Then…
A shift in the air behind him.
“My lord—” A pause. “Er… my apologies.”
The door closed at once.
Gideon eased his mouth from hers. Just barely. Only far enough to breathe while the world came back into focus.
The public street. The morning sunlight. His house.
And Gideon—embracing her in full view of anyone who might happen upon them.
Still, he did not release her. For a moment, neither of them moved.
“You had better come inside.” His words broke the spell.
Gideon released her only enough to turn toward the door, his hand settling at her back as he guided her over the threshold.
The door closed behind them.
And still her lungs refused to cooperate.
He had kissed her. Mon Dieu.
Her lips still tingled from it. Her fingers curled, still wanting the feel of him. His coat. His hair. The solid line of his jaw beneath her touch.
And now, she was inside his house.
She had come here before, when she’d asked him to teach the lessons. She had sat in his drawing room and spoken quite sensibly about practical matters.
This did not feel sensible.
“My lady,” the butler said, as though this were an ordinary call at a respectable hour. As though he had not just opened the door to find her unapologetically clinging to his employer.
Beatrice unfastened the top clasp of her cloak and handed the garment to the butler with as much composure as she could manage.
Her hands were not quite steady.
All the while, Gideon stood beside her silently.
He had invited her inside.
But why?
To kiss her again? To apologize?
Or worse? To tell her he had forgotten himself. To wrap that devastating mouth around words like honor and restraint and ought not until she wanted to strangle him?
Her mind raced, tripping over one dreadful possibility after another.
And through all of them, one thought remained unbearably clear.
She wanted him to kiss her again.
By the time he led her into the drawing room, Gideon seemed to have recovered himself mostly, but Beatrice…
Had not.
