Peter smiled and dipped his quill into the inkpot, ready to take down her words. He couldn’t wait to see what she would come up with. “That sounds easy enough.”

At Imogen’s silence, he glanced over his shoulder.

She stood where he’d left her, fingers still tightly clenched about the walking stick, her teeth worrying her lower lip.

“Imogen?”

“I have no words yet.”

“Good, because I need more than one kiss to start my day.” Peter tossed the quill away, headed for the door, and quietly pushed it closed. He tugged Imogen into his arms, taking the walking stick from her hands and setting it aside. He inhaled the subtle perfume that clung to her skin. Lavender and another scent he couldn’t place. Not a trace of fragrance that would make him sneeze. Then he remembered being with Imogen had always improved his mood.

He brushed his lips against hers softly, marveling he had the chance he should have taken long ago to prove he was a man of passion. Imogen sighed once and then she kissed him back, mouth molding to his, delightful body pressing closer.

He explored her delicious curves slowly with his hands, unwilling to rush even though his pulse raced with excitement. He couldn’t wait to touch her bare skin and looked forward to the day when she would be his wife. The passion he sensed in her last night had exceeded his wildest dreams. They would be happy together if she’d just concede that he was right. They needed each other.

Suddenly, Imogen pushed hard against his chest until he released her. Although her face was flushed and her chest rose and fell quickly, she merely stared at his waistcoat with a determined expression on her face and said nothing to him.

Alarmed by her sudden withdrawal, Peter scrambled to apologize. “I’m sorry. What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said and then rose on her toes, caught him about the neck to pull him close again. She kissed him soundly. “You did something incredibly right. Quickly, write this down exactly as I say it.”

Peter spun back to the desk, adjusting the bulge in his trousers before he sat and cursed the end of his exploration. He dipped the nib in the inkpot and quickly scratched out what Imogen said next. She paced behind him and spoke at a speed that he could write to but an hour later, when she’d not paused for longer than a breath, he begged a halt. He threw the quill away and flexed his fingers. “My hand hurts like the very devil itself.”

She drew close behind him and caressed his shoulders, sending goose flesh racing all over his body. “Forgive me. Did you manage to write any of it down?”

He looked up at her and admired the contented smile lingering on her face. “I believe I caught every word. Not exactly neat but still legible.”

Her fingers slipped forward and caressed his cheek tentatively. “I’m surprised that worked so well.”

Even as his desire soared again, set free by her exploration, a thought occurred to him. “You could have hired a secretary long before this.”

Her hands twisted into the hair at his nape. “I doubt I could have found the courage to let a stranger hear such terrible words.”

Although he didn’t mind Imogen touching him in the least, Peter shoved back his chair and pulled her into his lap so he could touch her too. “I was captivated. I have a hundred questions about the heroine already.”

She laughed and her fingers rose to his face again, covering his lips. “No questions yet. Save them until the end.”

“As you wish but keeping my curiosity at bay will likely prove difficult.”

Her fingers danced lightly over his sideburns and the edge of his ear. “That was the roughest of drafts. Later, when each sentence has been polished to brightness, it will be a work to be proud of.”

He kissed the tip of her nose and then her cheek. “I’m proud of you now.”

She wriggled, innocently brushing her hip against his hardening length. “Shall we give your poor hand a break?”

“Thank you.” He looked longingly at the bed and then the door where he was startled to find Walter standing, one eyebrow raised in question. He nodded and Walter went away. Since a romp between the sheets sadly could not be accomplished he’d have to settle for kissing her instead. He wasn’t entirely disappointed. Peter caught her lips gently with his and kissed her urgently before Walter came back to check on them again.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Imogen gripped Walter’s arm, aware that unknown persons surrounded them and that she could appear clumsy if she didn’t pay strict attention to where she placed her feet. The day was warm, a light breeze blew in from the sea, but she could not concentrate on enjoying the outing for Walter was not always the best of guides. “Promise you will not abandon me today,” she demanded

Walter sighed loudly, his arm tensing beneath hers. “I’ve already promised you my full attention for the duration of the outing. What more do you want from me?”

She tightened her grip further and leaned toward him. “Leaving me alone with Sir Peter so often this week is a sign of absolute neglect for my reputation.”

“Are you still annoyed over that?” Walter patted her hand. “He seems to have the making of a devoted secretary. Where’s the impropriety in the business arrangement we struck?”

Imogen snorted. “Business arrangements are not conducted in that fashion.”


Tags: Heather Boyd Miss Mayhem Historical