He didn’t look convinced.
“Besides, I have things to do,” she said quickly.
“You can’t do other things whilst entertaining at the pianoforte,” he pointed out.
“That’s just at night. During the day, I’vesomany activities planned, I’d need to double myself to have a prayer of seeing them all. Oh, nothere,” she assured him. “All of the fun things are happening out in the village.”
“As the host of this party,” he said, “I should be offended by such a statement.”
“As a guest of this party,” she replied, “I should be offended that it’s true.”
He glared at her.
She grinned at him.
“Come with me,” she said impulsively.
To her surprise, he looked tempted. “I can’t. I’m the host. I’m stuck here every second of every day.”
“Do you always do what you’re supposed to do?”
“Yes,” he answered simply.
She patted his hand. “That’s too bad.”
“Almostalways.” He trapped her hand in his.
She stared at him.
He lifted her fingers to his lips. Slowly. Deliberately.
This time, he wasn’t playacting at charades for an audience.
This time, his actions were for her.
“Are we reenacting the moment?” she asked. She meant her tone to be flippant, but instead it sounded eager and unsteady. “Should I smash your hands to my breasts next?”
“I am exceedingly amenable to that suggestion,” he said. “But first...”
He lowered her palm to his heart and angled his head until his mouth hovered a mere breath above hers. “May I kiss you?”
“Be quick,” she whispered. “I have things to do.”
“No. You havethis.”
And he kissed her.
His lips were soft and firm, at first gentle, then more demanding.
He hadn’t been stalling, she realized. He’d been containing himself. Wrapping himself tight in the should-dos because to cut the strings that tied his hands...
Would lead to moments likethis.
This wasn’t one kiss. It was ten.
A hundred kisses.
Her fingers were no longer splayed on his chest, but diving into his hair, clutching him to her. He showed no sign of letting go.
