The warmth in her chest spread, concentrating first in her heart, then low in her belly, where it pulsed and thrummed in a most distracting manner.
“What were you able to see? Anything in particular?”
“Stars. Bright, shiny, twinkling stars that I could practically touch.”
He straightened and moved to stand behind her, the heat from his body like a lovely cocoon. “Hold this, if you please.”
His arms came around her, effectively bracketing her in as one of his hands grasped the telescope while the other pressed the snifter toward her.
She took the glass with both hands and held it to her chest. Breathing the smoky, sweet fumes tickled her belly in an oddly pleasurable way.
Behind her, he bent, lowering his head to her right shoulder, then drew the sight of the scope to his eye.
Slowly, so as not to alert him, she turned her head. His face, his mouth, was so close. Close enough, his exhale tickled the fine hairs on her cheek.
Drawing a full breath became nigh on impossible. She held herself still—as still as her rapid pulse would allow. Yearning to twine her arms around his neck, to draw his mouth to hers as she had last night, left her almost dizzy. Her entire body trembled with the force of her desire.
“Do you know the constellations?”
“More or less,” she replied.
His focus slipped, then, as if he’d just realized she was staring at him. He turned his face toward hers.
Her breath froze in her lungs as a desperate wish took hold of her that he would kiss her, as she had kissed him last night.
A timeless moment ticked by, where she would almost swear his gaze locked on her mouth. Then, he exhaled heavily and resumed fiddling with the telescope.
She faced forward, pinching her eyes closed.
“After my grandfather taught me all the constellations, along with their mythology, he brought me here, where, thanks to the absence of smog and city lights which abound in London, one can study the stars. Ah, there you are,” he drawled.
Without warning, he pulled the snifter, half forgotten, from her grasp and touched the cold crystal to her lips. The gloved fingers of his other hand cradled her jaw, tilting her head back slightly, silently urging her to sip.
She did. The brandy--only her second time drinking the spirit--burned a path to her belly.
In the next instant, he removed the glass, crouching to set it aside. Then he grasped one of her shoulders, guiding her to stand just so. “Take a look,” he said, lifting her hand to the telescope. “You won’t dislodge it. I’ve locked it in place.”
The low rumble of his voice in her ear curled through her like smoke. She bit her lip to stifle the whimper trying to emerge from her throat as everything in her went hot and weak in the most wonderful way.
Then she gazed through the sight—and beheld a wondrous scene. “It looks like…Orion?”
“The hunter, yes,” he agreed, a smile evident in his voice. “Do you see his belt?”
“The three stars? I do,” she said, not bothering to hide her excitement.
“What about his sword?”
“That misty patch? I see it,” she practically squeaked.
“According to Greek mythology, Orion was a boastful hunter whom the gods placed in the sky after his death, forever to pursue the seven sisters across the sky. I’ll show them to you another night.”
Another night.Tears leaked from her eyes—this time, born of exquisite joy and the kindness he showed her, which she did not deserve. “Thank you,” she choked.
He gripped her shoulders, squeezing gently in silent acknowledgment. A moment later, his hands fell away, and the heat from his body dissipated.
He’d moved away from her. Even so, she waited several seconds before turning to face him.
He stood a good two arm’s lengths from her. The light from the lamp barely illuminated him. Certainly, she could not make out his expression. But his stillness, his rigid posture, his hands fisted at his sides evidenced his strain.
