Twin of Ice (Montgomery/Taggert 6)

“I thought perhaps you’d be hungry,” she began a bit nervously. The picnic had seemed a good idea, but now it looked like a setting for a seduction. “You said you’d like to talk, too,” she whispered, eyes on her hands.

Kane gave a grunt and strode past her. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you wanted more than to talk. Come on and sit down here and let’s eat. I—.”

“Have to work,” she interrupted, feeling a little hurt at his attitude. After all, she’d done this because he’d seemed so miserable when he’d dropped the food on her.

Kane walked closer to her, put his hand under her chin. “You ain’t gonna cry, are you?”

“Certainly not,” she said firmly. “Let’s eat so I can go home. I have a great deal to do also and—.”

Kane grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his arms.

Houston felt her body softening and her anger disappearing. Perhaps this was what she’d been after. She did so much like to be touched by him.

“You smell good,” he said, nuzzling her neck, as his big body surrounded hers, protecting her, making her feel safe and unsafe at the same time.

“You were real nice today.” He was placing little nibbling kisses along her neck. “You ain’t gonna mind bein’ married to a stableboy like me too much, are you?”

Houston didn’t answer as she felt her knees giving way, but Kane easily held her upright as he began to make love to her left ear.

“You were the prettiest lady there today,” he whispered, his soft breath sending chills down her legs. “And I liked carryin’ you. In fact, I’d like to carry you upstairs to my bed right now.”

Houston was tempted to say nothing and, in truth, wondered if it was possible for her voice to work.

“Eh-hem,” came a loud sound from the doorway.

“Go away,” Kane said, his teeth nipping along Houston’s jawline.

But Houston was too steeped in years of training to continue. She pushed at Kane but didn’t budge him. “Please,” she pleaded, looking into his dark eyes.

With a look of disgust, he released her so suddenly she nearly fell.

Mrs. Murchison stood in the doorway, holding an enormous porcelain soup tureen. As she passed Houston on the way out, she gave her shaming looks which made Houston blush.

Trying to calm herself, Houston realized how close she’d come to blithely jumping into bed with her fiancé. But she’d promised her stepfather she’d ask questions about Kane before she married him. What if she found out he was a criminal? Would she marry him anyway? She would certainly have to if she’d been to bed with him.

Looking at him now, as he sat on the floor opening the champagne, his jacket off, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled to the elbows and showing strong, tanned forearms, she thought perhaps she should let him make love to her, then she’d have to marry him no matter what she found out about him.

But that would be cheating.

Carefully arranging her skirts, she sat on the pillows across from him “I have a favor to ask of you,” she began.

“Sure,” he said, mouth full of pâté.

“I’d like to remain a virgin until my wedding.”

Kane choked so badly Houston was worried about him, but he downed half a bottle of the champagne and managed to recover. “It’s nice to hear you are one,” he said at last, tears in his eyes. “I mean what with Westfield and all.”

Houston stiffened.

“Now, don’t go gettin’ your back up. Here, have some of this.” He held out a tulip glass of champagne. “It’s good for you. So, you want to remain a virgin, do you?” he said, as he ladled creamy oyster stew into porcelain bowls. “I guess that means you want me to keep my hands off you.”

He was watching her in an odd way, speculatively.

“Perhaps that would be better,” she said, thinking that if he kept touching her as he had a minute ago, she’d never stay a virgin—nor want to remain one.

“All right,” he said and there was coldness in his voice.

Houston’s eyes widened. No doubt he thought it was because he was once a stableboy and she thought she was better than he was. “No, please,” she began. “It’s not what you think. I—.” She couldn’t tell him what she’d promised her stepfather, or that his hands made her feel far and away from being a lady. She put her hand on his bare forearm.