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Chapter Five
Hermione had never been kissed before. With the stranger’s lips against hers, she didn’t want to pull away. It was insistent at first, with just his lips pressing on hers, but when she didn’t recoil away, he changed the kiss. He began to move his lips against hers, and Hermione responded, mirroring the action as the excitement that had been in her stomach before erupted into a pure thrill.
When his hands moved to her waist, she was only aware of the tingles it sent across her back, making her spine shiver. Then, with his hands, he pulled her up from the chair, until she was standing and pressed against him. He was tall, much taller than she, with his face angled down to her.
Each move of his lips on hers made the thrill simply become more enthralling to her until she felt his hand slide further across her waist toward her back. It became even more intimate then with her chest flush against his.
What am I doing!?
Furious she had allowed such a lapse in judgement, that the excitement of their conversation had actually transpired into a kiss, she shoved him hard in the chest, forcing him away from her. He stumbled back, releasing her completely. The loss of his warmth was instant, leaving her bereft.
Hermione covered her mouth with one hand, caught somewhere between marveling at the tingles the stranger had caused and the horror of what had just happened.
I am truly a ruined woman now.
“I think you won our game,” she said tartly as she lowered her hand. He was still smiling at her, but it only infuriated her more. “That does not make this moment your victory.” Her words made his smile falter. She hoped he understood her meaning, that in his determination to win their game, he had actually compromised her honor.
She ran around the chair in the effort to be away from him and sprinted for the doorway, not caring that she had left the book behind her. In London, everyone thought she was a damaged woman, brought low, but now it seemed she had taken her first step in actually becoming the woman they all thought she was.
She had kissed a man out of wedlock. Worse than that, she had kissed a member of staff. She had been alone with him in the library of a Duke. It was all too awful to put into words! Had anyone seen them together, she would be cast aside for good. Her reputation that was already tarnished would well and truly be in tatters.
She ran through the corridor toward the staircase and took the stairs two at a time in her haste to be far away from the stranger as quickly as possible. When she found her chamber, she hurried inside, leaning her back on the door and breathing heavily, uncertain whether she was trying to catch her breath from the run or from the excitement of the kiss.
“Hermione?”
“Ah!” she called out, jumping as she whipped her head round.
“It’s only me,” Phoebe said from where she sat on the far side of the room. “I couldn’t retire to bed yet. I had to find out how it went.”
Hermione placed a hand to her chest, trying to slow her breath. She loved her sister dearly and part of her wanted to confide in Phoebe everything that had just happened. Yet, she knew she could not. Phoebe’s chance of happiness and a life not as a spinster depended on Hermione seducing the Duke. How would she feel to know Hermione had ruined her reputation again? Phoebe’s happiness hung in the balance.
“I didn’t see him,” Hermione said as she crossed the room toward her sister.
“Oh, good,” Phoebe smiled. “I do think it best you meet in the daylight. Are you all right? You look a little…” she paused as Hermione sat on the end of the bed.
“A little what?” Hermione asked.
“Well, shaken,” Phoebe explained, gesturing to her. “Did something happen?”
“No,” Hermione said quickly, trying to pin a false smile in place. “I was just reading a gothic novel in the library. I fell asleep and woke with a nightmare.”
“You shouldn’t read so many of those books,” Phoebe said sweetly, standing and crossing toward her to place a hand on her shoulder in comfort. “They get in your head. In a place as spooky as this, it will only be worse.”
“Yes, you are right,” Hermione said without genuinely meaning the words, merely relieved that Phoebe had not seen through her lie.
“I’ll leave you now. I best retire and get some sleep before we meet the Duke tomorrow. Good night, Hermione.”
“Sweet dreams, Phoebe,” Hermione said to her sister before Phoebe disappeared through the door and left her in peace. The moment she was alone, she slumped back on the bed with her arms out to the side and stared up at the plaster ceiling.
As her eyes traced the plasterwork that had been molded to resemble the ocean and the cliffs from the bay nearby, her mind went back to what had just happened in the library. She lifted one of her hands and touched her lips, tracing exactly where the stranger had kissed her. Even now, she could feel the tingling sensation he had caused and the thrill too.
“Stop it,” she murmured to herself and let her hand drop back to the bed. She closed her eyes, blocking out the view of the plasterwork, and tried to concentrate on rational thought. “I am here to do a task. For Phoebe’s sake, I must do this. I have to charm a Duke and not succumb to the advances of a servant.”
As tempting as the idea to see the man again was, it would only risk her reputation more. She had to resolve upon a course of action. She couldn’t go back to the library alone, and whenever she saw him wandering through the house, she would have to ensure there were others with her, or she would have to avoid him entirely.
Even as she made the resolution, she felt something in her chest object. She lifted a hand to the locket round her neck, playing with the pendant another time. It was a memento of the pain that was already passed, and she clung to it as she thought of how cruel the world was to give her a man that she was attracted to but could never kiss again.
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