Page 37 of The Viscount and the Vicar's Daughter
He released her hands, knowing it was not well done of him to have taken them in his or held them for so long.
But they felt soft.
They felt so right swallowed in his.
She darted into the kitchen, no doubt to hide the dark pink stains on her cheeks. She’d felt the attraction between them and had no idea what to do about it. Likely, she wanted to suppress it, deny it. Pretend it was all a mistake.
It wasn’t.
What each of them felt for the other was real and perhaps dangerous. Their physical attraction to each other was certainly something to be concerned about.
What would happen if they acted upon their feelings?
She returned to the dining room in short order bearing a basket in hand. “I’ll retrieve my baking tin and basket when I come up to Ardley Hall tomorrow. Um, that is…should I come up?”
“Yes, I’ve told you so. We are to taste your fish.”
She nodded.
“Viola, you are chewing your lip again.”
She looked up at him with anguished eyes. “It is all very confusing. I think you should not keep your father waiting.”
“Very well, I’ll go.” He took the basket from her hands. “But first…close your eyes.”
Instead, they widened.
He smiled affectionately. “Do not be afraid of me, Viola. Close your eyes.”
She sighed and sealed them shut tight, at the same time holding her breath.
He leaned forward and kissed her softly on the cheek. “Job well done, Miss Ruskin.”
His voice sounded strained and husky to his own ears. Not surprising, for he was fighting off a tidal wave of sensations, mostly the urge to kiss her lusciously pursed lips.
He dared not.
She had him on fire.
A kiss on the cheek was safest for now.
Lord, she tasted sweet.
“Until tomorrow, Miss Ruskin.”
She opened her eyes and watched him stride out.
He almost turned back to give her the ravenous kiss he ached to give her. But now was not the time. First of all, it was too soon. These feelings he had for her were too new and how could he be certain of them? Second of all, sharing a real kiss between them would overset her, and she was already unsteady because of her father’s illness.
But he would kiss her.
Not today, for having to face his angry father was enough to douse anyone’s ardor.
As expected, his father was pacing in his study when he returned. “Where have you been, Alexander? Your Mr. Wilson would not tell me. I ought to sack him for his impertinence.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You’ll do no such thing, Father. If you must know, I was fetching your supper.”
“Do not be smart with me.”
