Goddess of the Hunt (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #1)(39)

Lucy gaped at her companion. She thought surely Miss Hathaway must be teasing—but no. Sophia’s expression was all honest, eager inquiry. She wasn’t even blushing.

She briefly considered answering the questions frankly. It was powerfully tempting. She had been furious with Jeremy the day before, when he insisted they be seen. Now she reviled him thoroughly—because he’d been right. Toby would finally look at her not as a girl, but as a woman. And Lucy could finally discuss the churning tempest of sensation a kiss could unleash with some one … even if that someone was the enemy.

Was it terribly thrilling?Yes, devil take it. Devil takehim . Yes.

How did it feel?Wicked and wonderful. Like a swarm of bees humming under her skin, tickling the nape of her neck and the backs of her knees. A few straggling stings pricked her memory even now.

How did he taste?Like hot rolls straight from the oven, washed down with whiskey.

Did he touch you all over?No. But Lord, had she wanted him to.

Lucy considered it a great tragedy that she had let nearly twenty years of her life go by without kissing anyone. She was greatly impatient to try it with the man she actually loved. It had been tempting the previous night to set her original plan in motion, but she wouldn’t give Jeremy the satisfaction. She could win Toby’s heart without trickery or temptation. She needed only the opportunity, a few minutes alone with him. And, evidently, she needed to find that opportunity before Sophia found hers.

“If only I were so fortunate,” Sophia was saying. “I’ve been waiting and waiting for a passionate moment, but Sir Toby is a model of propriety.” She said this with such obvious distaste, Lucy thought she might as well have said,Sir Toby has the pox .

“You haven’t let him kiss you?” she asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“I would have,” Sophia replied with annoyance, “but he hasn’t even tried.”

Lucy felt a little thrill burn down her neck, and she squeezed it between her shoulder blades, standing taller as a result. Toby couldn’t possibly be in love with Sophia. He hadn’t even tried to kiss her. Why, she and Jeremy felt nearly nothing for each other save animosity, and they had shared five kisses now. Each one better than the last.

“Sometimes he looks as though he might,” Sophia continued. “His eyes go all glassy, and he stares at my lips.” She screwed her features into a cross-eyed mask, and Lucy laughed despite herself. “But then—nothing. He clears his throat, gives his neck a little quirk, and then changes the topic of conversation entirely. To geometry, of all things!”

“Geometry?” Lucy was baffled. What Toby knew about mathematics could fit on the head of his stickpin. She tried to imagine him holding an actual conversation on the topic. She failed utterly.

“Absurd, isn’t it? He’ll have to kiss me someday. I suppose he is waiting for our betrothal.”

The hot little thrill between her shoulder blades turned to ice. “Do you expect him to propose soon?”

“Any day now, Kitty says.”

“You don’t sound overly excited about the idea.”

They reached the painted bull’s-eye, and Lucy began plucking arrows from the straw-filled target. She closed her hand around a shaft that had landed dead center. She froze. But of course. How had she not thought of it before? All this time she had been trying to prevent Toby and Sophia’s engagement, she had been aiming at the wrong target. Even if Toby was determined to propose marriage to Miss Hathaway, it did not necessarily follow that Sophia was wedded to the notion of accepting him. She turned to Sophia. “You don’t want to marry him, do you?”

Sophia shrugged. “Oh, I expect I do. At least, everyone else expects me to. Kitty goes on and on about what a splendid couple we make. Sir Tobyis very handsome, and most affable. We converse on all manner of subjects and never disagree. And there is the title. When we marry, I shall be Lady Aldridge—that will satisfy.”

“Will it?”

Sophia bit her lip and stared off toward the horizon. “Oh, Lucy, I fear it won’t. Sir Toby admires me, I know. But I don’t wish to be merely admired.” She looked back at Lucy, eyes lit with mischief. “I want to be desired. I want true passion. I want what you have with Lord Kendall.”

Lucy choked back a laugh. Whatever Sophia’s fantasy of “true passion” looked like, it could not possibly resemble the truth of matters between her and Jeremy. But the truth of matters was beside the point. If her apparent happiness with Jeremy would lead Sophia to seek happiness with a man other than Toby—Lucy would effuse romantic bliss. “Should you like to hear about true passion, then?” she asked, turning to walk back across the green.

Sophia clutched her arm tightly. “Oh, yes! Tell me everything. What do you feel when he draws near? Does your heart start to flutter madly? Do you feel as though you might swoon?”

“The farthest thing from it,” Lucy replied truthfully. “Swooning would be the wrong thing entirely. When a man kisses you, you want to be awake. That’s how you feel when a passionate man draws near.Awake , every inch of you. Awake, and …” She searched her mind for an appropriately lurid word. “Tingling,” she finished in a whisper.

“Tingling?” Sophia’s ivory cheeks blushed bright pink.

“Tingling.All over . Every forgotten little corner of your body tingles like mad. Even the spaces between your toes.”