Page 28 of The Lyon Whisperer
She ought not stare—even if he seemed to be staring at her with equal boldness.
With an effort of will, she dropped her gaze and got as far as his mouth. Broad, reddish lips, not too full, yet not thin by any means. Indeed, just the right shape. Her belly trembled and an unfamiliar warmth coiled through her.
Dear Heaven.
“If you’re sure, I’ll escort you to your chambers.” His knuckles traced the line of her jaw. “If you have a mind to, however, I thought you might like to see the gardens below your window up close—at night.”
She did enjoy gardens, and she couldn’t say she’d ever experienced one at night under the light of a full moon like the one she thought she’d glimpsed in the dusk sky. “Very well, if it pleases you.”
The slow smile curving his mouth upward said it did.
He tucked herhand in the crook of his elbow and led her at a leisurely pace through the manse toward his office, and the doors which opened to the garden therein. There were more expeditious routes, and he wasn’t sure why he’d chosen to take her this way.
Then again, there was nothing wrong with familiarizing her with the lay of the house.
Nor with familiarizing her with his touch.
He opened the French doors adjacent to his desk and escorted her out onto the graveled path.
“It might be uneven. You should stay close,” he murmured.
“Yes, of course,” she replied, inching nearer to his side.
Her perfume wafted up at him, fresh and feminine, as their feet crunched over the rocks. A full moon sat low in a cloudless sky and bathed the path, and the woman beside him, in silvery light.
A soft breeze whispered through the surrounding foliage, and he felt a small shiver go through her.
Chase untucked her hand from his elbow and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, offering his warmth, and bringing more of her in contact with more of him.
Her body was lithe and supple and too damned inviting. Everything in him wanted to run his hands over every part of her. Every part.
“Not far off now,” he assured her. He had a destination in mind he thought she would like.
She glanced up at him, smiling shyly, and her pale blue-violet eyes shimmered like polished glass in the moonlight.
“I must remember to give my compliments to the gardener. The flower beds are stunning from my chambers. But, seeing the myriad blossoms up close, breathing in themélangeof their fragrances, is another experience entirely.”
Satisfaction and simmering frustration clashed within him. It had been the right decision, bringing her to visit the gardens tonight even if the sight and smell—and now feel—of her threatened to drive him mad.
He wanted her. She was his wife, damn it. He couldn’t decide if that made his thwarted desire better or worse—better, because he knew eventually he’d have her, or worse, because he could have her tonight if not for herconditions.
Everything about Amelia, her searching gemstone eyes, her throaty voice, the sight of her wearing that low cut, figure-hugging gown had him in a fevered state.
He had always had a healthy appetite for the female sex. But never had a woman affected him this way.
It had to be the enforced wait to bed her.Hadto be. He would survive, no matter how long it took for his wife to come to him. He would not be led about by his libido as his father had been.
But perhaps he could help speed the process.
They reached the secluded section of the garden he intended. It boasted a vine-covered trellis, beneath which sat a slatted bench, a small fountain, and copious blossoms.
She made a small sound of delight.
“Would you care to sit?”
She nodded and sat, arranging her skirts as he lowered onto the bench beside her.
If his thigh brushed hers, if his arm went around her shoulders, well, she had not garnered any promise from him to the contrary, and she was his wedded wife.
