Before he could get it to his lips, she pulled away. “You cannot possibly consider doing to me—in public—what they are doing,” she hissed at him.
“Is everyone in your country frigid?”
“I live in a warm country,” she said, confused. “We have winters but they are mild.”
“You want to be an American or not?” he snapped.
“I am trying to learn.”
He calmed himself. “Yes, and you’re doing a fine job of it. Look at them.” He gestured to the other couples. “They wouldn’t be aware of a German invasion right now so they won’t notice us. What they’re doing is called, among other things, necking, and it’s what newlywed couples are supposed to do.”
“All right,” she said, leaning away from him and holding out her hand. “You may kiss my hand if you do not twist my arm or pull it or do any of the other painful things you are inclined toward.”
“Listen, lady—”
“It’s Your—”
He slipped his hand behind her head and kissed her before she could say another word.
Only twice before had she been kissed on the lips, once when Count Julian asked her to marry him and once by Lieutenant Montgomery on the island. Neither time had prepared her for this.
First one of his hands and then the other enveloped her head in a gentle, protective gesture and his lips played on hers softly. Aria kept her eyes open and her hands moved as if to push him away, but then she began to feel quite different. Her hands moved to his shoulders and she liked the feel of his bare skin under her palms. Gently, he moved her head to one side and his kiss deepened.
Aria closed her eyes and leaned forward ever so slightly.
When he moved away from her she stayed where she was, eyes still closed. “Lantabeal,” she murmured. Then slowly her eyes fluttered open. He still had his hands on the side of her face.
“That’s one of our American customs. You don’t have that in Lanconia?”
She knew he was teasing her, but she didn’t care.
“And how does my kiss compare to Mitch’s?” he asked.
She straightened at that, and before he knew what hit him, she gave him a resounding slap. “I learned that American custom from your friend in Washington.” She stood. “Someone may take me home now.”
“Listen,” J.T. said, standing in front of her, “we aren’t your servants. You ask for things here, you don’t command them.”
“Then I ask to leave this place.”
“I’ll take you. I’m your husband, remember? Although a fat lot of good it does me.” He turned to Dolly. All the couples were gathering their gear. “I tried. I bloody well tried. Come on, Your Royal Highness, I’ll take you home.”
The trip around town to let the other couples off was made in silence. Aria’s heart was still pounding. She knew she had made too big a fuss over something that wasn’t such a terrible thing to say—in fact she rather liked her husband’s display of jealousy—but what had prompted her attack was fear.
From the time she could walk, decorum and self-discipline had been drilled into her. At all times she was to control her emotions. She had attended the funerals of her beloved parents and never shed a tear in public. She had suffered a couple of physical injuries and never cried. She had been through two kidnappings and never lost her wits. She had always controlle
d herself.
Yet, tonight she had come closer to losing control than she ever had before. What that man’s kiss had made her feel!
She wished she could talk to her grandfather about this. Was this right? Count Julian had never made her feel like this. But then she had never lived with him, slept in the same bed with him, had never even dined alone with him. Maybe this feeling would have come if she had married the count.
Right now she could feel Lieutenant Montgomery’s side pressed against hers and he touched her knee every time he shifted gears. It made her heart beat harder.
When they were alone in the car, she wanted to apologize to him, but he said, “Over there. I want you to move to the far end of the seat. As far away from me as possible.”
Aria did as he bid and they didn’t speak again.
* * *