Right.
It was the only option.
He pulled back, tearing his mouth from hers, and took her waist in his hands, gently setting her a foot away from him. They stood apart, panting, staring at each other, trying to grasp what exactly had just happened. She opened her mouth to ask the question he could see poised on her lips. He held up a hand to stop it.
“You are not terrible at kissing,” he said.
“Then why—”
“You know why, Miss Windermere.”
Surely, she did. Him kissing her and cupping her firm, round bottom. Her caressing his full-to-bursting cock. Them going at each other against a tree…
It was all wrong.
She was a relation of his closest friend.
And she was a virgin.
He was no despoiler of virgins.
The question left her eyes. “I see.”
Of a sudden, she was no longer the Miss Windermere he’d been kissing seconds ago, but rather the Miss Windermere he’d known all these years—cool, collected, and not particularly impressed by him.
Clearly, he’d done something wrong.
But he couldn’t think of what—for he’d done the right thing.
He supposed doing right could be wrong under certain circumstances.
Although Miss Windermere looked in no mood to enlighten him.
She stepped to the edge of the lean-to, stuck her head out, and peered up at the sky. “Looks like the rain has let up.”
Thunder rumbled in the distance. “But not for long,” said Rory, shedding his greatcoat. “Take this.”
“But I—”
“Take it.” She wasn’t the only one with a stubborn streak.
She did as told.
“If we leg it,” he said, joining her at the edge of the leaky roof, “we can make it to Baile Ìm before the next round of storms start up.”
He didn’t have to tell her twice as she hitched up her skirts to her knees and streaked across the field.
As he followed, and kept his eyes fast on her, he could hardly countenance the Miss Juliet Windermere who had revealed herself to him these last few days.
She wasn’t at all the person he’d assumed her all these years.
He wanted to know more of her.
And he would.
Chapter Seven
Five hours later