That left Graham and Ursula alone. The clock on the mantelpiece ticked out the minutes before Graham spoke.
“I shall leave at once, if you prefer,” he said, his gaze boring into her. “If you are tired, or simply do not wish…”
“No,” Ursula said, a little too quickly. “No, I… I should like you to stay. If you wish, of course.”
He held her gaze for a long moment, and Ursula compelled herself not to look away. At last, he gave a slow, wry smile.
“Very well. Here, I brought a very fine Bordeaux from the cellars. I would have brought up glasses, but I noticed that poor Richards was in the process of polishing them all, and I simply couldn’t bring myself to smudge even two of them with fingerprints. I know, I know, I am dreadfully sentimental.”
Ursula offered a smile. “Sentimental men are very pleasant creatures.”
He grinned. “I am delighted to hear your sentiments.”
“But how exactly shall we drink the wine?”
Holding her gaze, he put the rim of the bottle to his lips and tipped it up, taking a long swig. When he pulled the bottle away, there was a muffledpopas his lips separated from the rim.
“Like so,” he responded coolly. “Here.”
Ursula accepted the proffered bottle with curiosity and a little trepidation. She had not, of course, ever drunk wine directly from a bottle before. No lady ever would, and no gentleman would do so in company. She placed her lips to the bottle’s rim and drank.
A rich, earthy wine poured over her tongue. Despite her best efforts, trickles of wine escaped the corners of her mouth, and she blotted them with her sleeve without thinking.
“Oh, good gracious,” she mumbled, staring at the red stain on her sleeve. “Ruthie is going to hate me.”
“Ruthie doesn’t hate anyone,” Graham responded with a grin. He took a step closer, then seemed to think better of it and moved towards the fire. “Come, let’s sit down.”
He seated himself at the bottom of thechaise longueand gestured for Ursula to take the place near the top. She did so, taking another gulp of wine to steady her nerves. The heat had returned to her belly, coursing around her body.
“I would like you to be happy, Ursula,” Graham said at last, staring into the fire. “Neither of us have entered this matrimony with the correct motives, but that’s hardly a rare sin, is it?”
“It is not,” Ursula acknowledged. There wasn’t much room on thechaise, and her shoulder brushed his. She felt as though the warmth of his skin was burning into hers.
Abruptly, Graham turned to face her, and she mirrored him. His grey eyes were almost black in the firelight, and she felt her breath catch in her throat.
Slowly, tentatively, as if he feared that she might pull away, Graham reached up to cup her cheek, and Ursula’s breath caught again in her throat.
He leaned forward ever so slowly as though she were easily startled, and then he claimed a kiss.
The kiss was strange, a new sensation, but a thoroughly pleasant one. His lips were warm, as she’d imagined, and tasted of wine – she suspected hehadtaken a few gulps from the bottle, then, before approaching her room. He tilted his head so that their lips fitted together better, and his fingertips of his other hand grazed the side of her ribs.
The touch lingered in the strangest way, even though it was the lightest, most gentle touch one could have imagined. Without knowing what she was doing, Ursula lifted her arms and wrapped them around his shoulders. The kiss deepened, and she was a little shocked to feel the tip of Graham’s tongue darting across her lower lip. She opened her mouth, acting on her instinct and tasted is tongue as it slide briefly inside.
Suddenly Ursula felt his palm on her thigh, warm and firm. The heat shot through her, tingling in her gut and plunging even lower, into the join of her legs.
He broke the kiss, and Ursula found herself gasping for breath. Had she been holding her breath the whole time? He shifted, pressing his lips to the sensitive skin at the side of her neck, and she shivered, tightening her grip on his shoulders.
There was a gentle tug at the skirt of her nightgown, and that was all the warning Ursula felt before Graham’s warm fingertips skimmed the curve of her knee.
Ursula felt as though she were entering some sort of feverish daze. The fear had disappeared entirely, and she found, to her amazement, that she wanted nothing more than Graham to continue touching her in this way. He pressed forward, just a little, tilting her back until she rested against the curve of thechaise.
His hand shifted higher and higher, with Ursula’s heart seeming to beat faster in time with it, until his knuckles brushed the join of her legs, and she flinched, gasping aloud.
Lady Smythe , it appeared, had hit upon a truth. The feeling which rushed through Ursula was not something she had ever felt before. It was difficult to describe, the beginning of something thrilling, and she knew without a shadow of a doubt that if he could just continue touching her, kissing her…
“Graham,” she gasped, groping the words to ask for something which she did not fully understand. “I…”
And just like that, he tore himself away from her, tugging his hand out from under her night gown. He backed away, flushed and red-faced, hair dishevelled.
