Page 61 of The English Duke
She swallowed with difficulty, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, they were trapped in her throat.
What could she possibly say?
He was suddenly closer. She raised one hand and encountered his shirt. In the past few hours he’d taken off his jacket, appearing as he had in the boathouse.
She was trembling. Could he feel it?
He took another step. His shoe edged hers, a curious mating.
He bent his head, his breath on her forehead.
“A dream,” he muttered. “A fevered wish granted.”
She didn’t understand, but she thought he might be intoxicated.
Her heart felt as if it was skipping beats. She was breathless as if she’d been running in the past few minutes instead of hiding in his room.
Her hand moved, the fingers splaying. She closed her eyes, the better to sense him. Although she had sketched out her father’s plans, she had no talent at drawing. For the first time, she wished she could take charcoal and paper and draw him as she felt him.
No doubt it was the influence of the mural of Rome, but she saw him as a gladiator, naked but for strips of leather, his eyes deadly intent. This man would fight for his life, would combat anything or anyone set against him.
He frightened her at the same time he excited something in her, a wish, a desire, a need to be someone different. Daring Martha. Beautiful Martha. Martha, who incited a man’s yearning.
His breath was on her cheek now and she knew she should step away. Instead, she held herself still.
“Shall I kiss you, creature of my dreams?”
She should tell him who she was. She should inform him that she was the plain Martha with whom he had worked this afternoon. The same woman who’d been half in love with him before she ever met him.
His breath was on her lips now.
Josephine would have taken advantage of the moment. Josephine would have reached up, put her arms around his neck and opened her mouth to his kiss.
She wasn’t Josephine.
But she did the same, standing on tiptoe, stretching both hands up to link behind his neck, waiting. Her first kiss and she desperately wanted it to be with him.
Suddenly, his mouth was on hers and she gasped in wonder. Every part of her body felt as if it was tingling, from her toes to the warmth inside her.
His lips tasted of wine, but that was only the first surprise.
No one had ever hinted about a kiss. Nor had anything she ever read explained it would harness your breath and send your heart catapulting. Your mind would be emptied of all thoughts until it felt as if light spread through you. Your body became a stained-glass window, vibrant colors appearing behind your closed lids.
Her hands tightened behind his neck as she began to tremble. His arms went around her, linking at her back, pulling her even tighter to him.
Could he feel her breasts?
She wanted him to touch her, which was only one of the shocking thoughts she had in the next few minutes. He didn’t release her and she didn’t struggle against him.
When he finally broke the kiss, they were both breathing hard.
“You feel real,” he said, his voice different. Lower, perhaps, or slower, as if the words had been carefully considered and deliberately spoken.
She was shocking herself, but she didn’t want to leave. Not yet. Give her a moment or two more of this bliss, please, enough to last her for a lifetime of memories.
“You can’t be real.”
Oh, but she was. More to the point, so was he. So real, so warm, and so close.
