A Gentleman Never Tells(60)

Her heart rate soared, and she felt hot, even though a cool breeze chilled the air. Why was he asking? Staunton had kissed her often and he had never once asked if he could. He would always just pull her into his arms and kiss her without any warning. But then, she had never wanted Staunton’s kisses.

Did she mind? She was eager for this man to kiss her.

“No,” she whispered.

Reaching over the basket, Lord Brentwood bent his head and lightly brushed his warm, moist, and pliant lips over hers. She tasted the sweetness of the jam he’d just eaten, and a quickening tightened her abdomen. The viscount’s kiss was gentle and satisfying, much more pleasant than Staunton’s kisses had been. She wanted it to go on forever, but it ended far too quickly.

She moistened her lips and asked, “Why did you ask permission for a kiss?”

“That’s what a gentleman is supposed to do the first time he kisses a lady.”

“But we’ve—” She stopped.

“I know,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “We’ve kissed before, but it was you who initiated our first kiss, wasn’t it?”

She nodded again and lowered her lashes over her eyes, embarrassed by how brazen she’d been that morning in the park.

“I didn’t mind, you know,” he said.

“Didn’t you think it made me seem a very loose lady to have done that?”

“Very,” he said with a slight grin as his arms tightened about her.

“And being loose makes me completely unacceptable as a titled man’s wife, doesn’t it?”

His expression turned serious, and his eyes darkened. “No. You can kiss me again any time you want to. I will never rebuff you, and wanting to kiss me will never make you unsuitable as my wife.”

Exasperation settled over her. If that didn’t make her undesirable as a wife in his eyes, she didn’t know what would. She should be furious he wanted her to be so fresh and free. Until she had met him, she had lived a life above reproach and had never been anything but circumspect in the company of a man. But all that was forgotten whenever Lord Brentwood was near her. She had found far too many things to like about him.

Gabrielle looked deeply into his eyes and remembered the breathtaking embrace they’d shared that morning more than two weeks ago. The memories of his tempting kisses fused with what she was feeling now, and she wanted him to kiss her again as he had that day. The desiring look in his hooded eyes left her no doubt he wanted to kiss her that way again too.

And that was not a good idea. She couldn’t examine her feelings for him beyond her intense desire to keep this man from being forced to wed her. She had to put a stop to the way he was making her feel, and she had to do it quickly. She reached behind her and grabbed her reticule off the blanket and fumbled inside it, finally drawing out her sheet of poetry.

She found it difficult to steady her cold fingers as she unfolded the paper. “Since you seemed to enjoy Lord Snellingly’s poetry so much a few nights ago, I thought perhaps I’d read you some of mine.

“In the shadows of a cold night, my fragile dreams…”

Lord Brentwood reached over and slipped the foolscap out of her hands and dropped it to the ground behind him. “I don’t think so, Gabrie.”

“No?” she whispered.

“No,” he answered with a smile. “We’ll let the wind read it.”

He shoved the food basket out of his way so suddenly it knocked over her cup and disturbed Brutus’s slumber. He growled, a low woof sound.

“Stay out of this, Brutus,” Lord Brentwood said and moved closer to Gabrielle.

He positioned his legs in the opposite direction from hers and pulled up his knees so she could rest her side against his thighs. He slid his arms around her, pulling her close.

“I can think of a far better way to spend our time in the park than reading poetry. Tell me how you like this.”

His hold on her was possessive as he lowered his head to hers. Gabrielle instinctively closed her eyes. His lips pressed against hers and moved languorously over them. She parted her lips, allowing his tongue to slip inside and probe the depths of her mouth. The kiss was generous and glorious. At times she heard short, gaspy breaths, and sometimes she heard long contented sighs, but had no idea if the sounds came from her or Lord Brentwood. She loved the way his lips roved expertly across hers, loved the taste of brandy and chocolate that lingered on his tongue.

He raised his head and looked down at her with his crooked smile and asked, “Well?”