“I warned you.” Aidan sighed at the sight of his king, solidly cornered.
“How can you be so dismal at strategy and yet so good at your work?”
He shrugged unapologetically. “I suppose if there were some motivation for me to learn . . .”
“Like money?”
“Something like that, yes.”
“I’m afraid I’ve nothing to offer to sweeten the pot.” Kate regretted the flip words as soon as they left her mouth, but her wine-drugged blood sang sweetly at the sudden heat in his eyes.
“No? Nothing?”
Her lips dried. She licked them, inadvertently drawing his eyes to her mouth as she shook her head.
“And if I said you did?”
Unable to control the compulsion, she wet her lips again, fascinated by the way his jaw hardened at the sight. The wine was definitely affecting her judgment. She wished there were no table between them, wished he could simply lean toward her, lower his head and touch his mouth to hers. A small sigh escaped her at the thought, a heavy tension invaded her belly. She focused on his lips then, on the handsome shape of them and the firm line of his mouth. She wanted to remember how his lips felt on her skin, wanted to create new memories to replace the ones lost.
There were so many little things about him her mind had left behind. The thin white line of a scar trailed into his hairline at the right temple, the result of a childhood fall. A cowlick at the crown of his head that interfered with the careful, elegant cut of his dark hair and made her want to twirl a finger through the little swirl it created.
Her heart contracted at the thought of how he’d once belonged to her, how she’d once been able to reach out and touch him with perfect aplomb. Now she had no right to him, no reason to put a hand to the nape of his neck, no excuse to stroke her fingers over the short cut of his hair.
But perhaps he meant to give her that right. Aidan rose, but instead of walking away, he went to his knees in front of her. His hand brushed over her temple. “You never pierced your ears,” he said, his fingers brushing the sensitive lobe of her ear.
“Pardon?”
“You were so eager to.”
“How can you remember that?”
“I remember.” His hands edged farther back, sliding into her hair. The touch was slow, dreamy, and Kate’s eyes closed of their own accord.
“Your braid is coming loose,” he murmured, tugging softly at the leather tie. Both his hands slid through her hair, meeting at her neck to work out the tangled braid.
This was wrong. So wrong. But hot shivers of sensation moved over her scalp and down her neck and all the way to her toes. Pleasure trickled down her spine and gathered in a pool deep in her belly. She thought she would melt right through his fingers when he finally worked her hair free and ran his hands slowly through the strands, smoothing out the waves with gentle pressure.
Her head fell back under his ministrations, her mouth parted just slightly on a sigh. She wanted, feared, knew he was going to kiss her. The softest touch of warm breath caressed her lips and then it was him, his mouth, his lips against hers. The spicy warmth of wine invaded her senses until it was all she knew. It was comfort and unbearable excitement. It was fear and need and desperation.
Kate heard a soft sound of want, knew that it was her own quiet moan, and opened her mouth to him. His tongue glided inside. She felt the shock of it as if she’d never been kissed, as if all those kisses they’d once shared had been an invention of her lovesick brain. Still, she wasn’t tentative—sliding her tongue over his, she arched her neck into his hands, offered her mouth up for his pleasure.
It was his groan she heard this time as he deepened the kiss, his hands a wild tangle in her hair. Her heart swirled up and out of her chest with joy. She felt light as air and just as insubstantial, as if she would dissolve into puffs of clouds at the slightest touch.
Her fingertips tingled, wanting to float away, so she placed them purposefully against his chest to tether them to something solid. He was definitely solid. At that touch of his body, her spirit rushed back into her flesh. She was no longer feather light. She was hot and languid, heavy with the desire that pulsed through her veins. Terrible need blossomed in her when Aidan slid a firm hand down her side, following the line of her corset to her waist and then to the curve of her hip.
A strangled sob rose up in her throat, escaped against his lips. His hand tightened briefly on her hip and then he pulled back from her, abandoning her to her need. She curled her fingers into his coat, thinking she could simply hold on to him and stop this moment from ever ending, but his lips lifted from hers and he was whispering her name.
“Katie.”
She didn’t open her eyes, didn’t want to let the world back in.
“Are you all right?” His hand smoothed her hair again, hushing her vibrating nerves.
“No,” she answered with a small, hiccupping laugh.
“No?” His voice was a beautiful murmur as he pulled her a little closer and pressed a long, sweet kiss to her forehead. “No, I’m not all right either.”
What was she going to do now? Horror flooded through her.