She couldn’t lie. She licked her lips but maintained her frown. “I might have been.” Her reply emerged in as surly a fashion as intended. She might love him, and now she acknowledged the truth of it, but that didn’t make her any less angry with him.
His smile widened and he ignored her frown and tone. “I knew it.”
She deepened the frown into an embryonic scowl. “But now I’mnot so sure. At the moment you asked me, I had no idea you were the sort of idiot who would agree to fight a duel. Forgive me for also being an idiot, but I rather imagined you, as an army officer and a medical man, had more sense than that.” Her scowl deepened further. “And you might claim you are a good shot, but I happen to know that he is as well. I recall Geoffrey telling me so on numerous occasions when they were out after pheasants together.”
And now he was grinning, which was quite ridiculous. Yes, she’d wanted to see him more cheerful, but not for this reason. Those dark eyes twinkled at her as though he didn’t have a care in the world. “Shooting pheasants with a fowling piece is nothing like shooting a man.”
She couldn’t help it. A squeak of horror shot out of her at his casual reference to the possibility of being shot.
His hand shot out and caught hers. “But don’t worry yourself. I have no intention of ending up shot by Sir Julian.”
This was too much. “You have no intention? I can tell you that is not what Sir Julian is thinking. I’ve known that man my entire married life and you may rest assured that he is not the sort to make empty gestures. If he has challenged you to a duel, then he does not intend to delope. He intends to shoot you, possibly to kill you. You will not find him firing into the air in an effort to politely save face.”
Harry gave a shrug as though this didn’t matter a jot to him. Perhaps if one had faced the force of Napoleon’s army, meeting a single man in a duel, was as nothing. But wait, was he actually excited by the prospect? She stamped her foot, aware of how much she must resemble Megs by so doing. “You want me to tell you I love you? Well, how can you possibly do that when you’re prepared to go out and fight a duel and leave me before we even have chance to get to know one another properly? To marry? To love one another?” Her voice rose with each question and to her utmost annoyance she felt tears springing into her eyes. She swiped a hand across them in fury.How could he be so stupid and thoughtless?
For answer, he pulled her towards him and his strong arms went around her. She lifted her face in angry expectation, lips parted, part of her longing to feel his mouth on hers and the other part wanting to slap his face. However, instead of kissing her, he just pressed his cheek against hers. His was raspy with stubble and the feel of it against her skin sent shivers of delightful desire through her before she had to forcibly remind herself she was still furious with him.
“Yes, I do love you,” she said against his ear, his hair tickling her nose. “I love you and I don’t want you to be killed when we’ve only just found one another.”
She felt him smile. “Because otherwise you might have to marry that dreadful bore.”
It wasn’t even a question. She huffed, but didn’t pull away. “You mean because otherwise I shall have to remain a widow for the rest of my life.” She paused. “Nothing would induce me to marry Sir Julian, not even the prospect of being thrown out into the street with nothing, nor if he was the only man left on Earth.”
He chuckled. How was it now he was facing danger he’d transformed from someone who scarcely ever smiled into someone given to throaty, and undeniably attractive, chuckles? Or was it something to do with her? She pulled back a little in his arms and gazed up into his eyes. “Are you not at least a little bit scared?”
He regarded her for a long moment and she became aware that for the first time in her life she was being looked at with smoldering eyes. Eyes that held not just kindness, for Geoffrey had been a kind if not loving man, but also passion. The sensation that he wanted her cascaded down her body and she almost, but not quite, buckled again at the knees. How could a single look turn her insides to water? Set every nerve end tingling? Make her heart bang against her ribs and her breasts heave with every breath she took? She’d never been so aware of a man in her life. She could feel the length of his body from hisbroad chest down the long length of his muscular thighs, all far closer than she’d ever thought to feel them. And everything about him had her wanting far more than the kiss she thought was about to come.
Her tongue darted out to wet suddenly dry lips.
He bent his head.
His mouth hovered over hers, their breath shared. Was he going to kiss her at last? If he did, she feared she might truly swoon this time, and that was something she did not want to do. She wanted to feel every moment of the kiss, to savor it, to make it last forever.
She closed her eyes.
Feather-light, his lips touched hers, and she couldn’t help the little gasp that escaped her, as more than just her insides turned to liquid fire. This was what she’d been wanting for days now, if only she’d admitted it to herself. This was something she’d waited all her life for. Something she’d never dreamed could happen to her.
His kiss deepened and her mouth opened under his, welcoming him in. Their tongues met, and her whole body quivered in the ecstasy of such a longed-for kiss. Was this what it was like to be truly in love? Was this what her body should be experiencing when the man she loved kissed her?
She kissed him back with a fervor born of long years of drought. Her hands came up and she buried her fingers in his thick hair, pulling his face ever closer, never wanting to let him go.
But the kiss had to finish in the end.
Their lips parted but he held her still, looking down into her eyes as though he couldn’t get enough of her. “Is that breakfast still on offer?” he asked, his voice husky with what had to be lust. She was certain of that because she was feeling the same, a deep sensation she’d never had before that could only be slaked in one way.
But she had to remember tomorrow.
She let herself smile, a little tremulously. “It is. Although how you can be thinking of your stomach at a time like this, I don’t know.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Don’t forget I was a soldier. I long since learned to take food when it’s offered even if battle threatens. Although, for the last nearly four months since my injuries I’ve had no appetite to speak of.” He grinned down at her. “You seem to have restored that, at least.”
She frowned. “I suppose I should be glad, but I mislike your slapdash attitude to Sir Julian’s challenge. You can’t just put it out of your head until tomorrow and not think about it.”
He gave an eloquent shrug of his shoulders and released her. “I find there’s little point in dwelling on something that’s inevitable.” And he bent down for the basket as though he didn’t have a care in the world. Some of the mushrooms had fallen out of it when he dropped it and had to be swiftly scooped up again. “Lead on.”
He sounded merry, and the brightness of the new day echoed his words, but Miranda couldn’t keep that fear out of her mind. The fear that this might be the only day she would ever have with him.
Let it be a good day.
