Unless he was mistaken, which was likely since he hadn’t had any human contact in the past years, her gaze wasn’t the same disgusted one as Quentin or the maids gave him. Or perhaps it was her artist’s eye interested in him.
“Don’t you feel cold?” She tugged at her velvet-rimmed cloak.
“A little, but I like it. It makes me feel...something.” He must have said something inappropriate because she lowered her gaze. “Why are you upset?”
“I can only imagine how difficult it’s for you to get used to London after years away from the city.” She put her gloved hand on his, and his whole body tightened in anticipation. “I’m here because I need to talk to you. Shall we sit somewhere?”
The gravity in her tone distracted him from her touch.
“Of course.” He dropped himself to the ground and crossed his legs, waiting for her to join him.
She burst out laughing, which he loved. From his low point of view, he could admire her slender body, lovely chin, and the way her dark curls brushed against her cheeks. So beautiful. So kind. He was lucky to have met her. He was lucky she’d found him.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh.” Her shoulders shook with laughter.
“By all means, you should. You look even more lovely when you laugh.” His comment sobered her in a moment. Oh, right. Gentlemen didn’t compliment ladies. How silly.
“I mean, can we sit inside on a sofa or chairs? It’s chilly for me here and I don’t want to soil my clothes with dry leaves and mud.” She smoothed her mauve skirt. “This is one of my best dresses, and my maid works hard to keep it spotless.”
“Fair enough.” He sprang up to his feet, miscalculating the distance between them.
Or maybe he did it on purpose without realising it. He ended up an inch from her. So close her breasts pressed against his chest. She didn’t step away, though. He drew in a breath that brought her lavender scent to him.
“I want to kiss you again.” He suppressed the urge to caress her bottom lip.
She flushed but didn’t move. “Where they can’t see us.”
He took her hand and led her behind the tall hedgerow he had so promptly disparaged a few days ago. But now he thanked Quentin and his bloody Continental taste.
She giggled when he pulled her closer to the shadows. The green plant blocked the view of the house. On the other side, the brick wall shielded them from the street. He would protect her from everything else.
She tilted her head up, her plush lips inviting. “I want to kiss you, too.”
He dipped his head and kissed her, closing his eyes and thanking every angel for granting him his wish. She pressed her body against his, raising on her toes. He coiled an arm around her waist and held her up, taking her weight. Holding his breath, he parted his lips and tentatively ran the tip of his tongue over the seam of her lips. A burst of pure happiness exploded within him when she opened her mouth and welcomed him inside. The first time he’d kissed her, he hadn’t dared to deepen the kiss. But now kissing her properly was a necessity.
He stroked her velvety tongue with his, hardly believing she let him do it. She sagged against him and returned the caress with a timid stroke of her tongue. No, he wasn’t numb anymore. Every inch of his body was ablaze with emotion, and it wasn’t only a matter of sexual arousal—although it was present, judging by the stirring in his breeches. He was...happy to kiss and hold her in his arms. The world, with its crazy rules and uncomfortable clothes, made sense when she was with him. He was bold enough to bring a hand up and brush his thumb against the underside of her breast. Even through the fabric of her coat, the soft shape of her breast was clear. She drew in a sharp breath that made him pause. Was he too bold? Loud voices from the house jolted her.
She withdrew. Yet the sensation of her closeness remained on his skin like a warm blanket.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“What for? You did nothing wrong.” Her cheeks were the colour of ripe strawberries. Even her lips were bright red from the kiss.
He wasn’t sure he hadn’t done anything wrong. He wanted to give her the best kiss she’d ever experienced. Instead, his kisses were likely clumsy and boring.
“Did you enjoy it?”
She touched his hand with a delicate, gloved finger. “Very much.” An emerald fire glowed in the depths of her gaze.
He wanted to kiss her again, unbutton her shirt, and kiss every inch of her skin. But even if he wasn’t a proper gentleman, he knew better. They needed time.
“Let’s go inside.” He offered her his arm and felt a foot taller when she took it.
They walked to the house in silence. He found out people needed to fill every moment with chatter or noise. He was happy to listen to her breathing and the soft sound of her footsteps.
The maid gasped and almost dropped a carafe of water when he entered. He didn’t care about her reaction. Maddie didn’t gasp when she saw him and even accepted his arm. He could face the whole ton without flinching when she was at his side.
They sat down in the parlour at the same time. She narrowed her eyes at him briefly. Oh, right. Ladies first, gentlemen after. It was amazing how rules and behaviours that had been second nature for him could be forgotten. Perhaps because they didn’t matter that much, especially on an island where the monkeys’ idea of good manners was throwing fruit stones at him.
