Pursuing Lord Pascal (Dashing Widows 4)

He smiled. “I’m glad.”

Amy realized she felt more than beautiful. She felt brave. She’d hesitated enough. It was time to take a chance on what her heart had wanted since her first glimpse of him, so many years ago.

Stepping toward the oak staircase that curved up to what she guessed were the bedrooms, she held out her hand. “I don’t want to wait anymore.” Her voice was still husky. “I’ve waited too long already. Take me upstairs.”

Joy transfigured his face. She realized that despite her spoken consent, and the kisses they’d shared, and her presence here now, he hadn’t been entirely sure of her.

In a few eager strides, he crossed the room and caught her up for another of those world-shaking kisses. She should be accustomed to them by now—but every time he kissed her, the earth set off on a drunken jig through the stars.

In one powerful movement, he swept her up into his arms and began to mount the stairs. Amy gasped and flung one arm around his powerful neck. “Gervaise, I can walk.”

His low laugh made her stomach clench with longing. “Why walk when you can fly?”

“You’re showing off,” she said, to hide how this madly romantic gesture made her pulse race.

“Of course I am. I’m seeking a certain lady’s approval.”

She laid her head on his shoulder as he rounded the first landing, seemingly unwinded. His elegance was misleading. The arms that held her with such ease were hard with muscle. And he was so delightfully warm. This was like curling up beside a roaring fire on a cold winter’s day.

“She already approves,” she murmured, placing her hand over the place where his heart thudded hard and steady. Perhaps she hadn’t been far wrong when she’d wondered if this house belonged in a fairytale. Right now she felt more like a magical princess than a mere mortal woman.

“My campaign must be working.”

“Don’t rest on your laurels,” she said drily, as he carried her along a hallway. But it was impossible to cling to her level-headed self, when a handsome prince carried her away to ravish her.

They swung through an open door to a beautiful bedroom, done out in the style of last century. Windows opened onto the bright afternoon, and the air smelled of beeswax, and the fresh flowers ranged on every flat surface.

“Goodness,” Amy said faintly, her heart taking another dizzy swoop. “There mustn’t be a flower left in London.”

“Do you like it?” He stopped in the middle of the room and stared down at her.

She read the genuine question in those deep blue eyes. “I love it.” She stretched up to place a clumsy kiss on his lips. “Thank you.”

He angled his head to anchor the kiss. “Any time.”

Heat sizzled through her, promised more heat to come. Impatience set her blood rushing. The excruciating wait was over, and it was time to give in to her craving for this beautiful man.

The hands she linked behind his neck were steady, although she’d expected to suffer a storm of nerves when she yielded to him. “Take me to bed, Gervaise.”

“With pleasure.”

A few steps, and he flung back the covers to reveal crisp white sheets. Gently he set her down. The clean sharpness of lavender teased her senses.

“I love this house.” She pushed up against the heaped pillows. “How can you bear to rent it out?”

The fleeting silence held a strangely discordant edge. But she forgot that odd, bristling instant when she watched him tug off his dark blue coat and lay it across a brocade chair near the unlit fire. Excitement coiled in her belly and made her skin prickle with expectation. Soon, soon they’d be naked together, and she’d at last discover sensuality’s mysteries.

“I rarely use it. It’s very old-fashioned.”

“In a charming way.”

His eyes lit as he surveyed her, lying before him in her pink silk dress. “Speaking of charming, you look delectable.”

“Thank you.” She sent him a sheepish smile. “I know it was terribly romantic when you put me on the bed, but undressing will be easier if I stand up.”

He laughed softly and crossed to offer her his hand. “Let me help.”

“Thank you.” She accepted his hand and rose from the bed. In the last weeks, she must have touched his hand a thousand times. Now, the contact resonated like music with all that was to come. “I’ll help you, too.”