Page 73 of Better Love Next Time
Julian cleared his throat. “As I was saying orwriting… I read your letter and pardon my selfishness, but I was relieved.”
Her fingers played at the top button of his coat. “Because I had not forsaken you? Oh, I am so very sorry I refused to see you. It was pigheaded?—”
He pressed his finger over her mouth. “I deserved it. Now let me finish. After reading your letter, I sought out dearest Uncle William convalescing from a night of card play and drink, and do you know, he was completely ignorant of the fact he required a new pianoforte?”
Kitty pushed from his shoulder, too shocked to believe what she heard.
“When he denied his obvious need, being the gentleman I am…” He waved her on.
“Y-You are a gentleman.”
“I offered him a game of piquet to resolve the impasse and…”
“You won,” she whispered.
“I won. Come tomorrow, if Sir Jeffrey accepts my uncle’s offer, he’ll have enough quid to buy ten more guns and hunters. Unfortunately, the pianoforte will have to come to Farendon.”
Kitty bounced to her knees and, straddling his lap, hugged his head and rained kisses over his crown. “I don’t care if it goes to Farendon. I will know it is loved. I will play it. Oh, thank you. Thank you.”
He wrestled from her hold, his eyes shining up at her in the faint light. “Yours in Happy Endings, Julian.”
“You are my knight. Oh, you are.” She kissed his cheek. “You are.” She kissed his eyelashes. “You are.”
“I am a blackhearted scoundrel for challenging a man who could barely recite his own name. But for you, fairy, the end justifies the means.”
“Then you are my blackhearted scoundrel.” Her lips found his and stole a kiss.
His hand landed whisper soft on the curve of her hip. Dark eyes pinpointed on her mouth. They lowered to her breasts just below his chin. The air was taut in the silence, like lightning was near. Her stomach fluttered. The confusing tingling started at her fingertips.
“I need to go,” he said.
“So soon? But you cannot walk home in the rain. You will surely catch ill. Stay here. You must.”
She clapped her hand over her mouth. What was she saying? What was she implying? She looked down where their bodies joined. Her hips to his abdomen. Her robe was open and her ruffled nightshift flowed over him. She eased back to her heels but not really her heels. His lap. It was shocking and, per everything she had been taught or read, sinful.
“Kitty, I cannot stay.”
“Why not?”
“I cannot. Leave it at that.”
“But we are friends.”
He dragged a hand down his face. “I am not your friend at this moment. I am a beast. Men are beasts. You are an innocent, and I am truly a blackhearted scoundrel. More so, if I were to stay. I will return tomorrow night and we can play cards or… something.”
“I don’t want to play cards. I want to kiss you.” She smoothed her palm over his rough jaw and kissed him. “I want you to kiss me.”
He closed his eyes. When his lashes lifted, his eyes sparked with uncertainty and fire. Lacing his fingers at her neck, he drew her closer to look deeply in her eyes.
His mouth covered hers. She opened to him as he teased and probed and shifted inside her. His body tightened all at once, his arms wrapping around her waist, his back coming off the door.
He broke the kiss. “This is messy business.” His brow butted hers. “I have no plans to marry. You, on the other hand, want children. A husband. A home. Save yourself from me.”
His breath was like steamy chocolate on her lips. She plucked a kiss and drank the heady taste of his mouth, his tongue. “I have a question.”
He swallowed, dropping his head to the door as his shoulders rose to fill his lungs. “I’ll answer it if you stop kissing me.”
She pressed to her slippered feet. His hungry eyes traced down the length of her. She blew out the candle and opening the closet door, stepped over him. Full moonlight behind the clouds guided her to the narrow bed, though she could have found it in pitch-black. She drew out a book beneath the mattress and sat on its edge.
