Page 15 of A Delicate Deception
“A pox on your virtue. It’smyvirtue, by which I mean my vow of chastity, that I’m concerned with.”
“What kind of vow?” she asked promptly. “Are you in a monastic order?”
“Damn it, Amelia.”
She shook her head as if he had let her down. “You can’t have thought one line would be good enough. Do better.”
He buried his face in his hands. “I swore an oath to my liege lord that I wouldn’t lay a hand on any woman until I had brought back a holy relic.”
“I thought Quakers didn’t swear oaths.”
He looked up at her in outrage. “I’m making up a story!”
She nodded approvingly. “Well done. I expect you to tell me more about your liege lord and the nature of your knightly quest at some other time, but first let’s discuss the specifics of your oath. Are women allowed to touch you or did you swear to prevent them from doing so? If so, that would be a very comprehensive vow. Quite unprecedented.”
“Amelia, are you looking for a loophole in my fictional vow of chastity?”
“Obviously,” she said. “So we’ve established that you are a noble knight, unable to touch any fair lady, but also unsworn to defend your own virtue against any feminine explorations. Is that so?”
He blinked at her, dazed. Her lips were slightly parted, and he could lean in and kiss her. She was all but asking him to do so, or maybe asking for permission to kiss him herself. “That’s right.”
“Are there any restrictions as to how a lady might touch you?”
“A lady might take care that we’re very nearly in public,” he said with an effort at asperity.
“A gentleman might notice that we’re on an isolated hilltop. The sheep will keep our secrets. May I touch you, though?”
“Be my guest,” he managed.
“I’m going to start with your beard.”
“No, you can’t,” he said. “You can only touch over my clothes, otherwise I’m technically touching you and I’d be in defiance of the—” He broke off, realizing what he was saying. “Amelia, you’ve addled my brains.”
“I know,” she said delightedly. “Well, I’ll start with your arms, then.” She stroked her hands down his arms, slowly, as if relishing the solid feel of them under her fingers. He shifted under her touch, muscles bunching and rippling. He was suddenly very glad he had dispensed with his coat today.
“You’re showing off for me,” she said.
“That isn’t against my vow.”
She snorted in amusement. Excellent. She stopped just short of his cuff, then slid her hands back up the length of his arms and onto his shoulders. “Goodness, you’re very large.” She slid her hands down his chest, over the linen of his shirt and the wool of his waistcoat, over the muscles there. He groaned and let out a shaky breath.
He liked her. He liked her nonsense stories even though he was certain he ought to disapprove. He liked that she didn’t make a secret of wanting him and didn’t seem to think that their wanting one another meant they needed to do anything dramatic about it. He couldn’t remember the last time he had enjoyed being in the same space as someone, and it must have been longer still since anyone returned the sentiment.
“Oh. Look at that,” he said, gesturing at the sky. “It’s noon.”
“So it is,” she agreed.
He liked her. He wanted her. She liked and wanted him. It was as easy as that, and was seldom so simple. He cleared his throat, but still when he spoke his words came out hoarse and thick. “Did you know that I get a dispensation from my vow each day at noon? Very brief. Only two or three minutes.”
“Better hurry.”
He took her chin in his hand, feeling how soft and smooth her skin was under his calloused fingers. “A kiss?”
“Clock’s ticking,” she said, and it was little more than a breath. She held herself perfectly still, waiting for him to make the decision.
He leaned in, let his lips brush over hers. He had forgotten how sensitive mouths could be, and was taken by surprise by the sparks of sensation awakened in him. He moved to the side and kissed the corner of her mouth. Her hand came to his jaw at the same time he deepened the kiss, testing the seam between her lips. She made a satisfied little sound that went straight to his groin. Then she pulled back, and for the merest instant he saw her discomposed, he saw what she looked like when she was honest. Eyes unfocused and hungry, lips pink and parted. Then she gathered herself up.
“My mother always said to leave people wanting more. Usually she was referring to when to leave a tea party, but I suppose it applies.”
