Page 49 of Just a Little Daring

“Je vais tuer le fou!”

“There’s no need to kill him,” she said, smiling at him and laying a reassuring hand on his arm. “Though I appreciate the sentiment. He was quite sweet, only…. Oh, I don’t know, Louis. I just felt nothing at all. Was it me? Did I do something wrong?”

“Non!” he retorted, struggling to regain his composure before he did or said something he ought not. “No, you did nothing wrong. You felt nothing because this man means nothing to you. He is just a thoughtless boy who does not know how to go about such things. This is the trouble with very young men. They know nothing but act like they know everything and—”

“Louis,” Evie said, interrupting him, her voice gentle. “It’s all right. I’m not upset, I was just rather underwhelmed, that’s all. Was your first kiss like that too, then? Or was it special?”

She could have said nothing better calculated to cut through his mounting fury and unbalance him. The memory swept over him like a toxic cloud, revulsion swirling in his gut like acid.

“Louis?” she said again, concern in her voice now.

Louis shook his head. “First kisses are seldom what one would hope for,” he said, pushing the past back into the locked box where he kept it. He had long since learned to compartmentalise things he did not wish to think of, and he had buried deep those days of wretchedness, banishing them to a place so dark they need trouble him no more. He let out a breath and drank in the sight of the woman in front of him, letting her nearness calm him. His Evie. The pain of the past eased away, replaced with a longing to claim the peace she brought him for always.

“What is it, Louis?” she asked, reaching out and taking his hand. The worry in her expression made his throat tight. “You’re awfully pale. What did I say? Do you want to tell me?”

Louis shook his head and managed something that resembled a self-deprecating laugh. Merde, he would never want to burden her with his past. She was too tender-hearted, and the knowledge could only distress her. “Non. It is only the strain of being up at such a lamentable hour of the morning.”

Evie smiled at him but did not look entirely reassured, and Louis cursed himself. He stared down at their linked fingers and returned to the topic they should discuss, easing her concern over that ridiculous kiss.

“This business of first kisses is nothing to fret over,” he said, reaching out and allowing himself the delicious torment of touching the back of his hand to her cheek. Her skin was like warm silk, and he savoured the knowledge, imprinting the moment upon his mind to be remembered over and over again when he was alone. “He was just a foolish boy, snatching an opportunity. Your reaction was inevitable. If you were kissed properly, you would not dislike it, I promise.”

“If you say so,” she said with a sigh.

“Shall I prove it to you?”

Louis knew he ought not to have said it, but he was damned if he’d take the words back. He was putting temptation in his way and threatening everything, but… but how could he not? She was so close. Her scent had invaded his mind and made him reckless. Sweet chamomile. Was that the soap she used? It was delicate and unpretentious, unlike the sophisticated perfumes he had become so heartily sick of.

“Prove it to me?” she repeated, frowning. “How?”

“I could kiss you,” he said, fighting to keep his voice nonchalant. “Just to show you the difference between an ignorant boy and a man who knows what he’s doing.”

Her eyes widened.

Louis thought perhaps his heart stopped beating. He certainly held his breath. If she rejected him out of turn, or found the idea repulsive, he would die of misery.

“All right, then.”

Marie, mère de Dieu. Merci. Mille mercis.

His heart leapt, and he stared at her for a long moment, hardly daring to believe he’d heard her correctly. Her cheeks were pink, but she stared at him unblinking, unafraid, trusting him.

Behave. Behave. Behave.

He repeated the words like a mantra, threatening himself with dire consequences if he took the slightest liberty. The moment hung suspended, as if they had stepped out of time into some other place. Louis caressed her cheek with fingers that were not entirely steady and then tilted her head up. Evie closed her eyes and Louis thought his heart might break the moment was so impossibly sweet. He was undeserving of her trust, surely, but he did not care. He would have this.

Slowly, he leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers, gently, kissing first that full bottom lip, and then that perfect cupid’s bow, and then settling his lips a little firmer upon hers as emotion and desire swept through him, stealing his breath. Mon Dieu. Longing was a searing pain in his chest, the need to share his life, his body, the darkest corners of his soul with this woman, something he could neither explain nor fight. How long must he wait for this to be his alone? He gathered her a little closer, finding no resistance, and had to battle fiercely against the overwhelming desire to pull her against his body and kiss her properly, deeply, with all of his heart and soul, the way he wanted to.

Louis forced himself to draw back. Not stealing another kiss, and then another, and then all her kisses, was undoubtedly the hardest thing he had ever done in his life before, but he was laying the foundations of a future, building a deeper, binding trust between them, which he prayed she would return to when the time was right.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she stared at him, unblinking, lifting her fingers to touch her lips.

“Oh,” she whispered.

“Better?” he asked, wishing he didn’t feel like the rest of his life hung in the balance.

She nodded, the motion a little jerky. “M-Much better.”

Louis let out a breath.