If she had the courage to move, she could touch him, but she was too afraid it would end their interlude before it had begun. She willed her hand to remain in place.
It was without surprise when she felt his large hand extend to cover hers, and she accepted that she was dreaming this entire encounter. That soon she would awake to find out she had dozed off on the terrace and imagined this entire circumstance but, in the meanwhile, she would bury herself in the dream. If only every slumber included such wonderful happenings.
The man gently tugged at her hand, turning to pull her into his arms ever so slowly as if to give her the opportunity to protest, and Gwen was amazed at the realism of this apparition. She could feel the strength of his arms wrapping around her waist and shoulders, smell the leather of his boots and his freshly laundered linen, as he pulled heragainst his hard body. Tilting her chin, she watched him lower his head and accepted the press of his lips against hers, sighing in pleasure when she was enveloped in masculinity.
His lips were firm, hesitating before she felt them part and the flicker of his tongue. Her mouth fell open in invitation, well aware of this type of kissing due to her reading of their extensive library. Obviously, this was fantasy from the depths of her sleepy mind, so she imagined what she had read. They kissed deeply, his satin tongue tangling with hers to light the flames of desire, sweeping through her body to engulf her lower belly.
Gwen pressed her thighs together to quell the throbbing sensation springing to life, and kissed the stranger back with all the passion she had banked within her soul while she had waited, and then wearied of the search for the right man, as her father liked to refer to him.
Her arms stole up to circle the stranger’s neck, and she heard him growl in the back of his throat with approval as he drew her closer to his muscled body. Her imagination was far more developed than she had previously realized, she thought to herself, as her bosom flattened against his hard chest. She wished she might sleep forever if she could hold on to this fairytale that a veritable Adonis had appeared out of her deepest desires to ravish her in the moonlight.
Moaning, she pressed closer, reveling in pressing her belly against the hardness that revealed his desire for her, and understanding what it was to be wanted by a man for the first time in her many years.
He was tall and muscular, a god stepped out of an Italian painting to wreak havoc on her senses, and he made her feel captivating as his lips trailed across her cheek to breathe deeply of her hair near her sensitive temple.
“Citrus …” he whispered, before finding her earlobe and suckling it between his warm lips. Gwen gasped as delicious sensation shot out in waves, her head rolling back to give him better access as she delighted in the overwhelming pleasure.
She reached her hands up to curl her fingers into his dark hair, while his hands ran up and down her back, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Panting hard, she felt his hands gradually slide down to cup her buttocks, his lips returning to hers while a growl emitted from deep within his chest. She shivered with the delight of the moment, his hips pressing against hers, and she wanted to grab his coat and rip it from his shoulders so she might?—
Behind them, the sound of a door opening onto the terrace made her and the stranger freeze in each other’s arms. Gwen panted, no longer with passion but with fear that curled through her organs as they parted slightly to stare at one another. The man slowly shut his eyes for a moment in a pained manner. When he reopened them, he turned his head to look over her shoulder.
Gwen prayed that he would find no one there, but she saw his eyes focus and knew without a doubt that they had been caught.
