Page 64 of Counting on a Countess
In response, she released his arm and grabbed the back of his head. “Kiss me.”
He carefully pulled her hands away and set them on his chest. “No need for an attack, my love. I’m not running away. Here. Like this.” He lowered his head and softly, gently, took her lips with his. Then he pulled back just enough to ask, “Better, yes?”
“More,” she murmured.
He brought his mouth down on hers. This time, there was greater heat and intent. She responded at once, all of the pent-up yearning and emotion within her rising to the surface. He tasted delicious and masculine, kissing her skillfully. But then his restraint seemed to slip, and he nipped at her, as though unable to control his desire. She loved his loss of control, that she could inspire him to forget what he knew and simply respond naturally. When his tongue slipped between her lips and stroked hers, she moaned, opening for him.
Her concern about this, about what his touch would do to her, was forgotten. Who cared about sheltering her heart? All she knew was her body’s needs and her soul’s yearning for Kit.
His hand skimmed up along her ribs. She held her breath, waiting for his touch. At last, he cupped her breast, and no sensation had ever been better. His finger circled her taut nipple. She gasped with pleasure.
Then he was gone.
She opened her eyes to find him staring at her ravenously, his breath coming fast.
“Don’t stop,” she said.
“Three whiskies and one brandy equal an inability to control one’s faculties.” His voice was low and rough. “If you want me like this when you’re sober, we’ll take up where we left off.”
Before she could complain, he moved to the rear-facing seat. He winced a little as he sat, and Tamsyn risked a glance at his crotch. The front of his breeches tented. Shock and arousal battled within her to see how he was affected.
She pressed a hand to her vertiginous head. The rocking of the carriage made her dizziness worse.
“Close your eyes, love,” he said. “If there’s anything to be said, it should wait for a more sober moment.”
“Wise,” she murmured, her lids drifting shut as she leaned against the side of the carriage. “You’re a wise man, Kit.”
“Only sometimes,” he answered, his voice sounding quite dry.
The next time Tamsyn opened her eyes, she was in his arms. The ceiling above looked vaguely familiar before she realized that they’d arrived home at some point. He now carried her upstairs.
She kept her lashes lowered, so he wouldn’t know that she was awake.
How easily he supported her! She felt his strength as he took the stairs without struggle, even though she was sprawled in his arms.
In a few moments, they had reached her room. Kit walked to the bed, then gently laid her down atop the covers. She held still as his steady hands undid the ribbons of her slippers. He pulled the shoes from her feet and, presumably, set them on the ground.
She thought that with his duty discharged, he would leave. Instead, he came back around the side of the bed and gazed down at her with an unreadable expression. He brushed a few strands of hair off her forehead, yet made no other move to touch her.
Kit exhaled. “Right,” he said softly. Then he turned and left, shutting the door quietly behind him.
She lay in bed, unmoving. The only sound in the room was the crackle of the fire and the tick of the clock.
The sound reminded her of important obligations. Despite Jory’s dislike of letters, she’d written him early in the day asking that he wait before selling Chei Owr to any prospective buyers because she had a lead on one here in London. That would have to do until she could find some way to return to Cornwall and offer for the house herself.
Then, using coded language, she’d sent another note this morning to the fence recommended by footman Liam. Mr. Jayne had responded also using veiled words, agreeing to meet her tomorrow. Getting out of the house without attracting too much of Kit’s attention would be a challenge.
He’d been so attentive tonight, so focused on her enjoyment and her needs. And he’d been honorable, too, in refusing to take advantage of her inebriated state. Her heart and body craved him powerfully as though he’d taken up space beside her very bones. And her lonely, tender soul wanted everything he could give her—companionship, affection, respect.
Against her better judgment, she was developing feelings for him. Dangerous feelings.
Chapter 16
“I have an errand to run,” Tamsyn announced offhandedly.
Sitting at the breakfast table, Kit looked up from sorting through a stack of invitations. After their appearance at the theater, word had apparently gotten out that he and his new wife were out in public. Now he and Tamsyn received invitations by the heap, including social functions with some of theton’s most respected figures. When he’d been a bachelor, the requests for his presence had come with a little less frequency, likely because everyone knew he wouldn’t go anywhere that was part of the Season’s sanctioned events.
Tamsyn gazed at him with an easy smile, the morning light painting her in soft hues as she sat beside him at the table. She showed no signs of her worry that, after last night’s heated kiss, he’d lunge across the table and ravish her in the breakfast room.
