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Before she could hold it back, she answered his question with a single word. “Yes.”
“Oh, Red. You devil.” He said the words low and rough, and they skittered along her skin as he stepped away and crossed to the buffet, where several decanters sat in a neat line. Taking a crystal snifter in hand, he poured a splash into the glass.
Much of her enjoyment fizzled away. He’d made her certain promises. “Ethan.” She heard the edge to her voice. “I’m fond of this gown. I wouldn’t want anything on it. You know, like wine, or liquor, or vomit.”
He turned back to her. “Then I suggest you sip.”
“I sip?”
“The brandy is for you, not me.”
Her eyes widened as he walked toward her. “You’re not having any.”
“I made a promise to a certain lady. Part of a bargain that I intend to keep.” That made her relax, her shoulders dropping as she reached out. Why did it matter so much that he kept his promises to her? But she didn’t ask, and no answer came to mind as she took the glass from his hand, taking a sip. The sweet liquor burned down her throat, but she didn’t cough.
“Really? No dramatic choking?”
She took another. “My father let me sip from his glass sometimes.”
“How long has your father been gone?”
“A year and a half,” she answered, taking a third drink, the glass now nearly empty. “He was the heart of our family…it’s been difficult.”
“I don’t remember my father. Not really.” His fingers had slipped into hers and he pulled her toward the settee, sitting down before pulling her into his lap. “But my uncle assures me he’d be terribly disappointed if we’d known each other.”
Her heart twisted in her chest, and setting her glass on a nearby table, she wrapped her arms about his neck. “Don’t listen to him, it isn’t true.”
His face dropped to the crook of her neck once again, but this time it wasn’t for a titillating kiss. He burrowed into her, and she held him even tighter.
She knew how it felt to think of oneself as less and she liked the feel of him seeking comfort in her.
Ethan ought to have been the one who’d had the brandy. Because he was confessing his secrets first and then snuggling up to Natalie like a needy pup.
But she was so sweet in his arms. She’d curled into his lap and wrapped herself about him. And the word yes kept falling from her lips.
It turned out that the only thing more attractive than Natalie saying no, no, no was Natalie saying yes, yes, yes.
Her scent was all over him, her body pressed to his, that bosom crushed to his chest as her arms wound around his neck.
Had she assured him that his uncle’s words were not true? That his father wouldn’t be disappointed in his only son if he could see him today? “It might be true. You saw what I was like that first day.”
She was silent as she continued to hold him, her fingers lightly stroking the skin of his neck. Her breath ruffled through his hair as she rubbed her cheek along the top of his head. “What kind of man do you wish to be?”
That was the question. He’d been happy as the rake. It pissed his uncle off, it was fun, it gave him the perfect cover for enacting his plan.
But then there were moments…waking up in a strange woman’s bed and having to excuse himself, not being trusted by his friends, defiling Natalie upon their first meeting. At those times, he wondered if he might like to change his path.
He shook his head, his lips grazing the delicate skin of her neck, her pulse beating under his mouth. He pressed another kiss to just that spot. “I wish to be the man that gets to hold you in his lap while you assert your naughtiness.”
She pulled back again, her brows lifting. “I thought I was comforting you.”
“Alone in the library, my naughty little kitten,” he rumbled, knowing that he was distracting from the intimacy of the moment, retreating into his rakish side and pushing her away. He could feel her stiffening as he moved the conversation from himself.
But he didn’t know how to feel. Part of him liked his sober self, the man that held her in his arms, completely aware, who just felt. But this was not his plan, and if he changed now… Had his uncle been right all along? What did that life even look like if he started to follow his uncle’s advice? Would it be his undoing? Ethan had a fear that his uncle would push him into some mold that would make him miserable. But what if he was wrong? What if his uncle’s way had the potential to make Ethan happy?
Natalie pushed out of his lap, and reaching for her glass, finished the final swallow. “That brandy was exactly what I needed to face my mother. I’m ready to go back.”
He frowned, standing too. Part of him wanted to take his words back. Tell her she had been comforting him. He was just afraid he’d sink too far into her softness and lose himself. “Very well, I’ll take you back. But not before I request a place on your dance card.”
