The Earl's Snow-Kissed Proposal

‘Yes, it is.’

‘Then let’s skate.’

* * *

The snow had stopped and glints of late sunshine dappled the cold whiteness of the ice. Gabe’s arm around her waist felt warm and right and it played havoc with her senses. The exhilaration of gliding on the smooth ice, the laughter in his voice as he instructed her, the passion in his eyes as they rested on her caught her breath in her throat, filled her with female joy.

Gabe wanted her and he was honest enough to admit it. Suddenly Etta was tired of the pretence. The attraction existed and it was impossible right now to regret it. It enveloped them in a mesh of anticipation, and each movement, each word was filled with innuendo and sensual overtones. Each touch sent her pulse a notch higher, brought another hint of desire into play.

Time seemed to float by as he instructed her, clasped her hands in his and skated backwards, towing her along. He encouraged her, teased her, praised her, and all the while his eyes conveyed a message of need and desire until her whole body was heightened to fever pitch, every sensation on alert.

A warning alarm tried to clang in her mind, telling her that this was too much, but as the crisp air nipped her cheeks, as the swirling snow fell in magical flakes around her and the Christmas music added cheer to the air, it was impossible to think that this could be wrong.

All her life she’d believed in what her parents had imbued her with—she was inherently flawed, programmed to do wrong, her natural instincts would lead her astray and into wrongdoing.

Tommy had proved them right—she’d entered into that relationship like a fool. But Gabe wasn’t Tommy and she wasn’t that teenage girl any more.

‘I think you’re ready to let go now,’ Gabe said. ‘Skate by yourself.’

Etta braced herself and pushed off and gave a small squeak of delight. ‘I can do it!’

Exhilaration surged through her as she glided forward in a smooth movement, the classical music adding rhythm to her advance. Next to her Gabe grinned, and desire spiked inside her.

‘This deserves a glass of Viennese punch. I’ll meet you in the middle of the rink.’

As they made their way across the ice Etta knew what she wanted and exactly what to do about it.

If she had the guts.

Minutes later she held a steaming mug and sipped the sweet, hot brew—a mix of tea, sugar, rum and brandy.

The scent of cloves wafted upwards as Gabe lifted his mug. ‘To new experiences.’

Etta nodded, and her stomach looped-the-loop as her nerves jostled and twanged. Now or never.

Balancing carefully, she placed her own mug down on the stand, took Gabe’s from his grasp, and placed it next to hers. ‘I can think of another new experience I’d like to try.’

With that she glided forward, reached up, and pressed her lips against his.

Sensations zapped her body in a warm molten stream as synapses pinged and went into overload. For the first time Etta knew what a timeless moment was. Her body moulded to his as his lips played feather-light havoc with her senses. Touched her own lips with a sweetness that morphed into an intense vortex as she parted her lips and he deepened the kiss. Her hands looped round his neck and his large hands spanned her waist and pulled her even closer to him.

When finally he ended the kiss he rocked back, though his hands still anchored her to his body. ‘Any m

ore new experiences you want to try?’

His deep tones danced over her skin and she released a sigh of sheer anticipation as she batted her eyelashes at him in exaggerated flirt mode. ‘Hmm... Perhaps you could help me out?’

‘Let’s go.’

Her whole being was now consumed by a need he seemed to empathise with fully as they tugged their skates off, fingers made clumsy by haste. But eventually they entered the dusk of the Vienna evening. Snow whirled down once more, and Etta marvelled that it didn’t sizzle as it landed on her heated face, on lips that tingled from sensory overload. The lights looked even more magical now, and she slowed her quick march for a few minutes to listen to the jaunty medieval carol being strummed by a busker with a harp outside the festively lit shops.

Back at the hotel, they crossed the lobby, went down the corridor and into the suite. The door closed behind them and she stepped forward, straight into his arms, lifting her face for his kiss.

But although he wrapped his arms around her waist, his eyes were serious as he looked into her face. ‘Etta, are you sure about this?’

‘Yes. I haven’t felt like this in years, and I want this.’

Caution etched his forehead with a frown and she knew why.