Clem shoved up onto her elbows then eased up to sitting. A small part of her wanted to loop her arms around her legs and drop her head to her knees. It would be easier than looking at him in all his mussed glory or consider the fact she would never experience his mouth upon hers again. Why, oh why was the first man she’d ever truly wanted entirely inappropriate for her?
“I suppose we had—”
“Shall we—” He stopped and looked at her. “Yes?”
Her heart gave a little squeeze at how he examined her. He was a grown man of thirty something, yet at that moment he looked almost boyish, vulnerable. She flexed her fingers against the cool wooden floorboards and looked away. Whatever she did, she could not go back to him and absolutely must not touch him again. For whatever reason, as soon as they connected physically her whole world imploded, and no reason or rational thought could combat the sensation. Trust her to be attracted to a man essentially considered an enemy.
She gave in and dropped her head to her knees.
“Musgrave,” he said softly.
She twisted her head to eye him, keeping the side of her head pressed to her knee.
“We cannot let that happen again.”
She nodded.
“I willnotlet that happen again.”
“Neither will I,” she agreed.
∞∞∞
It would be too easy to roll over and take her in his arms again. Too easy and too tempting. Did she have any idea how she looked, even when curled up in a ball? Long strands of red hair trailed down her back, glinting in the sunlight. Roman wanted to put his hands to her neck again and feel those soft strands. He wanted to touch every inch of her. To feel her mouth upon his. He should have known a Musgrave wouldn’t kiss like an innocent. The moment her tongue had touched his he’d practically been lost.
Thank the Lord she reminded him that no matter how well she kissed, shewasan innocent and this was entirely inappropriate. The tremble that wracked her shot him straight back to reality. He was the man here, the gentleman, and he should never have touched her let alone kissed her.
How damned frustrating it was then that he wanted to wrap an arm about her shoulders and press kisses to her cheek and down her neck until he had her laid out on the floor again.
Her tongue darted over her lips, and he gritted his teeth.
“I suppose we should continue searching.” She nodded toward one set of shelves. “I still haven’t searched there.”
“I—”
“You probably have other things to do,” she said, her eyes wide. “Forgive me.”
He did. And even if Roman didn’t, he should say that he did. Anything to put some distance between them. But when she struggled to push to standing, he found himself aiding her up and letting her rest upon him as he moved her toward the bookshelf in question.
“There’s nothing urgent.”
Not a lie, per se, but he didn’t know why he said it. By rights, he should be sprinting away from his aunt’s house as fast as he could manage and ideally hiding away in his remote Scottish castle or, better yet, finding himself a villa in Spain and remaining there. Anything to put distance between him and the woman he could not seem to resist kissing or nearly kissing, no matter how much his mind protested.
His damned body just did not want to listen to reason.
“Well, then...” She gave a strained smile and he jerked away from her when he realized he still had a hand upon her back.
“I’ll, uh...” He waved at the other end of the bookshelf. “I’ll search over there.” Glancing down at the toes peeking out from the hem of her skirts, he frowned. Was he conjuring up some sort of odd fetish for stockinged feet or was it just Clementine’s feet that drew him in? “Are you certain you should not rest?” He didn’t much fancy facing Violet’s wrath if he allowed her sister to become further injured.
Clementine shook her head vigorously, making the loose curls bounce against her neck. He swallowed hard and clamped his hands together behind his back. No, it wasn’t the toes. It was all of her. It was the wild curls, the freckles that danced across her skin, the determined manner in which she moved through life.
He never thought there was much to be admired about the Musgraves but if his family’s fight to become respectable again taught him anything, it was that fortitude and grit were commendable traits indeed.
After taking several steps sideways, he forced himself to focus on the books in front of him. Somehow, after kissing Clementine, they did not seem so daunting. Perhaps after facing down a Musgrave, one felt one could do anything. He smirked to himself. They should send these women into combat to rally a battle cry.
“Oh!”
He didn’t know how many more books he’d searched by the time he heard her cry. He dashed over before he registered the bold smile upon her lips. “Your ankle?”