Page 23 of Never a Duke
He framed Rosalind’s face in his bare hands and paused, long enough for her to thinkWhat is he about?
“This is not an impulse, Rosalind. This is something I have considered at great length.” He pressed his lips to hers, as softly as sunshine and as sweetly as joy. Rosalind sighed against his mouth and wrapped her arms around his lean waist.
Yes. Yes, yes, yes.
She had done very little kissing, but she had enough experience to sense that Ned was patient in this too, giving her time to settle into the moment. He tasted of citrus and his scent up close was honeysuckle and mown grass beneath that hint of cedar. The kissing was lovely, but even better was the pleasure of Ned Wentworth’s embrace.
He knew how to hold a woman so she was enveloped in his strength without being overpowered. He was a sheltering edifice and masculine temptation all rolled into one, and Rosalind wanted to burrow into his heat and find all the mischief he yet commanded.
“Not here,” he said, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead against hers. “Not now. I value my dignity too, Rosalind.”
Rosalind remained in his arms, feeling as if she’d run a hard race and beaten all comers. That she could imperil Ned Wentworth’s self-possession was a delicious thought. She allowed herself the space of a half dozen slow, deep breaths to linger in his embrace.
“Not here, and not now,” she said, stepping back. “What did you mean?”
He let her go. “What I should have said was,not me, but you are kissable too, Lady Rosalind. Forgive me a momentary lapse, please?” His smile was all pleasantry and politesse, while Rosalind was still awash in wonder.
“A momentary lapse, Mr. Wentworth?”But you said…
“A very pleasant momentary lapse. I will look forward to our outing on Monday evening.”
He did not sound as if he was looking forward to anything. He sounded all dutiful and friendly-distant, which was probably a demeanor unique to bankers.
Men in general confounded Rosalind, but she had a firm grasp of logic. Ned Wentworth had said his kiss wasnotthe result of impulse, and now, two minutes later, he was calling it amomentary lapse. Those two descriptors were inconsistent, especially from a man who was neither flighty nor irrational.
A man who was eyeing the street as if calculating how quickly he could vault onto the bench and spring his horses.
“You need not fear that I’ll descend into hysterics,” Rosalind said. “I have been kissed before, Mr. Wentworth. The experience, while pleasurable, signifies nothing.”
He pulled on his gloves. “Precisely. Pleasurable and insignificant. I do apologize for overstepping.”
“I kissed you first.”
He peered at her. “So you did, in a manner of speaking. Well, I must be off.”
“To the bank.” Rosalind waved a hand. “Duty calls.”
He was on the bench in the next instant, reins in hand. “Until Monday, my lady.”
“Your handkerchief,” Rosalind said, extracting his linen from her pocket. “You must not lose so lovely an article. The embroidery is exquisite.”
He looked pained. “Please don’t trouble yourself. I want you to have it.”
His hands being full of the reins, Rosalind tucked the handkerchief into his coat pocket. “Just tell me who did the needlework, and I will give her my custom as well.”
The pained expression became one Rosalind herself had learned to cultivate, carefully blank, not quite bored.
“I did the embroidery myself,” Mr. Wentworth said. “I will see you Monday evening, my lady.” He clucked to the horses and they walked on toward the street.
Rosalind remained under the porte cochere, sorting theories and hunches. Mr. Wentworth had contemplated kissing her, and made a proper job of it, then regretted his actions.
Why? The first possibility was that she’d disappointed him so badly that he was mortified to have indulged his fancies.
Butnot here, andnot now, had been joined bynot me. That suggested a second possibility: Ned Wentworth had found kissing her delightful, more than a passing pleasure, and he wasdisconcertedthat it should be so because she hadexceededhis expectations.
Interesting theory, and one Rosalind would test at the first opportunity.
Chapter Five
