Mr. Evans plunged his hands into her hair and angled her upward, changing the pleasure. This time the moan was hers. After exploring every inch of her mouth, he lured her with delicious nips and nibbles. She loved his rich taste. She pursued him, seeking more soul-melting kisses.
She was vaguely aware of Mr. Evans stroking her hips. When his hands cupped her buttocks, she started.
An intimation of danger pricked.
As her skirt inched upward, the breeze brushed her bare legs. A warning strove for purchase in her foggy mind. Mr. Evans had promised a kiss to enlighten ignorance. Now this encounter escaped those boundaries.
As if to confirm that thought, he pressed the small of her back, bringing her nearer. Inexperienced she might be. Stupid she wasn’t. And she’d lived in the country all her life. She couldn’t mistake that throbbing hardness against her stomach.
Roughly she broke away. “No.”
She wasn’t sure he heard. Or if he heard, whether he’d take note. Fear, long overdue, crammed her throat. Then to her relief, he released her and her skirt flopped to her ankles with a damp slap. He breathed unsteadily, but otherwise seemed unaffected.
Genevieve, on the other hand, felt like she’d barely survived a tempest. For one traitorous moment, her heart leaped with hope that his kiss had required feelings as well as technique. Then she reminded herself that she was safer by far if it hadn’t.
Unexpectedly his expression turned sheepish. “I apologize, Miss Barrett. You were right to stop me.”
She panted, still quivering with reaction. How could she have been so stupid to let this go so far? How could she have started at all?
The ghosts of his kisses lingered on Genevieve’s lips and in her mind. Grimly she suspected the ghosts of his kisses would haunt her for too long. Well after Mr. Evans forgot her.
For the first time, she comprehended the full extent of her rashness. She’d trusted his honor, and thank goodness, he hadn’t disappointed her. But after this glimpse of pleasure, the door to desire didn’t close as readily as she’d hoped.
“I must go.” Just as before, she didn’t move.
“Yes.”
Blast him. That monosyllable shouldn’t sound like an invitation to stay and explore new worlds. She leaned forward to claim another drugging kiss before lurching back to reality and stopping herself. Her yen for this man terrified her, as did the possibility that he might reveal her foolishness to the world. “You can’t say anything about this.”
His lips lengthened in an unamused smile. “I thought you intended to tell your father so he banished me from the vicarage.”
Admit that Mr. Evans had caught her swimming naked on Sedgemoor’s estate? Admit she’d kissed Mr. Evans? Lord above, it didn’t bear considering. “No.”
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
The silence extended. She knew they both relived those heady moments. She must go. Before he reached for her. Or heaven forbid, before she sprang at him and begged him to kiss her again and never stop.
“Good night, Mr. Evans.” The formality was ludicrous, but she desperately needed to establish some distance between them.
When he wasn’t being superior, he had a nice smile. “Good night, Miss Barrett.”
Dear God, what was wrong with her? She mooned after him like a twelve-year-old. She straightened and struggled to summon the scowl that usually greeted his attempts at charm. Except he wasn’t attempting charm. He was charming. And she was in dire trouble.
“To Hades with it,” he muttered. He seized her shoulders in an uncompromisi
ng grasp. Before she could protest or run—not that she tried to do either—he hauled her into his arms and kissed her hard.
That inexplicable feeling of familiarity returned. Before she could examine it, he released her and strode away under the trees, Sirius following.
Genevieve stood trembling where he’d left her. The moon slipped behind a cloud and the night turned dark and lonely. She drew a breath redolent of clean male scent. Clean. Tangy. Lemony.
Lemon verbena…
Chapter Nine
Mr. Evans was Genevieve’s inept burglar.
The next morning as she struggled to work in her study, the revelation still appalled her. How she kicked herself for taking so long to realize. The clues had always been there. The height. The subtle elegance. The beautiful voice. Curse him, the confidence with women. Although he’d been masked then, and now he dyed his hair. That dull brown had always seemed incongruous on such a spectacular man.