Pursuing Lord Pascal (Dashing Widows 4)

He sighed. “When did you become adept at intrigue?”

/> Amy blushed and squeezed his hand. “I’ve…I’ve been thinking of this since our last kiss.”

His laugh expressed astounded delight. “I had no idea. You’ve been so cold, I quite despaired of winning your favor.”

“I’m sorry that I was such a coward.”

“And you didn’t trust me. But you do now. Your consent does me such honor.”

Amy was back to looking misty-eyed. “I couldn’t resist you.”

She was a miracle, and he didn’t deserve her. He sucked in a jagged breath to contain the vast wave of emotion that threatened to choke him. In silent homage, he raised her hand to his lips.

Pascal struggled to restore the lightness. She wasn’t yet ready to hear what lay in his heart. He’d lured her to the threshold of a life together, but only careful handling would coax her across into a permanent place in his life. “So while you were busy tormenting me, you were hatching wanton plans?”

Her smile was tremulous. “I thought perhaps one afternoon…”

“One afternoon?”

She gave a nervous, excited spurt of laughter. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We usually go driving anyway. Perhaps instead of the park, we go to—”

“Heaven?”

Her breath caught, and her eyes darkened. “I hope so, although I’m so afraid I’ll disappoint you. I’m sure…I’m sure you’re used to more skillful lovers.”

He couldn’t bear to see her crippling doubt creeping back. Catching the back of her neck, he drew her up for another hungry kiss. “I want you, Amy. Only you.”

“And I want you, Pascal.”

He’d waited an eon to hear her say that. He trailed a finger down her cheek, then followed the sensitive nerve down the side of her neck. She shivered in response. There was so much sensuality locked up inside her. He ached to set it free.

Tomorrow…

“You know, given our licentious plans, you should call me Gervaise.”

A soft smile curved her lips, and when his name emerged, it heated his blood like brandy. “Gervaise.”

This time his kiss was gentle, and when he drew away, she clung to his shoulders. He suspected her head was swimming. His balance didn’t feel too sturdy either. “Leave everything to me.”

“I will. I’ll see you tonight for dinner before the Lewis musicale.”

“And will you grant me both waltzes from now on?”

The radiant emotion faded from her lovely face, but it was enough that he’d seen it. She mightn’t be in love with him, but she hovered close. He’d wager his life on it. And Amy Mowbray’s love was a gift he didn’t take lightly.

“I’d like to give you every dance. But it’s not discreet.”

He bit back the retort that if she agreed to marry him, discretion could go to Hades. He’d brought her this far. Surely after sharing her body, she’d take that last step. “I can live with that. Hell, now you’ve said yes, I can live with anything.”

She leaned forward, and this time, she kissed him. Her boldness blasted heat through his veins. The time between now and consummation stretched wider than the Atlantic.

But by God, he had now.

He wrapped his arms around her and draped her across his lap. The brush of her hip across his swollen cock set stars exploding behind his eyes.

For one moment, she lay softly against him, then she drew back to regard him with heavy eyes. “Gervaise…”

He loved to hear his name on her lips. “Don’t look at me like that, or I won’t go.”