Page 95 of Not Exactly Mr. Darcy
She watched Liam, and he watched her, until finally Patricia had exited too.
What did he want to say? What should she say? Oh, she wished for a do-over, a chance to explain that she’d let her fears get the better of her. Or at least a drink to line her dry mouth.
She took a sip of water, then knocked the bottle over. “Oh no.”
Quick as a flash, he was up and handing her his fleecy pullover. “Mop it up with that.”
She didn’t like to use his clothing, but she obeyed.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, gesturing to his damp pullover. Then gestured to the photo. “I’m sorry for … all of that.”
“So you said.”
“No. I mean, I’m sorry I wasn’t clearer about what I meant that day. About kissing you.”
“Yeah, I understood what you meant.”
Judging from the shadowed look in his face, “I really don’t think you do.”
It was time to be brave. Honest. Real. She got up and moved to where he’d remained standing, getting into his personal space, hearing his hitch of breath as she did. “Because this is what I meant.”
She lifted her hand to his bristly cheek, caught his wide eyes of surprise, and then tugged his head down, bumping his nose as she kissed him. He froze for a second, and doubt made her second-guess. Then he quickly wrapped her in his arms, holding her close, his lips pressed firm against hers.
If that kiss by the fountain had gone viral, then this kiss deserved its own epidemic. Kissing him was like finding the stars had met the earth, causing sensation she’d never known to ripple over her, through her, around her. Like she was spinning around stars in a universe she’d never seen before.
By the time she needed oxygen, he’d pulled away, his breath shaky. “So you do like me, a little bit at least.”
“A little bit, maybe.”
His mouth curved. “Then that apology in the garden?”
“I didn’t mean to kiss you in public.”
His left eyebrow hooked. “You wanted to kiss me in private?”
She laughed and tapped his chest. “Let’s just remember who first started kissing who out there in the garden.”
“Fine. I’ll confess that was me. But I couldn’t help it. You kept looking at me with ‘come-hither’ eyes, and I had no choice but to obey.”
“Come-hither eyes?”
He nodded. “Come hither. Please.”
She accepted his invitation, drew close, and kissed him.
Then accepted his invitation to dinner that night, and kissed him again after the meal, when they were cosy in the library, with the fire flickering, the flames cresting red and orange and hints of blue. He had his arm around her on the leather sofa, and after all the busyness, all the stress and uncertainty, to just have this moment to stop and relax and for once feel like all was right with the world was an unseen pleasure.
“This is nice.” She stretched out, toeing off her boots to place her socked feet next to his on the multicoloured circus flag-stitched ottoman.
“Very nice.” He hugged her nearer. “I’m sorry for not talking to you sooner.”
“About?”
“About us.”
Us.Her heart lifted. It still seemed so impossibly wonderful. “George said you saw her in London and you had another trustees’ meeting.”
“I did.” He sighed. “Someone sent them a picture of us, and Lord Atwood was not pleased.”
