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“I hope, asyourhost, you’re not going to harm me, either,” he joked. “Or steal anything.”
She snorted at his levity. “As if I could harm you. You’re twice my size.”
Unfortunately, she made the grave mistake of glancing down and became distracted by the impressive breadth of his shoulders and the twinkle in his eyes. She reached for a snow-dusted branch, but her fingers slipped. With a horrified yelp she slid straight down toward him. He lifted his arms to catch her, and the next thing she knew they were both sprawled on the ground beneath the tree in an ungainly tangle of limbs.
Oof!” he grunted.
Emma flushed scarlet and tried to push herself upright, but her skirts were rucked up around her knees and their legs were entwined as she straddled him. Her chest was plastered to his, and the muscles of his abdomen flexed beneath her palms as she slid them around for a place to push upright.
When she finally staggered to her feet she made a great show of brushing the snow from her skirts to hide her mortification. Kit rolled to his side and stood, chuckling as he, too, dusted the icy slush from his coat. He bent and retrieved the sprigs of mistletoe from where they lay strewn about and handed her the posy with a mocking bow.
“Your bouquet, madame.”
Emma accepted it with a wry smile. “Thank you. I’m not usually so careless. The ice made it slicker than I expected.”
He glanced up at the remaining ball of mistletoe growing directly above them and sent her a roguish grin. “That’s the second time I’ve risked life and limb to save you from certain peril.” He raised his brows in cheeky suggestion. “Why don’t you honor tradition and reward me for my trouble?”
He tapped his cheek, indicating where she should kiss him.
Heat scalded up her neck and to the tops of her ears, but her heart pounded in appreciation of this new, flirtatious game. She’d dreamed of kissing Kit for years.
“Very well. Thank you for saving me. Again.”
Balancing up on tiptoe, she pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek.
Her lips tingled. His skin was cool and slightly textured with early-morning beard, and her stomach somersaulted at the delicious scent of his cologne.
Just as she told herself to pull away, he turned his head, and the warm exhale of his breath sloughed over her lips. She froze, hardly daring to breathe. And then his lips brushed hers—a tentative, silent question—and Emma didn’t think. She turned her own head and leaned up into him, fusing her mouth to his.
His low growl of satisfaction reverberated through her. His lips moved on hers, tasting, nibbling, even as his gloved hands came up to cup the back of her head.
Her knees almost gave out.She was kissing Kit Carlisle!And it wasglorious.
When she parted her lips to suck in a breath he took full advantage; his tongue slipped inside and touched her own. Shocked but intrigued, Emma darted her own tongue out to brush against his, and the moment she did so the kiss turned wild. He kissed her again and again. Deep, languorous sweeps of his tongue, as if he couldn’t get enough of her taste, as if he wished to consume her.
Enthralled, Emma grabbed the lapels of his coat and kissed him back with all the pent-up longing in her heart. A low, deep ache throbbed in her belly and between her legs.
Just when she thought she might faint from pleasure, he dragged his mouth from hers. His hands dropped from her nape and he took a cooling step backward.
“God, Emma, forgive me—”
“Don’t youdareapologize,” she scolded breathlessly.
He glanced down her in surprise. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“No, I suppose not.” She sent him a wry smile. “But I’m delighted you did.”
The poor man looked as though she’d hit him over the head with an iron bar. Her smile widened even more.
“As first kisses go, it was lovely.”
His jaw dropped open. “That was your first kiss?”
“It was,” she admitted cheerfully. “At least, my firstproperone. I had no idea one could do that with one’s tongue.”
He shook his head, still looking dazed. “But . . . how is that even possible? You’re twenty-three for God’s sake.”
“I know how old I am. And it’s entirely possible. I’ve hardly been in England since I was nineteen. You’d be amazed at the lack of potential suitors there are on the other side of the world.”
