“Surely it can’t be all that difficult to keep in mind.”
She laughed. “You’d be surprised. Really, I was just now wondering if perhaps there are problems in my own tin mines from which Mr. Peetree is protecting me.”
“If he has half a brain, he isn’t.”
“Thank you,” she said, reached out her hand, saw him frown at it, and drew it back.
He kept frowning, down at his boots now. “Rafael Carstairs seems to love his wife. I heard them laughing when I was still outside. Then I saw him kissing her.”
She swallowed, cocking her head to the side in question. “Why ever shouldn’t he love his wife?”
North merely shrugged and looked put out with himself for having said anything. “Nothing. She’s a woman, pretty, I suppose, but nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Well, her captain obviously thinks her beyond the ordinary.” She pushed a pile of peas into a small mound of potatoes and began mixing them together, saying, “Have you ever thought a woman beyond the ordinary, North?”
“No.”
“You’re very young yet, and a man. Perhaps you do need seasoning, perhaps even more ripening, before you’re able to attach yourself properly to a lady.”
“Perhaps, but doubtful. Is that what you believe Rafael Carstairs has done? Attached himself?”
“It sounds like it, according to Flash Savory. They sound as if they’re much in love.”
North grunted, saying only, “They probably haven’t been married all that long.”
“Not only are you not ripe, you’re a cynic. It doesn’t become you, North.”
He only shrugged. “Your pregnant girls will be arriving at Scrilady Hall tomorrow.”
“Coward,” she said under her breath but not under enough. However, he didn’t say anything. “Oh dear,” she added, choking on the tender bite of baked pheasant she’d just swallowed. “My pregnant girls. Oh dear.” She grabbed for a glass of water and drank deeply. She managed to catch her breath and wheeze out, “Oh, goodness, I must be there, North. I am feeling fine. Another night in this magnificent bed will see me fit as Mrs. Tailstrop’s pug, Lucy, a repellent animal but healthy nonetheless.”
“I’ll have Dr. Treath come and check you over tomorrow morning.”
“No, truly, I’m fine, North.” She gave him a crooked smile. “Besides, all your male minions will be so happy to see the back of my skirts, they’re likely to dance the waltz in the entrance hall. It’s a sight I don’t want to miss.”
“It’s possible. Very well, I’ll see you home tomorrow morning.”
“North?”
He turned and raised a dark eyebrow. His shining dark hair swung over his brow and onto his cheek and he looked as dangerous and brooding and as utterly fascinating as any gothic hero could ever look.
He looked magnificent and she said, “Perhaps you’d like to kiss me good night?”
14
HE FLINCHED AS if he’d been struck. The dark brooding hero was gone. In his place was a man who wanted to take flight immediately. He looked panicked. “No,” he said. However, after just a moment of hesitation he quickly walked back to her. He leaned over, lightly took her chin in his palm, and brought her face upward. “Damnation,” he said, his warm breath touching her flesh, “your mouth is delicious and soft and—” He kissed her then, teasing her with his tongue, caressing her mouth with his, lightly nipping at her lips, then licking where he’d nipped. He took her face between both his hands and sat down beside her. “This isn’t a good idea,” he said, and began kissing her again. “It’s a wretched idea. Any idea that feels like this has to be not onl
y bad, but dangerous as the Devil’s right hand.” His tongue glided over her bottom lip and the pressure deepened. She parted her lips to him and felt a jolt of sharp pleasure at the taste and feel of him in her mouth.
“Oh goodness,” she said, then wrapped her arms around his back, pulling him down with all her strength.
He did try, he truly did, to pull himself off her, but before he knew it, he was lying his full length on top of her and he could feel her belly beneath him through the covers and her nightgown.
He was pushing at her, not meaning to, but unable to stop himself. His mouth was more insistent now and his hand went unerringly to her breast. It was the touch of her soft flesh through the light lawn nightgown, her woman’s flesh fitting so perfectly into his hand that made him very nearly leap off the bed. He stood there over her, panting hard, his eyes nearly crossed with lust, knowing that if she weren’t so damned innocent she’d look at him and see how desperately he wanted her, to take her now, with no more of kissing or caressing, just thrust himself into her and feel her closing around him and knowing, simply knowing, that it would be unlike anything he’d ever known in his life.
“You’re leaving in the morning,” he said, panting as if he’d just run a mile. “You must. I can’t take this, I simply can’t.”
He strode away from her, not pausing even when she called out, “You’re being a coward again, North. A bloody coward.”