And now her father had a wife who was young and healthy, something her mother had never been in Lyssa’s memory. No wonder she was jealous of her stepmother.
“Would you kiss me?”
Ian shook his head, thinking he’d imagined her words.
She sat up and faced him. “Would you?” she prodded.
“Are you serious?”
Her expressive widened. “Yes.” There was a pause and she added, “I think I am.”
“Why?” The word flew from his mouth before he could stop it.
Her cheeks darkened with color. She dropped her gaze and then said, “Because the only kiss I’ve ever had was that terrible one from Mr. Anderson.”
Ian frowned. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Well, you shouldn’t.” She pulled out a handful of grass, her fingers twisting the blades into rope. “I mean, I’ve received a peck or two. When Robert asked for my hand and my father gave it to him, he kissed my cheek.”
“And what did you do?” Ian asked, curious.
“Initially? Nothing.” She dropped her grass and dusted her fingers lightly before adding, “Later, I washed my cheek.”
Thatwas the answer he’d wanted to hear. And still, like a doubting fool, he hedged. “So why would you want a kiss from me?”
“Because you must know how to kiss. You seemed to be doing a good job of it earlier. Or so one would believe from the response you received.” She placed her hand on his thigh, a bold move that was counterbalanced by the timidity in her wide eyes.
Suddenly uncertain, he said, “Miss Harrell—”
“Lyssa.”
“Lyssa,” he repeated, drawing out the syllables. Her fingers were inches from his groin and he was having trouble thinking, since all the blood seemed to have left his brain and was now centered in his very strong erection.
If she noticed, she gave no sign.
Instead, she leaned close. “I’m three and twenty,” she whispered, “and on the shelf, or so my stepmother tells me. After mother died, father and I spent three years wrapped in grief. But he recovered. I was twenty, Ian. My mother had been ill most ofmy life and I was already old in more ways than age. Then Papa met his duchess and married and I was forced to go out into Society. Do you know how awkward I felt? There were so many rules I had to learn and everything I did seemed to be wrong. Whereas my stepmother knew everything and everyone. She was graceful and poised, and I felt old.”
“You are not old.”
“There were girls younger than myself who were already matrons with babies—”
“Not many,” he corrected.
“More than enough,” she said. “And here I was, not even knowing how to flirt.”
“You know more than you realize,” he answered carefully, his heart pounding in his ears.
“I don’t know how to kiss like you were kissing the widow. I don’t know how to kiss at all, and I do want to learn.” She punctuated her words by moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue, and Ian almost groaned aloud.
Here was the first sign that she saw him as a man…and the opportunity to taste her was very tempting.
“Please?” she asked prettily and closed her eyes, offering herself to him.
All Ian had to do was press his lips to hers and nature would take its course. What he’d give to have her body against his. Her nipples had tightened and he yearned to feel the weight of herbreasts in his hands. Mary Potter had been a poor substitute for what he really wanted, what he ached for. What he could have right now if he would only take advantage—
Gently, he moved her hand from his thigh, placing it on the ground between them and holding it in place with his palm.Dear God in Heaven, he was going to regret this.
Her eyes fluttered open. Her brows came together in a question.
