Page 51 of Beyond Scandal and Desire
That thought he shoved back into the corner of his mind where it couldn’t prick his conscience. She deserved far better than what he was going to eventually offer.
“What is the fragrance you wear?” he asked. It would linger in his carriage, always reminding him that she’d once been a passenger, had sat mere inches from him. It would mock him, reminding him he hadn’t crossed over and taken her in his arms, captured her mouth in order to ensure her passionate noises also resided within the confines of the vehicle.
“Gardenia. It was my mother’s favorite. When I first apply it, I’m always swamped with memories of her hugging me before she would go to a ball.”
“You have a lot of memories of your parents.” He wasn’t certain if it was a statement or a question.
“Not so very many actually. Most revolve around my mother. My father was rather intimidating. So tall that I’d get a pain in my neck looking up at him. He seemed a giant at the time. In truth, I doubt he was even as tall as you. Our perspective changes as we grow older, grow taller. I would have liked to have had the opportunity to become less wary of him.”
He had no memories of the woman who’d given birth to him, didn’t even know what she looked like. As for his father, his height wasn’t going to intimidate him.
“What of your mother, what does she smell like?” she asked.
He’d never given it much thought. “Bread, fresh from the oven, vanilla, recently brewed tea.”
“She sounds warm and homey.”
“She’s always quick with a hug, was equally quick with a slap if we didn’t behave.”
“I suspect she fairly bruised her hand with you about.”
He grinned. “Even when I grew tall enough to tower over her, she was never daunted. Earlier you spoke fondly of your guardians. What sort of punishment would they mete out?”
“I never exhibited any behavior that required punishment. I was always quick to obey, wanting to please. Although if I’m honest, they are rather overprotective. Do you know, before tonight, I had never walked out of the residence unaccompanied? And I certainly never traveled in a carriage with a gentleman I barely know. I’m probably being exceedingly careless to do so now, yet I feel remarkably safe. I don’t believe you’d take advantage.”
“You are rather foolish to believe that.”
“No. If you were going to do something untoward, you’d have done it in your office, your lair where you rule.”
“You don’t consider the kiss overstepping the bounds?”
“Of course I do. It shouldn’t have happened.” She glanced out the window, presenting him with her profile, limned by the occasional streetlamp. Odd, how even with the shadows, he could discern the upward slant of her nose. He should have kissed it while he had the chance. He’d certainly do so the next time an occasion presented itself. Her nose, her brow, her cheeks, the top of her head. Damnation, he was reacting like a besotted schoolboy, wanting to kiss every quarter inch of her.
She turned her attention back to him. “As I mentioned, I’ve been protected. Sometimes I feel as though I will suffocate. I was curious as to whether all kisses were the same, so I welcomed the opportunity to discover the truth of it.”
“Are they . . . all the same?” For him it was a rhetorical question. He knew the answer, but he was curious as to whether she’d admit to or accept the reality of it.
She looked back out the window. “No, they’re not.”
She sounded somewhat disappointed, which should have pleased him. It didn’t. He didn’t like the notion of her being disenchanted with anything, even as he knew a time would come when he’d disappoint her most of all. The irritating besotted fool who apparently was considering taking up residence within him wanted to ask if she preferred his kiss. Based on the way she’d run, he might have thought she didn’t, but he also contemplated the alternative: that she enjoyed it far too much. A lady betrothed to another man might feel a need to run from the realization she’d chosen poorly.
“Kip and I have an understanding,” she said softly, as though reading his thoughts. “Although at the moment it’s on shaky ground.”
Her words pleased him far too much, made him want to cross over the narrow expanse separating them and kiss her—hard, thoroughly, to distraction. He didn’t push her, didn’t question her further because he didn’t want to expose his hand, to make her suspicious, to think he had too much interest in her relationship with the earl.
“The rain has stopped,” she said quietly.
“So it has.”
They settled into silence. He was surprised by how much he enjoyed merely being in her company, inhaling her fragrance—he might have Tittlefitz fetch him some gardenias for the offices, for the lobby. He wouldn’t mind being greeted by her scent when he strode into the hotel.
He didn’t spend a great deal of time in the presence of others, unless it was required for business or a family obligation. He preferred keeping his own counsel, his own company. He’d never been one for light, trivial banter. But with her, even the most trivial seemed important. He liked learning things about her. Not because he could use them to manipulate her, but because every aspect of her fascinated him.
The carriage came to a halt. He opened the door, leaped out and reached back for her, taking incredible pleasure from her placing her hand in his without hesitation. He wished they wore no gloves, no clothes at all for that matter.
“Very wise to have your driver park on the street,” she said.
“Our arrival will be less conspicuous, especially if someone is wandering about the hallways.”
