Indeed, he was more than tempted to kiss her, more than tempted to lay her down on the damp grass and thrust home.
“Helen, I don’t have long.” If he meant to make his escape, he needed to cover ten miles before the guests took their digestifs. He pressed his forehead to hers—a silent way of saying goodbye, the intimacy of the moment only intensifying the inner ache.
Helen looked up at him, her mouth an inch from his. “Perhaps you should kiss me. Before the guard calls you back to your temporary prison.”
The muscles in his abdomen clenched. Like a condemned man’s last meal, he would sup from her lips so he might die contented.
He might have stopped to ask why she wanted him.
He might have questioned her logic.
But he was a man on the brink of desperation.
He lowered his head as she came up on her toes. The air between them thrummed wildly as if every atom wished to celebrate their union.
Their parted mouths met, his breath mingling with hers.
She inhaled, drawing him into the depths of her body, taking some part of him deep inside her. Then, after wanting her for what seemed like a lifetime … he kissed her.
Her lips were soft.
Her taste like the nectar of the gods.
In mythology, nectar had the magical property to grant immortality. Nicholas knew there were not enough days in one lifetime to sate his craving. It was said one’s life force would fade if denied the drink. He would be but a fragment of himself if he never got the chance to taste her again.
With his life hanging in the balance, he found he couldn’t pull away. And while she appeared to be revelling in the somewhat chaste kiss, he wanted to leave her gasping, panting. Breathless.
Drawing her tighter to his body, he teased her lips apart and let her feel the first tantalising touch of his tongue. Then he slipped deep into her wet mouth, the action causing his cock to raise its head, eager to experience the same sensation.
She, too, must have tasted nectar on his lips. It must have ignited a fire in her veins because she flung her arms around his neck, ground her hips against his, and devoured his mouth like a woman starved of affection.
Their tongues mated in maddening urgency. He made love to her mouth the way he wanted to make love to her body. Thrusting with measured strokes. Delighting in her wetness. Each plunge hardening his cock.
He broke for breath and to calm his pulse before they ended up a tangle of sweat-soaked limbs on the grass.
But the minx twirled her fingers into his hair, driving him to distraction. “Nicholas, don’t stop. Never stop kissing me.”
The comment proved sobering.
What the hell was he thinking?
Indeed, he was not thinking at all. He was lost in a haze of lust and longing, indulging in all the physical aspects of love.
“Helen,” he began, taking hold of her wrists and bringing her arms to her sides. “We’re in danger of losing ourselves in the moment.”
She gazed at him, her gem-green eyes luminous in the moonlight, looking more alive than she had in days. “Yes, was it not utterly divine?”
Kissing her was beyond divine.
“More than I can express in words,” he said, dismissing the urge to throw her over his shoulder and make her an outlaw, too. “But I need to go before someone realises I am missing.”
She jerked to her senses, her eyes widening in alarm. “Yes! Yes, you must hurry back to the house before Mr Hope sends the guard to look for you.”
He hated deceiving her.
But while he’d sworn never to harbour his mother’s traits, he didn’t know what else to do. And so he said the only thing he could under the circumstances. The one truth in all of this godforsaken mess.
“Whatever problems present themselves,” he said, stroking the backs of his fingers across her cheek, his stomach twisting in knots at the thought of leaving her, “remember, all that matters to me is protecting you.”