He didn't immediately react, so she did it again. Another disappointing lack of response, although a hum emerged from his throat.
Her skills must be rusty. She battled to recall what had once been so spontaneous. It had taken her so long to want to kiss a man again. She had no intention of retiring defeated.
Seeking a clue to how to approach him, she studied Mr. Townsend. He looked disgruntled and bewildered—as well he might, given the way she'd pushed him away after that first tempestuous kiss.
She sucked in a shuddering breath, told herself to be brave, and slid her hand up his chest and around that powerful neck. Tension turned the muscles under her fingers to rock.
Fenella stroked her other hand down his face, tracing the strong, austere bones. She'd forgotten, too, how fascinatingly different a man's body was from hers. And Anthony Townsend had struck her from the first as an uncompromisingly masculine man. She drew his head down and ran her lips over that obstinate jaw.
A muscle flickered in his cheek and his breath emerged on a hiss. "Blast you, lass, you test me too far."
Implacable hands caught her waist. For a fraught instant, she wasn't sure if he meant to push her away or drag her closer. That strained, striking face told her he wasn't sure either.
He hauled her against him. She braced for another demonstration of male power.
But this kiss was different. His lips wooed and sipped and tasted. They requested her cooperation instead of demanding it. How could she say no? With a sigh, she gave herself up to him.
* * *
Fenella Deerham was as luscious as a ripe peach, as fragrant as a rose, as soft as new fallen snow. Anthony hungered to seize her and use her for his relentless enjoyment until they sprawled, wrung out and sated.
But even now, when she melted in wordless consent, he wasn't a complete fool. Although he'd been close to completely witless since, instead of slapping his face, she'd launched a seduction of her own.
This was a woman to treasure, not commandeer.
So he eased his death grip on her waist—despite the urge to clutch her tight and never let go—and rather than ravishing her mouth, he played lazily with her lips. Little kisses. A stroke of the tongue too brief to threaten invasion. A nibble here. A nip there.
The storm inside him eased, and languorous pleasure became its own reward. The night and the rambling old house closed around them in soft embrace.
Anthony caught her head between his hands as he pursued his sensual discovery. The full lower lip. The precise cut of her upper lip. The indented corners. He dared a sweep of his tongue along the closed seam, provoking a quick gasp of breath, but didn't press his advantage. He felt like he had all the time in the world to gain a fuller surrender.
The kiss continued in sweet innocence. Although he'd had no claim to innocence since boyhood, and Fenella had known a husband's love. But still her kiss held a delicately untried quality. He recalled with a stab of indefinable emotion that this beautiful woman hadn't had a lover in over five years.
So his touch remained exploratory, rather than insistent, tender rather than passionate. However powerfully passion strained to break free.
"For pity's sake, Anthony, kiss me like you mean it," she gasped.
He gave a brief laugh and ran his lips down her throat, making her shiver. At last she'd called him Anthony—and without him asking. "Don't you like this?"
She made a wordless protest. "You know I do."
He commanded his hands to hold her lightly, despite driving need, as he scraped his teeth along the graceful curve where neck met shoulder. She smelled delicious there. Warm. Womanly. Needy. "So?"
She tugged sharply at his hair. His rose had thorns—he relished that hint of spice under all the sugar. "I'd like it more if you stopped treating me like I might shatter."
"Very well," he said and wrapped his arms around her. A step or two, and she lay flat under him on the chaise longue.
Blue eyes widened with shock. Now she knew exactly how much he wanted her. "Mr. Townsend?"
A wry smile twisted his lips. "I was Anthony last time."
"Perhaps…perhaps we should stand up."
He rose on his elbows. She was so delightfully ruffled and flushed, he couldn't resist another kiss. She spread beneath him like every dream come true. "I won't do anything you don't want me to."
She was clever enough to see the flaw in his offer. "That's no protection."
He frowned faintly. "Fenella, I swear I won't trespass beyond a few kisses. Despite wanting more."