Page 49 of The Marriage Method

“What else could it be?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Perhaps it’s simply that we like each other.”

Again, he smiled that subtle, dry smile. As though he was amused by her, or by the situation, or perhaps by his own reaction to both. “A remote possibility, surely.”

“Don’t tease me.”

His smile faded. “I don’t know what else to do when you’re standing in front of me like this. When I—” He broke off, turning his attention to some point over her shoulder. He pushed his fingers through his hair. “It’s been a long day. We neither of us are thinking clearly.”

“Miles…”

His gaze returned to hers. There was no humor in it this time, only the same perilous intensity she’d observed in him on the first occasion they’d met. “What do you want from me, Nell? What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “Something.”

He nodded slowly. His jaw hardened, as though he’d come to a decision. “Very well,” he said. “Something it is.”

• • • • •

Miles was a fool to have come to her room. He had known it from the minute he stopped at her door, from the very instant he’d knocked, even as he’d justified it to himself as gentlemanly concern. The fact was, since that taut moment when they’d parted in the dining room, he hadn’t been at all himself. He’d spent the past hours pacing the library, attempting to attend to his correspondence, compiling notes about Cowgill’s disappearance, starting an outline of the facts he’d learned thus far about the Academy, even checking on Shadow, all to no avail. He’d been too restless to settle on any task.

Mrs. Bright had said that adding a new cat to the household sent a charge through the ranks. Miles supposed that adding Nell to the house had put a similar charge through him. He couldn’t get her out of his head. Couldn’t stop imagining what she was doing, what she was thinking. And when he’d entered her room to find her looking so unbearably lovely…

His pretense of concern had been laid bare.

Go, his conscience growled as he stood over her in front of the dwindling fire. Say good night. Take your leave and be done with this madness.

But he didn’t.

He couldn’t.

His hand lifted practically of its own accord to cradle her face. Feeling her tremble beneath his touch, his chest constricted on a rush of raw tenderness. How soft she was beneath all that starch. How delicate and unexpectedly vulnerable. The pad of his thumb moved over the silken curve of her cheek in a slow caress. She took an uneven breath.

And there was no resisting her any longer. Bending his head to hers, Miles kissed her very gently on the lips.

Nell’s dark lashes fluttered closed. She listed toward him, brow puckered with uncertainty. But there was nothing uncertain about the way her voluptuous mouth yielded to his. She softened to him, lips parting just enough to allow their fractured breath to mingle—hot, quick, mutually unsteady.

Miles had never tasted anything so sweet. Everything within him urged him to take more, to deepen the kiss, to touch her and taste her. She was there for the asking. His very own wife, here in his house, very nearly in his arms. What could be more natural? More logical?

He didn’t listen to his impulses. He wasn’t focused on himself. He was focused on Nell.

“All of my learning has been theory rather than practice,” she’d told him.

She knew what a kiss was, clearly, but Miles doubted she’d ever experienced one. He didn’t intend to put her off the business.

His mouth stilled on hers. “There,” he murmured. “Was that something enough?”

She huffed a quavery laugh. He felt it as much as heard it. “Yes,” she said. “Thank you.”

He drew back from her. “Thank you.”

“How formal we’ve become.”

His hand fell from her cheek. “Forgive me if I—”

“No. Don’t apologize.” Her face was as pink as a damask rose. “It’s just…I’ve never been kissed before.”

Miles’s heart hammered against his ribs. He’d known that. Of course he had. It made it no less impactful to hear. “No?”