Page 97 of To Wed an Heiress
Mercy didn’t seem to care that her skirt occasionally dragged on the forest floor, picking up pinecones and feathery leaves. She’d brush them off from time to time but never fuss. Nor did she seem to mind that a bit of fluff that looked suspiciously like something from a squirrel’s tail floated down from the upper branches.
“Stay there,” he said, reaching out to pluck it from her hair.
“What is it?”
“A present from a tree,” he said, holding it out for her inspection.
Her smile was a gift, one that warmed him.
For a moment they didn’t speak. Her smile faded and his did as well. Tenderness washed over him, a feeling he’d rarely experienced. He wanted her, but he also wanted to protect her. Not only from woodland creatures, but from all the things that might harm her or hurt her. Or from the people who might wound her.
He wanted to create a home for her at Duddingston. He wanted to share this day and all his days with her, talk with her about things that mattered to him, and laugh with her. His life had been empty and he wanted it filled with Mercy.
All these thoughts cascaded through his mind as they looked at each other.
Her hands were warm, capable of burning through the linen shirt he wore.
He should have stepped back, away. He should have cautioned her with a look. Or told her that he was too susceptible to her touch. For the past week he’d kept his desire reined in, but now it was slipping free of its tether.
A foray through the woods had seemed an innocent occupation. More fool he.
She leaned toward him. He stayed where he was, waiting for his honor to reassert itself.
“Lennox,” she said, his name a benediction on her lips.
He really shouldn’t be around her as much as he was. He always wanted to touch her. To put his hand on her waist or cup her shoulder, lean close to smell the scent she wore, warmed by her skin.
A kiss would make everything worse.
Yet he was only human. His honor faded beneath his greater need. Slowly, he bent down, giving her the opportunity to move away and his better nature time to reassert itself.
His lips met hers. Pleasure lanced through him. His arms went around her, pulling her closer until their bodies were touching. He could feel her breasts despite the layers of clothing between them. His memory furnished the shape and feel of them cupped in his palms.
Her sigh was an aphrodisiac, a sound he’d forever remember.
His hands moved to her waist, then stole around to her back.
A bird flying close penetrated the fog of desire that surrounded him. He pulled back, ending the kiss but not the embrace. He didn’t want to let Mercy go.
“Forgive me,” he said a moment later, reluctantly dropping his hands. This was practice for a moment that was inexorably coming. One day, soon, her father would send word from Macrory House and he’d have no choice but to deliver her there, a last ride in his carriage, a short journey that would feel only seconds long.
There was nothing he could do to delay that moment. It was, like death, inevitable and on the horizon.
Mercy looked up at him, her hands still on his chest.
“Why haven’t you come to my room?”
He gave a little laugh. “I’ve been trying to be honorable. You’re a guest at Duddingston.”
She nodded and only then did she move away.
“You’ve been very generous, Lennox. Thank you for your hospitality. You’ve been very proper.” She smiled, and the expression looked more rueful than amused. “To my chagrin,” she added, “we’ve always had a chaperone.”
She walked a few feet away, then turned back to him. “These are my last days of freedom, Lennox.”
He wasn’t going to respond to that comment.
Instead, he forced a smile to his face, a more difficult task than it should have been. “I’ve been thinking of naming my airship Dragon in honor of you.”
