She looked at him, confused.
“But I am glad you are,” he continued, his gaze shifting to her lips. He licked his. “I’ve been quite curious about how you taste.”
His fingers tightened in her hair and he pulled her head down to his. He paused just before their lips met, his curving into a small smile. “Yes,” he murmured, “quite curious indeed.”
Mr. Grant closed the small distance between them, his lips capturing hers with confidence and skill. Sara held herself rigidly, unsure of what to do, how to react. It was a foreign experience, having a man kiss her. Her eyes were wide open, but all she could see was him. His own eyes were closed again and she felt his breath against her cheek, his nose nestled against hers.
He shifted, angling his head and his lips, both firm and gentle, moved over hers, caressing her mouth. Warmth slipped out of his mouth and over her skin, burrowing itself into her pores. It was an odd sensation, but not unpleasant. In fact, Sara was even beginning to enjoy it. Her eyes fluttered shut and a small sigh escaped her as she began to move her lips in rhythm with his, provoking an answering moan from the man beneath her.
He tightened his grip on her hair and his kiss grew more pressing. When his tongue traced her lips, touching them for the first time, a thrill shot down her neck and she trembled. When his tongue came out again, she eagerly met it with her lips, the slight opening giving him all the space he needed to slip in.
Heavens.
Mr. Grant seemed to like it when she mimicked him, so she followed his retreating tongue into his mouth, playfully dancing with it as he had with hers. With each pass of his tongue, her mind emptied more and more until that remained was awareness of him.
Sara didn’t know how long the kiss lasted; her senses were consumed by him, by the feel of his lips and tongue against hers, the pounding of his heart beneath her hand. It was with disappointment that she realized the kiss was slowing, that he intended to pull away.
When he did, Sara slowly opened her eyes, needing to concentrate on focusing. Mr. Grant leaned his head against the chair, and though his eyes were still closed, a smile covered his face. His arms around her had loosened and fallen away.
“Ah, my dream Nymph,” he said. “You did not disappoint.”
Sara stared, reality crashing around her once more. Mr. Grant had not actually been kissing her, but a dream. He didn’t think she was even here.
Shame and embarrassment filled her stomach, sickening her. Her first kiss and the man was too drunk to even know she was there.
She pushed away from him and got to her feet. Her fingers were shaking as she smoothed her dress. Spying her bonnet on the sofa, she reached for it.
“Yes, dream Nymph, leave me. As always, leave me.”
She glanced back at Mr. Grant to see him watching her through narrow eyes. The smile remained on his face, and he waved her away dismissively before he closed his eyes again and settled deeper into the chair.
Gripping her bonnet, Sara left, her dignity in tatters around his feet. She kept her eyes on the floor, the carpets and dark wood blurry through the pooling tears. Stumbling back into the darkened corridor, she saw that George was still arguing with the horrid butler.
She headed straight for the still open door. She heard George call out her name, but she didn’t stop until she had climbed back onto the cart.
She needed as much distance between her and Windent Hall, and its master, as she could get.
Her mother shrieked in her ear. Hussy!
Nathan opened his eyes into inky darkness. For a moment, the thought that he had gone blind scattered across his mind, but after blinking a few times, he was able to make out the shapes of nearby furniture in the moonlight. Given the cottony dryness of his mouth and the ache in his neck, the truth settled over him, unwelcome.
He had passed out in the library again.
He allowed himself a small smile. Despite the ache and dryness of his mouth, this was the one time he didn’t regret he had. His dream Nymph had visited again, but this time she had allowed him liberties she hadn’t before. Prior to this dream, she had danced away from him, always out of reach.
But last night—or this afternoon?—had been different. Before she could escape, he had captured his Nymph and held her close.