Page 50 of Appointment in Bath

She smelled of rose water. Of snowflakes, starched petticoats, and the faint fragrance of the orange she’d eaten for breakfast. He tasted it on her lips. Both sweet and citrus tart.

His hands slid up to her waist. The bones of her riding stays creaked beneath the press of his fingers as he kissed her again, drawing another trembling sigh from her lips.

The soft curve of her bosom rose and fell against his chest. She gripped tight to his forearms. But she didn’t recoil from him. She received his kiss with every sign of willingness. Of pleasure.

Two kisses might have led to three or more if Ivo hadn’t regained mastery of himself. Drawing back, he pressed his cheek to hers as he caught his breath. The silkiness of her skin sent another rush of heat through his veins.

“Have I presumed too much?” He huffed an unsteady laugh. “Don’t answer that. I know I have.”

“I d-don’t mind.”

“I mind. This isn’t why—” He stopped himself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so—”

Bloody hell.

He cursed his own inarticulateness. Had she any idea how that kiss had affected him? He suspected not. She was far too innocent.

“It’s all right.” Her hand fluttered to his jaw in a brief, conciliatory gesture. Her touch was infinitely gentle.

Ivo wished suddenly that he could feel the naked press of her fingers against his cheek. He was tempted—frighteningly tempted—to take hold of her hand and strip away her leather glove.

But he’d already dared enough.

Anything more and he may as well take himself straight off to Letchford Hall to apply to Sir Frederick for permission to wed his daughter. Indeed, only a rogue would trifle with a girl this way if he didn’t intend to marry her.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. This time, by some miracle, he managed to release her. Retreating several steps, he raked a hand through his hair. “I must blame the mistletoe. Potent stuff, that.”

Meg didn’t reply.

He rambled on, filling up the void between them, not entirely sure what he was saying. “Apparently even more potent in the wild. I haven’t been this affected by the kind that’s been cut, tied, and hung up in a doorway, that’s for certain. It should be made illegal.”

She bent her head.

His conscience was seized with guilt. “Meg—”

“I-I should get back,” she said.

Guilt rapidly gave way to a sense of desperation. He masked it with a cheerful smile. No doubt it looked more like a grimace of pain. “Don’t say I’ve scared you off?”

“N-No,” she said. “Of course n-not.”

He obviously had. He could have kicked himself for it.

After all the progress they’d made together. The friendship they’d developed during their rides and walks and endless conversations. Meg had come to trust him and he’d damaged that fragile trust by taking advantage of her like any scoundrel.

The mistletoe had been but a convenient excuse. The truth was, Ivo had been longing to kiss her for days.

Meg may not know it for a fact, but surely she recognized it on some level. Why else would she be so eager to leave?

She caught hold of Rowena’s bridle. “It’s only m-my father,” she stammered. “I c-can’t miss his appointment with the d-doctor.”

Ivo followed her back to her mare. “What about your ride on Snap?”

She drew up her reins. “Perhaps another d-day.”

He was afraid to touch her again, but there was nothing for it except to help her mount. She couldn’t manage it without his assistance. Taking hold of her waist, he tossed her back up into her sidesaddle as quickly as possible, trying to ignore the tantalizing feel of her.

“When?” he asked.