“There’s no need for shame.” He stretched out his leg, placing a boot next to her skirt. “Not between us. And no, I wasn’t disappointed.”
“I must yield to your greater experience regarding—er—marital relations.” His heat, his nearness became nearly stifling. “There is…more, isn’t there?”
He looked away—back toward the chapel.
She hoped he’d answer and answer honestly. Wasn’t lying in a church worse—however ruined the church appeared?
“I’m not sure what you mean by more.” His Adam’s apple rose before disappearing again beneath his parted collar. His eyes met hers, warmer and brighter now. “I was…pleased.”
Panic bubbled up in her chest. Still, she leaned forward. “Pleased?”
“Yes, pleased.” He fell silent, but his face continued to speak of longing, his posture of reluctant restraint. “And I’d very much like to please you in the same fashion. I will…provided you tell me how I can.”
Kiss me.She could not be so forward. And yet, God help her, his earthy eyes were like magnets, pulling forth the truth.
“I dreamed of you,” she said. “Of us.” She dropped her gaze, studying the weave of the maroon thread in her linen habit…in out, in out. “Last night, I dreamed you came to me and then we…repeated what we’d done. Only, in the dream, you kissed me.” She hesitated. “Properly. As if you couldn’t get enough.”
*
Even though Harburyhad loosened his cravat—generally considered a gross impropriety in front of a lady—he could still barely breathe. He’d untied the damn thing for relief from the heat…but not only just.
Part of him had wanted Cassandra to react, to blush, to give himsomesign he could fluster her—sensually. Until now, she had not given him any verbal indication she desired him. But not only had she just acknowledged her attraction, physical signs of her arousal showed in her blush, in her damp and slightly parted lips, and in her hitched breath.
Once again, she’d upped the ante. And he was totally unprepared.
He’d brought her here simply to make her smile. Now, he wanted more.
She’ddreamtof him last night. He tried and failed to wrap his mind around the magnitude of her confession, while knowing he’d done more than dream of her. He’d emptied himself into a rag with a body-shaking, silent release.
Twice.
Only then had he been able to fall into a short and restless sleep.
He put his finger beneath her chin and raised her face. “Are you asking me to kiss you?”
“You must have some experience.”
He’dsomeexperience, if not the depth of carnal knowledge she believed.
Most of his experience had happened here, in the long, thin antechamber still completely intact, but for the roof. He’d been infinitely relieved Cassandra had headed for the stairs instead of taking refuge inwhat remained of the buttresses on the opposite side of the ruins.
Had he intended to seduce his wife into kissing, he would have chosen a more private and less fraught location. Though his love of this place long preceded his clandestine meetings with Vivianne, he did not think Cassandra would appreciate knowing his history here.
An innocent mistake, but, he feared, a bad one.
Should he tell his wife the truth?
Tell her he hadn’t any more true experience of carnal knowledge than she did? Tell her how what they’d done together had knitted her into his mind and shifted everything he’d believed was solid, including the very earth beneath his feet?
Even here, where memories of Viv were too close, she’d become the brighter star.
Should he confess he’d brought her here only because he’d wanted more of her smiles? Confess, too, that though she hadn’t been the first person he’d wooed in these ruins, he now knew he wanted her to be the last. What better place to confess than a former Roman church?
But if he told her he’d brought Viv to this same place, this moment would end.
Confession, at present, would not be in his best interests. At least not in the best interests of the parts of him asserting increasing control.
She’d mentioned kissing.
