Page 11 of Married to the Lord

“Gus.” Her eyes widened at his use of her childhood nickname. But he did not feel bad about using it. How much easier it was when they were younger and he could speak to her freely, without fear of convention or society.

“Gus,” he repeated. “I must caution you about doing anything foolish.”

Her brows creased. “Foolish? I do not see how I am doing anything foolish.”

He eyed her. “I do understand that you have been waiting a long time. But Henry will return for you.”

She pressed her lips together. “Do you truly believe that, Miles?” She turned away and rested her elbows upon the stone balustrade. Lanterns lit around the gardens and the glow from the windows warmed her skin as the moon vanished behind a cloud but it highlighted her frustrated expression.

Miles curled a hand at his side. There was nothing he wanted more than to provide her with comfort. To tell her he would fix all of this. Drag Henry back by his ear…or even his balls. Better yet, force her to break off the engagement and…well…

But she loved Henry. She’dalwaysloved Henry. It had been clear to them all from when she was a young girl. If he could give her what she wanted, he would do it, no matter the cost to himself. However, he could not have her damaging her reputation in some misguided attempt at drawing Henry back to her.

“I do,” he lied. “Why would he not?”

“I almost do not blame him for staying away.” She peered at her gloved hands, turning them over to stare at her palms. “What can I offer him? He is out in the world, no doubt enjoying himself. If he returns to me—” She peered sideways at him. “I am not the sort of woman who can compete with the world.”

“I never had you marked as a fool.” He mimicked her posture, bringing his elbows to rest on the stone next to her. A few inches separated them and the scent of flowers teased him with each tiny breath of wind.

“Well that is comforting, thank you.”

He chuckled at her vexed tone. “You think because you are quiet and shy, you have nothing to offer a man? Gus, that’s preposterous.” He slid a hand over hers before he considered the action, aligning his palm along hers. His fingers dwarfed hers, hiding the white satin gloves entirely. He slid his fingers between hers and she responded, curling her fingers so the fabric-covered tips entwined with his.

A silent thrill ripped through him, practically tearing his heart asunder. He should not be doing this. Should not be relishing this. Certainly should not be committing the feeling to memory.

She was his brother’s fiancée. His brother’s damn fiancée.

Still, he remained, her hand clasped in his. A contact too intimate for mere friends or almost relatives.

“I have my doubts. I cannot claim to relish being afflicted with such a temperament that I can never fully express who I am.”

“Even to m—?” He caught himself. “Uh, even to Henry?”

She lifted a shoulder. “Henry shines brightly indeed. It is hard to appear anything but dull beside him.”

“Gus,” he said, his voice rough. “You are never dull.”

Especially out here, with the breeze whispering through her hair, making her curls an impossible temptation to touch. She exhaled and he heard the frustration held within that one breath. She slowly unlooped her fingers from his and turned.

“I should go back inside. I told myself I would brood no longer.”

“Gus, wait—” He moved swiftly, taking hold of her wrist, Keeping her captive. Keeping her here. With him. He didn’t even know what he wanted to say, what he could possibly say. Nothing proper to be certain. A riot of wholly improper thoughts raced through his mind followed by the burning temptation on his tongue to tell her how much he admired her, how beautiful, brave, and lovely she was.

“Miles?”

One syllable. That was all it took to unravel him. However, instead of spilling out his heart to her, he tugged her into him, finding it easy to draw in the slender woman until her free hand was pressed to his chest. She looked up at him, eyes wide and dark and intriguing. Soft-looking lips parted and a rush of agonizing need coursed through him, sending his very nerve-endings alight.

How many times had he thought of taking Augustus in his arms?

How many times had he tried to deny he’d suffered such thoughts?

There was no denying this moment, however.

“Miles?” she said again, the word whispering into the light breeze. The moon’s cold rays cast over her skin and his heart thudded heavily in his ears at the sight she offered. He released her wrist with every intention of turning away.

But she remained there, damn it. Lips still parted, eyes still wide. A picture of innocence and perfection that he wanted to get his sullied hands on.

“Christ,” he muttered as he took her face in his hands, vaguely aware of the softness of her skin before he dipped his head and captured her lips with his. She uttered a gasp but he swallowed the sound swiftly, all the pain and frustration of never having been able to touch her before being channeled into his movements.

He kissed her fiercely. Hard. Desperately. She tasted of sweet wine and sugar. Her fingers curled into his shoulders and her hips swayed into his. Fire unfurled through him at these tiny responses. With a groan, he kissed her again and again, heedless as to their proximity to the drawing room, uncaring for whether they could be caught or not. One desire drove him—his need for Augustus.

Laughter shattered the air. Miles broke away even though she showed no sign of wishing to end the kiss and the laughter was some distance away. He kept a hold of her face, letting her warm, ragged breaths wash over his lips. His chest rose and fell as he gulped down air. He rubbed his thumbs over her cheeks, looking into eyes that were clouded with confusion and—dare he believe it—desire.

“Gus,” he murmured, resting his forehead briefly on hers before dropping his hand from her face. He should probably beg for forgiveness. Get on his knees and offer her penance. But how the hell could such a moment be wrong?

He shook his head, more at himself than anything. How did he let himself get in this situation in the first place? He should have known he would not be able to control himself once alone with her.

Her fingers came to her lips, touching them as though he had singed her with his kiss. She opened her mouth then shut it. He did not blame her. There was nothing that could be said. He dipped his head briefly and headed inside, fighting the desire to turn back and look at her…or worse, take her in his arms once more.

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