Always a Maiden (The Belles of Beak Street #5)(27)

He extended his free hand behind him, and she took it with both of her hands. Almost as if he’d thrown her a line to save her from drowning.

All through him went a sensation of wanting to pull her to him. Of wanting to save her. But she didn’t need saving. She needed an aristocrat for a husband. Her titled gentleman would be the one to rescue her from her family’s treatment.

“I take it you have never been kissed before,” he said, bringing up their clasped hands and kissing her fingers.

“Not on the lips.” She did a half skip to stay beside him.

He slowed his long strides. “Never? Not even by your mother? Not that it is the same thing at all.”

“Not that I remember.” Her fingers tightened on his.

She had been sheltered, protected, damn near cocooned in cotton, and cordoned off from affectionate interaction of any kind. He mused, “How is that possible?”

“When I was engaged, I think my affianced intended to kiss me after I accepted, but I nearly broke the window behind my head. Or so he said. But I don’t think he wanted to kiss me either.”

Evan stopped. What did she mean by either? “You didn’t want to kiss him?”

“I don’t know that I expected it. But I think he was in love with Annabelle even then, even though he thought she’d spurned him. He was only going to marry me because our fathers wanted it. Not because he felt any great affection for me.”

So the rumors had been true. She had been engaged to the Viscount of Ashton. Evan supposed he knew that by her outburst in the alcove when he’d ripped her dress. Not that he’d paid any mind years ago when the rumors were flying. The part that encouraged him was that she’d shied away from Ashton’s kiss, too. But she’d said “either” as if she thought Ashton didn’t want to kiss her, and she suspected Evan also didn’t want to.

“I can assure you, I am not in love with anyone else,” he coaxed.

Her gaze went to his, but it didn’t stay. She looked off into the distance. He didn’t think she was looking at the foliage. He guided her the rest of the way to the table and set down the lantern. Then he leaned his backside against the table to be closer to her eye level.

“Do you want to try again?” he asked.

She nodded but looked down.

“I’m glad of it,” he said waiting for her to look up. “How are you feeling?”

“Nauseated.”

He couldn’t help but bark out an involuntary laugh. “You, my darling girl, are a dagger to my self-assurance.”

Her face rose. “I’m sorry.” She bit her lower lip with her pearly teeth. “I’m shaky, too. So perhaps it is that I drank too much wine. I do feel very strange. But mayhap nauseated was too strong a word, more as if there are swallows flapping about inside me.”

He reached out to run his thumb over her abused lower lip. There was the tiniest of flinches. He went to drop his arm rather than push the issue.

She reached out and caught his wrist holding it near her face. “I will do my one-hundredth part.”

Red bloomed across her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. Perhaps her starts and winces were a product of nerves. It had been so long since his first kiss that he’d forgotten the spate of nerves that accompanied it. Then again she was a woman always in control, so perhaps he should cede more to her.

“You could do more than one-hundredth.”

For a second they just stared at each other. Not letting his attention drop to her pink lips, he waited.

Finally, she leaned toward him, and their lips met. He couldn’t have said how much he finished the movement, more than he’d intended, but he wanted to prove he could do better. He could find what she liked. But clear thoughts were lost under the warm softness of her lips. He wanted more, deeper kisses, but he contented himself with lingering, slow, suckling at her lower lip then tantalizingly soft brushes of his mouth over hers.

The world dropped away and everything centered on this woman and her gradual build of confidence and skill. Her tongue tentatively touched his upper lip. Desire slammed him hard. He reciprocated, ever so gently. First, it was just tiny licks, then a game of tongue tag, until it finally evolved into a dance interspersed with lots of sweet kisses. He’d put his hands on her hips, but held her in one place ignoring his need for her to be against his hardness.

Her hands were around his neck and her fingers played in his hair at his nape. Somehow that pleased him even more. His breathing turned ragged, but then hers did, too. He could kiss her like this for hours.

Hours. He started and drew back a little. They had been at this awhile.

Her eyes opened, but they were sleepy looking. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“Not at all.” He was aware that time had passed, but he had no sense of how much. “You’re lovely, Susanah.” He kissed her on her forehead, her furrowed forehead. “I need to check my watch.”



*

Susanah stared out the carriage window at the mist-shrouded lawn. What had she done wrong? She had only been thinking about how her senses were reeling, her knees had turned to jam, and her body tingled all over. Especially in her private place. How could a kiss affect her down there? She’d wanted it to go on and on forever, but he had to check his watch as if he were marking the time until the exercise was over.