“Yes, I suppose we should,” he said dutifully, but neither of them moved. Aaran had never known that a woman could smell so delightful. Assuredly, he had admired the perfume first one woman chose and then another, but Lady Freya did not smell of lavender or of roses. She smelled of something fresh, but something he could not name. He desperately wanted to pull her into his arms—to convince her that he was the one who would protect her from the future she feared. He, most assuredly, should be driving such thoughts from his mind. However, therewere so many things about this particular woman which enticed him. She made him feel alive. Whole. Valued.
Aaran was lost in his thought of what might have been when she turned to ask, “When we were on the hillside, before your brother returned and the person shot at us, why did you kiss me?” She caressed his chin as if remembering that moment as intensely as he now did.
“You needed to be kissed, and, in that moment, I required it more than my next breath,” he admitted.
“But you did not desire it?” she asked.
“I desired it,” Aaran assured.
“Desired it enough to kiss me again?” she whispered into the stillness. “Kiss me, Aaran, as if you desire me. Do not send me off to Sir Patrick with knowing nothing of tenderness. Knowing nothing of how a man should treat a woman.”
Inhaling the ragged breath filling his chest, Aaran gathered her into his arms, while Freya linked her fingers behind his waist and burrowed into his chest.
He caught her neck with one hand and tipped her head back—adjusting his hold with his fingertips and framing her face with both hands. His mouth folded over hers, teasing her lips with his tongue until she relaxed and leaned into him. Something lit in her as easily as the match he used on the rolled paper to light the fire burning in the grate. They kissed and kissed—a beacon to chase away the darkness they were both to know in their futures. When Aaran broke their connection, though still breathing heavily, Lady Freya rose on her toes to press her lips to his again.
He touched his tongue to the seam of her lips and she opened for him. Aaran deepened the kiss, their tongues battling for more. Attempting to keep control, he slid his tongue along her bottom lip, stroking it with the heat of his mouth. For a few sweet minutes, sensuality clawed at them, as they exploredeach other’s mouths. Finally, with a groan of self-discipline and desire, he pulled his mouth from hers. His hands still caressed her neck as he looked down into her wide blue eyes.
Lady Freya tightened her arms about his waist and nestled into his body, resting her ear against his chest, as if she wished to hear the beat of his heart.
“Are you well?” he asked.
“Wonderful,” she admitted with a sigh and small smile, as he set her from him, and, like it or not, Aaran’s member hardened more than it already was.
“Let us see if your room is warm enough for sleeping,” he instructed and took a small step back so he could adjust his robe over his male parts.
Disappointment crossed her features, but Aaran knew his actions were what was necessary, though he did not like them any more than she did. He gestured towards the connected dressing rooms, and she led the way. When they reached her quarters, she paused to look up at him. “You have been very kind to me, my lord. I do apologize for attempting to circumvent your will. I thought…”
“I know, my girl. If I may say so without giving you false hope, if it were my choice, you would be in my bed right this moment and tomorrow we would be headed to Scotland to marry without your father’s consent,” he said with a startling conviction. Like it or not, Aaran had presented this particular woman his heart, even if he could not offer for her. He leaned forward to kiss her forehead. “Now, lock the door and under no circumstances are you to open it to me again. The door to the hallway, as well.”
Tears were in her eyes as she moved to act as he instructed. “Good evening, my lord.”
“Good evening, Lady Freya.”
Thompson was alreadyin the morning room when Aaran came downstairs some six hours later. It had taken him forever to calm his desires in order to claim his sleep, but even then Lady Freya filled each of his dreams. Aaran suspected it would be a lifetime before he would forget the pleasure of having the woman in his arms. “Good morning,” he said as he motioned for Mr. Boone to pour him a cup of coffee. “Did you sleep well?”
“Counted off the hours,” Thompson admitted. “Brought the child into the room with me. I feared he might think Victoria and I had deserted him.”
Aaran smiled in hearing Thompson’s confession. “Are you confident it was not you who missed Miss Whitchurch? You knew with confidence, if the lady had cold feet she would not leave without the boy.”
Thompson chuckled good-naturedly. “I am quite ready to admit I am thrilled this day has finally arrived.”
“Good for you,” Aaran declared and meant his words.
“Are you sad that Lady Freya is leaving Kent today?” Thompson asked cautiously.
“As I have said repeatedly to anyone who has asked, I do not deny that I am attracted to the lady, but none of you had to contend with your betrothed’s father despising you. Neither Lord Donoghue nor Mr. Whitchurch nor Duncan objected to their daughters’ choice of husbands. Lady Annalise had neither father nor mother to complain. Whereas Lady Freya’s father would rather see his child dead than as my wife. I cannot separate her from family. We all know the pain of such actions.”
“I suppose you are correct,” Thompson conceded. “I just wish for you to know happiness.”
“I will,” Aaran assured. “When God wishes me to claim a family, the Lord will bring the lady and me together.” Aaran paused before he told Thompson something of the hearth issue in Lady Freya’s quarters and his moving her to part of his own suite.
“Such sounds like something Lady Emma might concoct,” Thompson admitted. “I am grieved that I was not aware—had not even considered a last-ditch attempt to bring you and Lady Freya together.”
“I thought it a bit odd that Lady Freya was placed on the same hall as Hartley, Kepper, and me, but I assumed whoever made the arrangement for the lady realized she would only be here Tuesday and Wednesday nights. Tuesday night was much warmer than last evening, especially with all of us being outside in the glade for the fireworks, and on Tuesday, if I understand it correctly, she used your mother’s suite, as Mrs. Thompson would not require it until the wedding supper.”
Thompson looked to his butler. “Were you aware of this, Mr. Boone?”
“No, my lord, but I will speak to all belowstairs who were involved,” the butler assured.
