Page 38 of Season of the Scoundrel
Even as she said it, the admission made her chest ache. How could she want him and yet have no wish to be the sort of lady he needed most?
And she did want him. The notion of ending the false engagement felt freeing, yet the prospect of never having a moment on intimacy with him again felt wrong.
Ross stood and looked down at her. “Do you not understand how much I admire you, Ivy Bridewell.”
Ivy swallowed hard. “We hardly know each other.”
A smile flashed across his face. “I know enough and quite look forward to learning more.”
“And if I wish to become a private investigator?”
He chuckled. “If you wanted it, I know you’d find a way.”
“A duchess detective?” Ivy tried to scoff at the notion, but it was impossible to be adamant when he was looking at her as if she was the thing he wanted most in the world.
“I have only one question for you,” he said, reaching for her hand, waiting to see if she would give hers to him.
Ivy did, lacing their fingers as they’d been a moment ago. “What is it?”
“Do you feel it too?” he said softly, lifting their joined hands and holding them against his chest. “What’s between us?”
“Yes.” Ivy felt such relief when the word was out, as if all the fears and worries and doubts were small compared to the certainty she felt in that yes.
A storm of emotions seemed to play out in Ross’s gaze, surprise and happiness and then a determination as fierce as her own.
He lifted a hand, stroking her cheek, then slipping his fingers into her hair to cup her nape.
“Then that’s all that matters.”
CHAPTER 10
She felt it too.
At that moment, nothing in his life, either inherited or earned, felt as significant as that singleyesfrom her lips.
Ross dipped his head to kiss Ivy, but she’d already arched up onto her toes, leaned her body into his and pressed her lips to his.
He took it for the gift it was, pulled her closer, wrapping her in his arms. And she rewarded him by opening to him, letting him taste her, stroke his tongue into her mouth, kiss her again and again until he they were both breathless.
“Ivy…” The single shred of rational thought he had left told him that he could not take this where he wanted to. Not yet.
“Will you take me upstairs?” she asked.
It was as if she could divine the thoughts in his head, as if their desires were in harmony.
“If I do?—”
She reached down, clasped his hand, and led him to the drawing room door. Ross shifted his hand to entwine their fingers, and they climbed the stairs side by side.
Once they were inside his suite, she strode away from him, taking the room in, always curious, always inspecting. With herback to him, she studied a painting he’d acquired recently. Ross approached to stand behind her, suddenly unable to bear any separation between them.
“You think I’m being reckless again.” The words emerged quietly, not a question but a statement.
“I don’t want you to have a single regret,” he told her honestly.
He couldn’t imagine anything worse than finally admitting their desire for each other, only to have it drive a wedge between them.
Spinning to face him, she reached up and gripped the edges of his loosened bow tie, working the knot free and then sliding the strip of fabric from his neck.
