There it was again, that word.
Heirs.
It hurt like a knife to the heart. It was a reminder of his duty and her unsuitability. His words were meant to be reassuring, but they were the opposite. She was going to disappoint and hurt everyone again. He simply didn’t know it yet.
“Somehow,IknewIwould find you here.”
Michael walked into the center of the maze, the familiarity of the image in front of him catapulting him back twelve years. Josephine was standing in the small folly, wearing a gown very similar to the one she wore that fateful afternoon long ago. As if time had ceased to have meaning and this maze existed in a magical realm separate from reality.
They had arrived at his estate an hour ago. His mother had received Josephine with all the warmth and graciousness he had expected. It went a long way to ease Josephine’s fears. She now looked marginally more at ease, though not enough. Her reticence was still firmly in place, separating them like a gossamer barrier. Her coy smile made him want to tear through it.
“Maybe you followed me.”
He shook his head. “I don’t need to. It seems as if fate is determined to throw us together.”
“Only to tear us apart. I believe fate is a cruel entity.”
“Nothing can tear us apart now, except you.”
“Michael…”
“What, Josephine? You may say you don’t want me anymore. You may pretend there’s nothing between us now. But I know better.”
Her gaze skittered around the clearing like a nervous butterfly, landing everywhere but on him. “There’s nothing to be gained by bringing up ancient history.”
“It is not ancient history to me. And I think you are lying to yourself. Can you honestly tell me you are unaffected by my presence?” He stepped closer to her, noting the flaring of her nose, the widening of her eyes. Slowly, as if approaching a skittish filly, he raised his hand to brush a silky strand of her hair behind her ear. She didn’t move away. A victory of sorts. A small one, but important. He understood tactics and strategy. A war was not won in one day. It was a series of small victories that determined the ultimate outcome. He would wage a campaign for her heart. He would not give up. He couldn’t.
His fingers brushed the delicate skin of her ear, and to his satisfaction, she shuddered. But then her eyes flashed with annoyance, and she swatted at his hand. Good. At least he wasgetting an honest response from her. Anything was preferable to this detached despondency. “Do you think this is easy for me?”
“Of course not. I know you are not ready to give me another chance. But I can wait. I will wait an eternity for you.”
“No! I don’t want you to wait for me. Don’t you see what a terrible burden it places on my shoulders? I don’t want to raise false hopes when I know nothing can come of it.”
“You are not raising false hopes. But you can’t control the way I feel. Not even I can.”
“I don’t want to hurt you, Michael.”
“What about you, Josie? Don’t you hurt as well?” He moved closer still, so close the hem of her skirt covered the tips of his boots. And still she did not retreat. Maybe she couldn’t. The ripple of her throat as she swallowed was the only movement she made. She was standing so still, her gaze locked with his.
“I want to kiss you.” The simple statement came out as a warning, or maybe a plea. He meant it as both. He was desperate for her but didn’t want to take anything she wasn’t ready to give.
Her lips parted, and her gaze dropped to his mouth. It was a subtle invitation, but one he couldn’t resist. Slowly, to give her time to stop him if she so wished, he lowered his head, pausing a whisper away from her lips. Their breaths intermingled for two heartbeats.
He wasn’t sure if she closed the last space that separated their mouths or if he did. But then their lips were melding, the contact so right, so necessary, he wondered how he survived without it for twelve long years. How could he ever live without it again if he didn’t manage to keep her this time?
He deepened the kiss, reaching for more of her taste, more of the silky warmth of her mouth. She responded in kind; her hands fluttered against his chest like trapped birds, but she leaned into him.
Her flavor, familiar and dear, the tiny hitches in her breath when his tongue would sweep out and touch hers. Her bottom lip, plump and soft, begged him to bite and then soothe it with his tongue. The smoothness of her cheeks under his palms, the silkiness of her hair teasing his fingertips. He had never forgotten how silky her hair was. How sweet her lips.
Reality faded. Nothing existed beyond this place, here, them, their mouths joining and their souls melding.
The small mewling sound she made spurred him on. He remembered that sound. It was etched in his heart. It was a sound of pleasure and need. Of a want so deep it could not be expressed with words. It echoed in him. But his would likely emerge as a roar that would possibly scare her. So he leashed it, lest it consume them both.
His lips were reluctant to abandon the sweet haven of her mouth, but the smoothness of her skin called to him. Making him nostalgic for a hint of her fragrance, that heavenly blend of violets and secrets. Charting a course over her downy cheek, he skated his mouth down the elegant column of her neck.
Her head tilted to the side, opening herself to him, presenting her most vulnerable part to the ravages of his mouth. The tip of his tongue darted out to paint a swirl right under her ear, and he gloated in the soft sigh that rewarded his exploration. Inhaling deep, he filled his lungs with her fragrance, breathing her in. Letting her essence fill all the empty places inside him.
Her hands tightened on the edges of his waistcoat and she pushed. For an agonized moment, he thought she was pushing him away, and every fiber of his body tensed in protest. Not yet. Just a bit more. He hadn’t had enough. The gaping chasm of his long suppressed need had not been satisfied yet. But he suspected an entire lifetime would not be enough to satisfy it.
