Married By Morning (The Hathaways #4)(83)

“I haven’t forgotten a thing, actually. Not one detail of your beautiful body. Soon I may start sketching you na**d again. Every time I put a pencil to paper, the temptation nearly overwhelms me.”

She tried to look severe. “You promised not to do that again.”

“But my pencil has a will of its own,” he said gravely.

Catherine’s color deepened, even as a smile tugged at her lips. “You’re incorrigible.”

His lashes lowered fractionally. “Kiss me, and I’ll behave.”

She made an exasperated little sound. “Now you want to kiss me, when Poppy and the housekeeper are standing only a few yards away?”

“They won’t notice. They’re involved in a riveting conversation about hotel toweling.” Leo’s voice lowered to a whisper. “Kiss me. One little kiss. Right here.” He pointed to his cheek.

Perhaps it was the fact that Leo looked rather boyish as he teased her, his blue eyes alight with mischief. But as Catherine looked at him, she was nearly overwhelmed with a strange new feeling, a warm giddiness that invaded every part of her body. She leaned forward, and instead of kissing his cheek, she put her mouth directly on his.

Leo drew in a surprised breath, letting her take the lead. And, giving in to temptation, she lingered longer than she had intended, her mouth softly teasing, her tongue shyly touching his lips. He responded with a low sound, his arms going around her. She sensed the rising heat in him, the carefully banked urges threatening to flare out of control.

Ending the kiss, Catherine half expected to see Poppy and the housekeeper, Mrs. Pennywhistle, both staring at them with scandalized expressions. But as she peeked over Leo’s shoulder, she saw that the housekeeper’s back was still turned toward them.

Poppy had taken in the situation with an astute glance. “Mrs. Pennywhistle,” she said glibly, ushering the housekeeper away from the threshold, “do come out into the hallway with me, I thought I saw a dreadful stain on the carpeting the other day, and I wanted to show you … is it here? … No, perhaps over there … Oh, drat, where is it?”

Left in temporary privacy, Catherine looked into Leo’s heavy-lidded blue eyes.

“Why did you do that?” he asked, his voice husky.

She tried to think of an answer that would amuse him. “I wanted you to test my higher brain function.”

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly. “If you have a match when you enter a dark room,” he finally said, “which would you light first—the oil lamp on the table, or the kindling in the hearth?”

Catherine squinted as she considered the question. “The lamp.”

“The match,” he said, shaking his head. His tone was soft and chiding. “Marks, you’re not even trying.”

“Another one,” she prompted, and he complied without hesitation, his head bending over hers. He gave her a long, smoldering kiss, and she relaxed against him, her fingers sinking into his hair. He finished the kiss with a voluptuous nudge.

“Is it legal or illegal for a man to marry his widow’s sister?” he asked.

“Illegal,” she said languidly, trying to pull his head back to hers.

“Impossible, because he’s dead.” Leo resisted her efforts and looked down at her with a crooked grin. “It’s time to stop.”

“No,” she protested, straining toward him.

“Easy, Marks,” he whispered. “One of us has to have some self-control, and it really should be you.” He brushed his lips against her forehead. “I have another present for you.”

“What is it?”

“Look in my pockets.” He jumped a little and laughed unsteadily as she began to search him. “No, you little ravisher, not my trouser pockets.” Grabbing her wrists in his hands, he held them suspended in the air, as if he were trying to subdue a playful kitten. Seeming unable to resist, he leaned forward and took her mouth again. Being kissed while he held her wrists might have frightened her once, but now it awakened something deep and ticklish inside.

Leo tore his mouth away and released her with a gasping laugh. “Coat pocket. My God, I want to—no, I won’t say it. Yes, there’s your present.”

Catherine drew out an object wrapped in soft cloth. Gently she unwrapped a new pair of spectacles made of silver … gleaming and perfect, the oval lenses sparkling. Marveling at the workmanship, she drew a finger along one of the intricate filigreed earpieces, all the way to the curved tip. “They’re so beautiful,” she said in wonder.

“If they please you, we’ll have another pair made in gold. Here, let me help you…” Leo gently drew the old spectacles off her face, seeming to savor the gesture.

She put the new ones on. They felt light and secure on the bridge of her nose. As she looked around the room, everything was wonderfully detailed and in focus. In her excitement, she jumped up and hurried to the looking glass that hung over the entryway table. She inspected her own glowing reflection.

“How pretty you are.” Leo’s tall, elegant form appeared behind hers. “I do love spectacles on a woman.”

Catherine’s smiling gaze met his in the silvered glass. “Do you? What an odd preference.”

“Not at all.” His hands came to her shoulders, lightly fondling up to her throat and back again. “They emphasize your beautiful eyes. And they make you look capable of secrets and surprises—which, as we know, you are.” His voice lowered. “Most of all I love the act of removing them—getting you ready for a tumble in bed.”