The Viscount's Veiled Lady (Whitby Weddings 3)

‘All right.’ The little girl looked between them with unabashed curiosity. ‘Shall I tell her you were kissing?’

‘No!’ They both uttered the exclamation together.

‘But they won’t mind.’ Harriet blinked innocently. ‘Mama and Papa kiss all the time.’

‘I’m sure they do.’ Arthur threw an amused glance towards Frances, though she looked anything but amused. On the contrary, her skin was a particularly vibrant shade of scarlet. Clearly the moment between them had passed.

‘Frances...’ He decided to make some introductions before the child could tell them any more about her parents’ domestic habits. ‘Allow me to introduce Miss Harriet Felstone.’

‘Felstone?’ She looked confused. ‘But she called you uncle?’

‘It’s an honorific title. Harriet likes to think of us all as one big, happy family.’

‘I see.’ The red in her cheeks faded somewhat. ‘Then I’m very happy to meet you, Harriet.’

‘Very pleased to make your acquaintance.’ The little girl had clearly been paying attention to adult conversations, too. ‘What’s that on your face?’

‘Harriet!’ Arthur started to remonstrate, but Frances waved a hand.

‘It’s a scar.’ She crouched down to give the girl a better look. ‘I had a nasty accident and it left me with this mark.’

‘It looks sore.’ Harriet leaned forward to get a closer look. ‘Shall I give it a kiss? That’s what Mama does when I hurt myself. She gives me a special kiss to make it all better. I can give you one, too, if you like?’

‘Would you? That sounds lovely.’

Harriet nodded seriously and then puckered her lips, pressing them gently against Frances’s cheek. ‘There. Is that better?’

‘Do you know, I really think it is.’ Frances looked delighted. ‘That was a special kiss, thank you.’

‘Maybe Uncle Arthur should give you one, too.’

‘Maybe he will. Later.’ He strode forward as a fresh wave of colour washed over Frances’s cheeks. ‘Only let’s find Aunt Violet first, shall we?’

‘All right.’

‘She’s quite a character.’ Frances was still blushing as Harriet scampered off ahead of them.

‘Four years going on fourteen, but she’s a sweet girl, when she minds her own business, that is.’

He gave her a sidelong look. She didn’t take his arm this time, which was probably a good thing since he was feeling somewhat hot under the collar himself, his body in only marginally less turmoil than his mind, which was still reeling from the shock of so many mixed emotions, coming one after the other. Anxiety about being late, irritation at not being able to find her, relief when he finally had and then a rush of pure, unadulterated desire. He’d behaved somewhat recklessly in kissing her, but then she was looking particularly fetching. Most of the time her clothes seemed designed to cover as much of her body as possible, but today he could see her arms as well as the long column of her throat, ornamented by a single thin ribbon and...he peered closer...a single black-shell pendant, nestling in the dip between the twin curves of her breasts... If only he’d kissed her there when he’d had the chance!

He cleared his throat instead, though his voice still came out husky. ‘You didn’t mind what she said about your scar?’

‘No. She didn’t mean anything by it and her kiss was very sweet.’

‘Just hers?’

‘Not just hers, no.’ She looked shy all of a sudden. ‘Only I wouldn’t call yours sweet exactly.’

‘Salty?’

‘No...’ her lips curved upwards ‘...but something stronger than sweet.’

‘Not unpleasant, then?’

‘Not that either, although it did take me by surprise.’

‘Really?’ He lowered his head so that his mouth skimmed the side of her ear. ‘Because I’ve been wanting to do it for a month at least.’