Pursuing Lord Pascal (Dashing Widows 4)
Too soon, she pulled free with a shaky laugh. “You gathered a lot from three words.”
He kissed her again, quickly this time. He wanted to kiss her over and over again, until she was panting and trembling. Then he wanted to tumble her onto the grass, and toss her skirts up, and join her on a voyage to paradise.
But he maintained a shred of sense. And thank every angel in heaven, he’d have a chance to answer every fantasy. Soon.
The second sweetest word in the English language after “yes.”
He cradled her head between his hands and studied her piquant face. At last the distance was gone. She looked flushed and delightfully ruffled. “When the three words are ‘come to me,’ I had an inkling what you meant. I’ve passed the test?”
The misty softness in her smile was new. His Amy was inclined to regard him with a skeptical eye. He applauded the change. It made him feel like a king.
“You have. I realized that I no longer doubted you. I was just frightened. That’s no acceptable reason to avoid something.”
He leaned forward and kissed her again. It was a mere three weeks since he’d kissed her, but it felt like three years. “So you’re going to take me like a tonic for the good of your health?”
“Perhaps that’s what you are.”
His laugh was fond. That poignant tenderness was more powerful than ever. During the interminable delay, it had proven an awkward companion. “I promise by the time I’m finished with you, you’ll feel much better.”
“Wicked fellow.” She linked her hands behind his neck.
“I am indeed. And I intend to devote that wickedness to your enjoyment. I’m hoping some wickedness might even rub off on you.”
Her lips quirked. “That’s already happened. I used to be perfectly respectable, devil take you.”
She didn’t sound like she minded too much. He couldn’t help it. He kissed her again. She responded with sizzling enthusiasm, until he could manage only a single word. The question that thundered through every beat of his reckless heart. “When?”
She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Not now. Meg and Sally will be home soon from their shopping, and Morwenna is inside writing letters.”
“We could give her something interesting to write about.”
“Too interesting. You need to stop kissing me.”
“Never.” To prove it, he kissed her again. This time he lingered over her lips, relishing how she welcomed him into the honeyed heat of her mouth. By the time he raised his head, they were both gasping for breath.
“When you kiss me, I can’t think.” Arousal clouded her eyes.
“I haven’t been able to think since I met you.” His voice descended into stark sincerity. “You make me so happy.”
“You make me nervous and excited.” She paused. “And happy. I’m sure I should regret this headlong dash into sin.”
“Ah, sin,” he said on a voluptuous sigh.
“You’re incorrigible.” She laughed and pushed him away.
He let her go, content now that he had her promise. “When, when, when?”
She caught his hand. “So impatient.”
“Amy,” he growled. “You’ve teased me enough.”
She drew him down onto the charming stone bench where she’d sat watching the fountain. To his regret, she started to sound sensible again. How he’d loved seeing this clever, practical woman dizzy with excitement.
“It’s not straightforward. We need to be careful. Any scandal will hurt Meg’s chances. The world can’t know she’s sharing a house with Lord Pascal’s mistress.”
He liked the sound of that. He’d like the sound of Lord Pascal’s wife even more, but today he was content to postpone that discussion. “I want you to myself all night.”
Already she was shaking her head. “It’s too risky.”