Page 65 of Lady Arabella’s Reluctant Hero

But all she did was part her lips. It was necessary for survival because getting enough air had become increasingly difficult. But John took it for the signal it was. With a growl, he dipped his head until his lips fitted over hers.

Unlike that first kiss which was hungry and desperate—the passionate and ill-considered aftereffect of a near-death accident—this was the opposite. Slow and almost leisurely, he kissed her with intent.

His lips brushed over hers with ever more lingering caresses as if he was savoring the taste of her, learning the feel of her. His hand moved from her chin to her cheek and then threaded into her hair, holding her close.

Not that she was going anywhere. With every kiss, she felt her knees weaken and her ability to stand upright flee. Before long she was resting against him, his solid warmth holding her upright, one of his arms wrapped around her waist for much-needed support.

She wasn't sure how long they stayed like that because his kisses made her thinking hazy until at some point—her thoughts stopped entirely. And then there was only John. His warmth, and his touch, and the sweet relief of being held in his arms.

Perhaps it was the easing of the rain that brought them back to reality. The heavy thud turned to a pattering of drops and then it grew utterly quiet.

Only then did John lift his head, his eyes dark as he gazed down at her. "A fortnight?" he murmured.

She felt a smile tug at her lips. A fortnight until her freedom.

A fortnight and then…

This could be real.

With a little laugh, she leaned forward and dropped her forehead to his shoulder. This feeling of shyness was new and she let herself hide for a moment.

But she nodded and murmured against his chest, "A fortnight."

21

John had to cup a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh as he sank back in his armchair later that night.

Thea was attempting to teach Lucy to play chess, and…it was not going well. Arabella sat with them, but she was decidedly not helping.

"The knight," Thea said, holding up the piece for a third time. "It moves in an L-shape. Two squares in one direction, then one square perpendicular."

Lucy squinted at it. "If it's a horse, why don't we just call it a horse?"

Thea gave the child a level stare. "Because it is not a horse. It is a knight."

"But it looks like a horse," she insisted.

It was not the first time Lucy had protested the naming of the pieces. Beside her, Arabella pressed her lips into a thin line to stifle a laugh.

"The piece is shaped like a horse, yes, but it represents a mounted knight, you see."

"I see," Lucy said. And then, not without a heaping dose of mischief, she added, "But I'd prefer to call it Horse."

Arabella's attempt at a somber, sincere expression was admirable as she nodded. "I'm with her. If the thing looks like a horse and is shaped like a horse, calling it a knight is needlessly complicated."

Thea looked to the ceiling. Arabella and Lucy exchanged the look—the one John had been witnessing all week. It was a shared glance of perfect understanding that said, very clearly, they were highly amused by themselves and having a lovely time.

They were, he realized, baiting her.

All in good fun, of course. But poor Thea, who could calculate a year's crop yield from a single page of the estate ledgers, had not yet caught on.

John was watching all of this from across the room, where he sat with Kit and Clarissa near the fire. Or rather, he was watching Arabella. He had been watching Arabella for approximately twenty minutes, and he suspected from the way Kit kept clearing his throat that his attentiveness had not gone unnoticed.

"You're staring," Clarissa murmured.

He didn't look away from Arabella even as he shot back, "I am not staring."

He was. They all knew he was. And for some reason, he was oddly delighted that he no longer felt compelled to hide it.