Page 49 of The Dravenhearst Brides
She thought again of him sneaking out at night and looked away, feeling foolish. For a moment, she’d almost forgotten. And that made her terribly foolish indeed.
This man was dangerous. In more ways than one.
“Never mind.” She shook her head, precluding his answer. “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”
“Maybe I want to.”
When she turned, he was looking straight at her, his amber eyes so focused, they burned. Blazing. Hot as fire.
She waited, trying to remember to breathe.
“Can we just…can we try something for a second?” He turned to face her, swinging one leg over the bench to straddle it. “Margot?”
“Yes?”
And slowly, so slowly, he moved his hand up her arm, over her shoulder, brushing her hair back from her neck.
“Can we try something quick?” he asked again, whispering now.
His hand wound its way fully into her hair. The other held her cheek. He was so close, she could see every eyelash. Every dimple. He waited.
“Yes.” She gave permission.
Barely a breath later, his lips closed over hers.
It was strange at first, the feeling. Margot was self-conscious, paralyzed with the terrible fear of messing up. She stiffened, too wrapped up in her own mind to let him in.
Merrick pulled back, his eyes uncertain.
Now you’ve done it.A nasty voice spoke in her head.You’ve gone and ruined it. Your one shot and look what you did with it.
But he was still there, barely an inch away. Waiting for her.
She knew this was important. She shook her head, trying to shake off the fear. “I can do better,” she murmured. This time, she leaned in. This time, she was the one to press her lips to his. She didn’t think, didn’t fight. She onlyfelt. Moving her lips to fit his, feeling the rhythm. Leaning into it. The softness. His surety.
It feltgood. Wonderfully good.
She wondered if he felt it too?
He gave her his answer by deepening the kiss, sliding both hands to her cheeks, dragging them through her hair. A quiet rumble of pleasure vibrated through his chest. She reached for his shoulders, grabbing on for dear life. As if he was the only solid thing in the world, the garden swirling and tilting around her. Disorienting.
If this be madness, then let it devour me.
When he finally pulled back, she was breathless and lightheaded. The way she usually felt just before she fainted.
The world kept turning, blurs of color in her periphery, but Merrick stayed still. And there were his amber eyes, pinning her down, centering her in his gravitational pull.
In that moment, all Margot knew was the somersaulting sensation soaring through her stomach felt like a heck of a lot more thanfondness.
16
July 11, 1933
My dearest Margaret,
Wellness is a generality these days, but you may assume your letters always find me so, made better simply by tracing the ink of your words over a page. I feel your hesitancy through that ink, daughter. You say the house is lovely—I confess relief at your words. There were rumors, many years ago, but you and I know a thing or two about gossip. Often malicious, rarely true.
Perhaps you and your new husband have more in common than you think.
