Page 43 of Almost a Bride
“Thornton,” she repeated.
A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth, and he leaned his weight on one elbow, freeing his hand. Her eyes widened, her mouth went dry as she held her breath, waiting for whatever he would do.
The back of his fingers slid gently down her cheek, and she felt the prick of tears in her eyes.
“What—what are you doing?” she whispered, and her voice sounded as light as the clouds in the sky.
“Hush, Rose,” he murmured as his breath touched her face, “be still.”
She was caught in the spell of a gentleness she’d never known. She hadn’t imagined a man’s skin could feel so soft as he traced her cheek again, then around her chin. His touch brought her to life like a blossom spreading open with the sunrise. Her chest tightened painfully to feel so much, to take chances she swore she’d never take again.
She looked at his mouth then. She wondered what it would be like to be kissed by a man—something she’d longed for as a silly, headstrong girl, and as a sober, married woman.
But she’d never known. It had been Philip’s punishment to deny her the most basic affection between husband and wife.
Were Thornton’s lips as soft as hers? Would his mouth be as tender as his fingers—or hard and dangerous? Just the thought of it sent another uncontrollable shiver racing down to her toes.
But he didn’t kiss her, though his fingers stroked her throat so slowly she wanted to scream with the unbearable tension. They lingered in the hollow between her collarbones, then dipped just beneath the neckline of her gown. Once again, she felt the hard ridge of his erection.
Roselyn swallowed a gasp, and her scattered mind finally directed her speech. “You must do this often—I mean this must seem so familiar to you.”
He’d been contemplating her garments—or so she told herself—but now he looked up into her face.
“What?”
“From the rumors that spread from London—”
“London?”
His puzzled frown at least let her know that he’d been as distracted as she was.
“Was there somewhere else you did the majority of your carousing?”
His eyes narrowed. “My carousing?” He suddenly lifted himself off her and rolled onto his back.
She told herself to be thankful that she had escaped from some dark knowledge about herself that didn’t bear contemplation. Yet lying in the prickly grass, looking up at the wide sky, she felt vulnerable and unprotected without his body above her.
“I know how you love a good scandal,” she said, thankful that her voice grew stronger.
She glanced at Thornton. His mouth was a hard slash through his short beard, and his eyes were narrowed.
“I’m good at scandal,” he said softly. “So why don’t you tell me the one you’ve been dying to share all day?”
“I just…heard things.”
“From Heywood.”
“Yes.”
With a “hmph,” he closed his eyes. “I’m waiting.”
Roselyn felt ridiculous lying out in the open at his side. But she was glad of this chance to understand the man she’d almost married. “This scandal took place at one of the parties you attended, but I guess you must have begun it long before.”
He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Scandal and riddles?”
“How can you not remember? There was fighting and screams, and then they—they pulled at each other’s hair!”
“Who?” he asked, lifting his head to look at her.
