Page 25 of If the Slipper Fits
“More parties, eh?” She sniffed. “I can tell you if I had a choice to live in a castle on a hill, I'd choose the castle every time."
He drew to a sudden halt then fixed her with a stare, an odd gleam in his eyes. “I didn’t say anything about Chissington Hall being a castle.”
Her mind went blank for a moment that stretched like an eternity. Then she formulated a realistic reply—she hoped. “No, but you did mention Derbyshire housed the earldom’s seat. I merely assumed.”
One corner of his mouth quirked upward. He patted her hand still tucked into his elbow. “Of course you did, Mrs. Jones.”
They walked on. The crunch of fallen leaves, and scent of pleasantly sweet, decaying foliage, surrounded them. She closed her eyes and allowed herself, just for a moment, to pretend--that Caden hadn’t become a practical stranger. That she wasn’t on the run. That she hadn’t been forced to do the unthinkable and now suffered the consequences.
A burst of wind ripped through the tunnel of trees producing a wolf-like howl and chilling Anna everywhere Caden’s body heat did not reach. She opened her mouth to insist they start back, only to be forestalled by Caden’s next words.
“Boulsworth Hill, you say. Is that where you met your husband?”
A shiver coursed through her, though whether from the dropping temperature, or the macabre image of her so-called husband as she’d last seen him, she couldn't say. “I-I would prefer we not discuss my late husband.”
He made a tut-tut sound. Drawing to a halt, he gripped her shoulders with gentle pressure and shifted her to face him. “My dear Mrs. Jones. I didn’t balk at your questions.”
“You don’t understand. You can’t. Your world is parties and soirees and deciding between your London address, a country estate or a trip abroad. Mine is…not. Won’t you allow me this moment, walking beside you as if neither of us had a care in the world?"
Genuine concern darkened his sky-blue eyes. “You’re right. I don’t understand. But I want to.”
Her insides thrummed with a an unfamiliar heat. The entirely too-pleasant warmth threatened to steal her good sense, because more than anything, she wanted to tell Caden everything, right here, right now, starting with her mother's illness and finishing with this moment.
She shook her head to clear it. As if in direct opposition, wind and leaves swirled around them, picking up speed in time with the chaos inside her.
Then, abruptly, the wind ceased. Silence and stillness engulfed them. Her tongue darted out to dampen her dry lips.
Caden’s gaze fastened on her mouth, tracking the movement. "Help me understand," he repeated.
“Why?” she whispered, his answer suddenly vital.
He inched his big body closer, bringing them toe-to-toe, and forcing her to tilt her head back to look him in the face rather than stare at his bright white shirt and broad chest. “Because you seem in need of a confident. And because…” Caden swallowed hard and lifted his hands to cup her cheeks.
At some point, he'd removed his gloves, and the feel of his palms on her skin felt unbearably intimate—and utterly divine.
The blue of his eyes reflected the clouds overhead and swirled like a churning sea, stealing her breath. She couldn't speak. Could only shake her head.
His eyelids grew heavy and his gaze dropped with languid grace to her mouth.
God, he was going to kiss her.
The heat in her veins turned scorching, melting her from the inside out. Her lips parted, and though she knew she should, she didn’t, byword or deed, proffer the first protest. She wanted Caden's kiss, like she’d waited for it a lifetime.
Slowly, he lowered his head ’til his mouth hovered over hers. His warm breath fanned over her cheeks and goose flesh erupted over her entire body.
“I’m going to kiss you now. Is that all right?”
She swallowed. Nodded. And then, just in case he’d missed her nod, whispered, “Yes.”
She'd barely uttered the word before his mouth covered hers, his lips exerting the merest pressure, as if savoring her, as if tasting her, one deliciously sweet sip at a time.
She’d imagined a thousand times how a kiss might feel. Her imagination had not come close to reality. An ache of need she’d never known stole through her, turning her bones liquid.
He nipped at her lower lip, and she gasped at the unexpected thrill. The scent of him filled her nostrils. Soap, subtle, woodsy cologne, warm male skin,Caden. She wanted to nestle into him and breath him in, but that would mean breaking off the kiss, and that she absolutely could not do.
“Anna.” One of his hands smoothed up her nape to cradle the crown of her head, tilting her face upward. With a groan, he deepened the kiss.
Her hands found his hard shoulders of their own accord, snaked around his neck to cling to him as she rose onto her tiptoes, silently demanding more.
