The impact was considerably greater than if she’d boxed his ears.
“Thank you. I hadn’t thought of it like that.” The power behind her smile faded as fondness crept in. “He’s been so intent on rushing off, keeping himself busy out of the house, that I’ve hesitated to…well, rein him in and test him in harness, so to speak. But if in reality he’s chafing at the bit, then I will. Thank you for the hint.”
“My pleasure.” It was easy to smile back.
When he remained against the door, watching her, his smile still softening the hard planes of his face, Madeline felt her instincts twitch. She raised her brows. “Was there something else?”
“No.” His smile widened in a way she recognized well enough to distrust. “I’m just waiting for you to thank me.”
“I just did.”
“Appropriately.”
Her lips parted to repeat the word; abruptly, she shut them. She narrowed her eyes. “I am not kissing you again.”
His untrustworthy smile deepened. “How do you plan to leave here?”
Belatedly, she glanced around.
“The stair beyond this door is the only way down.”
She swung away and marched down the battlements; she didn’t need to go far to see that there was, indeed, no other exit—no door, not even a dormer window.
Stalking back to where he patiently waited, shoulders against the door, she halted a pace away. Holding back her hair as the breeze swooped past, she glared at him. “You are so…” Momentarily lost for words, she gestured wildly with one hand.
“Good at this?”
She uttered a frustrated hiss. “Irritating!” She felt like stamping her foot. “For heaven’s sake—”
Gervase leaned forward, grasped her waist, lifted her to him, then let her fall against him.
With a smothered squeak she did, her long limbs flush against his, her breasts to his chest, her hips to his upper thighs.
Every nerve, every muscle in his body snapped to attention. Including…
Something she, plastered against him, couldn’t possibly mistake. He saw her eyes widen. He smiled—intently. “Just so.”
He bent his head and kissed her.
Her lips had parted in shock; he took immediate advantage and claimed her mouth. Claimed, tasted, plundered just a little before settling to entice.
She didn’t physically struggle—her body remained passive in his arms, instinctively accepting his embrace—but she battled nonetheless, fighting doggedly and valiantly to hold aloof.
His lips on hers, his tongue stroking hers, his instincts pressed him to wage war against her—against her will, weakening it so her desire could triumph, and she would surrender and be willingly his. Yet as he angled his head over hers and engaged with her more definitely, he was strangely aware of a dichotomy within, of his warrior’s instinct—a primal conviction that he had every right to claim the woman in his arms—clashing with an equally insistent sense that with her he needed to be giving. To persuade and negotiate, not force and insist.
He didn’t want to rule her; he wanted her by his side, a willing partner, a helpmate—his wife.
The thought slid through his mind, gentled his approach—and all but instantly delivered a reward. Her resistance wavered; immediately he set himself to tempt her more, to beckoningly tease, to seduce in earnest.
Her lips softened, then returned the pressure of his—more impulse than considered action—but then she realized, froze for a heartbeat—then gave up. Gave in. Stopped fighting and joined him.
Her sudden change of tack—not capitulation so much as embracing the inevitable—left him momentarily adrift, mentally scrambling to adjust his strategy, then her hands, until then pressed against his upper chest, slid up to his shoulders, gripped, then one eased and slid to his nape, then further into his hair, fingers twisting, lightly gripping…an evocative urging his instincts needed no help to translate.
He responded, more driven than deliberate, yielding to her demand and letting their mouths meld, their tongues tangle in a more flagrant, more explicit engagement than any he’d planned.
She met him, was with him, through the greedy, heated caress. Urged him on with a small gasp when he broke the kiss, sliding his lips to the hollow beneath her ear while his chest swelled and he dragged in a breath.
But then he returned to her mouth, too hungry, not yet appeased—any more than she was.