Love, Come to Me(11)

His face was blank, the thin scar on his temple un-camouflaged by any laugh lines. “Because I’m a Reb?”

“No. No, of course not. Because we haven’t been introduced . . . and I can’t ever talk to you like the other night, never again. I’m engaged. And you’re not the kind of man that an engaged woman could be friends with. No one would understand, especially not Daniel.”

“Of course he wouldn’t,” Heath said, and the quiet sound of his voice comforted her slightly. He did understand. She raised her eyes to his face, her gaze alighting on the tawny color of his skin and the rich gold of his hair. How out of place he was, up here amid the snow and the icy air. He had been born to live where there was plenty of sun and green land. His lazy smiles and his foreign drawl would never be accepted here. Why has he decided to settle so far away from home? she wondered. What could his reasons possibly be? She couldn’t bring herself to ask him. For the first time, she saw that there was a thin, almost unnoticeable scar on the side of his neck which seemed to extend past the collar of his shirt. How far down did it go? How had he gotten it? It looked like the one on his temple.

She wondered what kind of man he was. She only knew enough about him to recognize that there were depths of experience and emotion locked inside him that no one would ever be able to understand. Unlike Daniel and the others she knew who were basically uncomplicated, Heath Rayne was too complex, too . . . deceptive. She was grateful for what he had done, but she would not delude herself into thinking that there was any basis for a friendship between them. They had nothing in common. They were worlds apart.

“I’ll never forget what you did for me,” Lucy said gravely. “Nothing I could do would ever repay—”

“I don’t want your everlasting gratitude,” he interrupted, a wry smile spreading slowly across his face. “Don’t look so woebegone, honey. This isn’t goodbye.”

“But it is. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

“Ah, I see. Forgive me. It’s just that in Virginia we have a different way of saying goodbye.”

There was deviltry dancing in his blue eyes, and Lucy smiled in response as she turned her face away from him. “Don’t tease,” she said, turning coquettish, knowing that now he was going to try to cajole her into allowing him a liberty; and certainly she would refuse, no matter how persuasive he was. She was an engaged woman.

“I’m not teasing. This is a serious matter. Don’t you think you owe me at least one kiss? As you just pointed out, I saved your life. Would Daniel begrudge just one of your kisses to the man who rescued you? Would Daniel ever know? God knows I would never tell him. A kiss is such a little thing to ask, Lucy.”

“I’ve never kissed anyone but Daniel,” she said primly, finding an irresistible delight in flirting with him.

“Yes, but I’ll bet he doesn’t know where your birthmark is,” Heath said, and smiled as she blushed. “Sorry, honey. You were right before—I’m not much of a gentleman, am I?”

“No, you’re not.”

“Are you telling me the truth about never kissing anyone but Daniel?”

What a conversation for her to be having with him! She felt her cheeks go hot as she avoided his gaze. “It’s basically true. Before we were engaged, I . . . tried kissing with a boy or two . . . but they weren’t real kisses like they are with Daniel.”

“Real kisses,” he repeated thoughtfully. “I didn’t know there was any other kind except real ones.”

“You know what I’m talking about. Some kisses don’t mean anything at all. But a real kiss is one that means something.”

“No, I didn’t know anything about these interesting distinctions. Look at me, Lucy.”

Aware of a mixture of confusion and excitement, she obeyed for a reason that she didn’t understand. Yes, he was going to kiss her, and she shouldn’t let him, but she couldn’t find it in herself to tell him not to. Deliberately he removed his gloves, his eyes holding hers. Then one of his brown hands was clasped around the back of her neck, his fingers sliding into her chestnut hair. The other had lightly gripped the nipped-in curve of her waist. The way he held her was very different from Daniel’s undemanding embrace.

“Tell me if this is real or not, Lucy.”

His head lowered over hers, and she closed her eyes, inhaling quickly. The first touch of his mouth was dry and warm and urging, demanding something that she didn’t know how to give. She clutched the edge of the seat and offered her lips to him cautiously. Long after she thought that he would stop, the pressure of his mouth was still on hers, and then it slanted harder, forcing her lips apart. Gasping, she put her hands on his chest to push him away, her palms flat on the broad surface. The kiss was now hot and intimately moist, making her tremble in a funny combination of repulsion and pleasure. Bewildered, startled, she felt the velvet stroke of his tongue against hers, tasting her in a way that she had never dreamed of. His mouth was blazing and hungry. There was a magic about him that wound around her senses and tugged delicately. She was shaking, just as she had the first time he had held her, only this time it was not from cold but a heat that burgeoned from deep inside her.

With a muffled sound, Heath ended the kiss, and there was a disturbed expression on his face. Dazed, she met his eyes; her heart was throbbing and her stomach jumping. He had just tasted the inside of her mouth. The thought that anyone would want to do that was absolutely astonishing. And yet . . . it hadn’t been unpleasant.