Page 23 of Tall, Dark & Wicked
After several tense minutes, Petra closed the distance between them, shifting until their knees were mere inches from each other. Carefully, without letting go of her hand, Brendan wrapped his free arm around her waist, pulling her gently toward him. He held Petra much closer than he should have, though she didn’t protest. She was looking up at him, the color of the leaves around them bringing out the green in her eyes. Her gaze was focused on his mouth.
Christ. Absolutely not a shred of self-preservation.
The delicate palms of her hands reached out to flatten against his chest. “How are we getting down?”
Could she feel the hammering of his heart against her palms? He inhaled her scent, wanting to bury his nose against her shoulder. “Very slowly.” His words were rougher than he’d intended. “I will inch down and then you will follow.”
“No. I—”
“Petra, listen to me. You are not to look down, keep your eyes focused on the bark of the tree before you. I will not let you fall. I promise. If anything, you’ll land on my head.” A vision of Petra’s stocking-clad legs hiked over his shoulders as he—Christ.
“Trust me.” The words choked out as he struggled to control his breathing.
“Right.” She lifted her chin with determination. “I’m ready.”
Disengaging her fingers with care, Brendan turned and crawled to the trunk and secured a foothold in the bark. Motioning with his hand, he beckoned Petra to move toward him.
She took a deep breath, as if preparing herself and then cautiously made her way to him, her fingers notched into the bark of the tree. She was poised above Brendan but still too far away. He moved up a few inches.
“Don’t you dare look up my skirts.”
“Petra, I’m much more concerned with getting you down safely then I am with your undergarments.” It was only a small lie. His interest in her undergarments was limited to imagining taking them off of her.
Brendan moved up the trunk until Petra was between him and the tree. He tried to focus on getting her down safely, but if she so much as twitched, her rounded buttocks brushed against a certain part of his anatomy. Having her so close was pure torture, with her body so close and her scent filling the air. He had to restrain himself from nipping at her ear. “Now we move down together. My left foot moves down and so does yours.”
“Yes,” she said. “You don’t have to sound so irritated with me.”
Brendan wasincrediblyirritated—at her,because of her.He needed to control his craving for this slim young woman who smelled of roses and sugar cookies and he couldn’t seem to.
Fifteen minutes later, his boots landed on the ground.
Petra still hung onto the bark for dear life. “Where are you going?” She didn’t take her eyes from the tree trunk.”
“Relax, Petra. We’ve made it down.” Brendan’s hands wrapped around her waist and lowered her the rest of the way until her feet brushed against the leaves covering the ground.
Petra closed her eyes in relief as her feet made contact with the forest floor. Then she smiled brilliantly, her eyes opening with reverence at the oak before them.
“I shall never forget this day.” She looked over her shoulder at him.
Brendan doubted he would either.
* * *
Elation filledPetra as she looked up at the oak tree. For the first time in a very long time, she’d done somethingshewished. Not apropersomething. Or apolitesomething. And Morwick had her neatly trapped against the trunk of the oak.
He seemed in no hurry to release her.
Morwick smelled so good, like the moors around them. His larger body, strong and vital, hovered over Petra, the breadth of his shoulders blocking the sun filtering through the trees. She felt safe and protected within the circle of Morwick’s arms. He’d been so gentle with her, both today and when she’d become so horribly ill all over his boots. Few gentlemen on such a short, antagonistic relationship as she and Morwick had, would have done the same.
Had. Petra reminded herself. What she felt now was the furthest thing from dislike.
Acting on impulse, Petra stood on her tiptoes, the rough scrape of his unshaven jaw chafing her lips as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, my lord,” she whispered against the tanned skin, holding herself up for a moment, before standing down. It was an incredibly brazen thing to do.
Morwick’s body vibrated like a tuning fork at her touch, tightening sinuously, like a large snake stretching itself. His gaze burned into her, the sapphire orbs flaming, like the embers of a fire stoked to flame. No other man had ever looked at Petra the way Morwick did, and certainly not with such wicked intent gleaming in his eyes. He was going to kiss her, knew he shouldn’t, and didn’t much care.
Petra didn’t blush or stammer, nor turn away from the look in those blazing eyes. A truly demure young woman would make a polite excuse and escape to the safety of her chaperone. Or perhaps run all the way back to Somerton as if the devil were at her heels. But Petra had no such inclination. A part of her had been locked away, lying dormant until Morwick stormed into her life, like a whirlwind, to overwhelm her.
Simon didn’t once enter her thoughts as Morwick’s lips brushed gently against hers. He was tentative at first, as if making sure Petra wouldn’t scream and run away.
