And then, he found her lips.
The first touch was delicate, the tenderest of tests. He drew back slightly, surprised. Fleetingly, he thought of Viv, but Cassandra’s scent kept him tethered to the present, aroused, curious, and attuned to her every breath.
Either he’d forgotten the shocking, enlivening sensations roused by a simple kiss, or he and Cassandra were uniquely suited. He set his lips back into the seam to better judge.Yes. Just a slight stimulation of the fragile skin set his blood boiling. Though he didn’t need any encouragement, her lips parted in further invitation, and he tasted her deeply.
Finally, she fully relinquished caution. She yielded, bringing her neck to rest pliantly against his arm. She was his to explore.
His to devour.
He brought his free hand to her cheek, holding her still, making sure she could feel each bold stroke of his tongue. The sun beat down against his head, his neck. He welcomed the heat, heat as quickening and vital as the fire building in his body.
The sounds she made—guttural, whimpery—only whetted his appetite for more.
His own sound of satisfaction came from deep within. She didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he’d just enough awareness to track her hands as they crept up his shirt, over his collar’s edge and—yes,please—into his hair.
Did she know the light, recurring, patter of her fingers nearly matched the beat of his heart?
Whether she knew or not, her ardent response was stirring. She’d serendipitously found the very lever which, when pressed, would leave him forever vanquished.
Good God.
If he allowed the kissing to continue, he would end up taking his duchess against crumbling steps leading to nowhere, the remnants of an empire his ancestors had unjustly slashed to pieces in the pursuit of greed.
Worse still, he’d be claiming her on the site where he’d often wooed another.
Shame blossomed, an ugly, thorned weed in his mind. A rush of cold awareness shocked him, and he broke contact.
And he’d thought kissing her on their wedding night a sign of disrespect!
Bringing her to his special place with Viv, wooing her in the same fashion in the same haunting ruin, had been much worse.
She continued to clutch his neck as she made a sound of protest.Her eyes were dazed, her head heavy against his arm.
Ah, Cassandra.
She deserved so much better.
To cover his unease, he flashed an uncertain smile. “Was that comparable to your dream?”
“That”—she sighed—“was a little better than my dream.”
“Proper?”
She nodded.
“Good.” His voice could be a little less hoarse, but what could he do? “We’ve a lifetime to practice, but the horses…”
“The horses!” She pulled away. “Oh, my goodness, I’d forgotten all about the horses. They’ll be uncomfortable by now, poor things.”
“You’re so very good.” He tucked a lock of hair back into her coiffure. He wanted to apologize, but then she would want to know why, and he just couldn’t bring himself to ruin what had been such a revelatory kiss.
For her, too, he suspected. When he moved to tie the ribbons beneath her chin, he saw that her fingers were shaking.
“Allow me,” he said.
She stilled. Hesitantly, she raised her chin. He tied a gentle knot. Not as pretty, of course, as she might have done, but solid enough to keep the bonnet secure.
Then, he braced himself against the wall and stood, carefully stepping to the center, so when she rose, she would be on the wider part of the stair. Once she was fully on her feet, he stepped down and offered her his hand. She curled her fingers around his and did not let go as they made their way back through the wood.
