Page 45 of An Amiable Foe
Marianne cleared the book off the chair next to hers. He sat, reasoning that it would do no good to sit farther away to maintain a proper distance, only to have to shout to be heard and thereby wake the household. The obvious solution was to sit at an intimate distance and speak in quiet tones. As they settled in next to one another, he was struck by how natural such a thing felt—as though he had always spent quiet evenings at Marianne’s side, discussing the day’s events.
“Have you noticed the new hives at the apiary yet? I asked Mr. Mercy to find me someone who can begin harvesting the honey and looking for ways to sell it.” Perry leaned toward her, his elbow on the armrest.
“What excellent news that Brindale is to have honey again. I’m sure my father would be so pleased. You’ve brought good changes to the castle, Perry.” She lifted her bright blue eyes to him and smiled with approval—the reaction he had been hoping for.
He looked away. She must not see by his fidgeting that his heart had started to tap out a faster rhythm. If she noticed that, she might see the longing in his eyes. And if she responded to his longing with even the least bit of encouragement, he was afraid he might not be able to continue keeping a gentlemanly distance. And honorable intentions were at the forefront of his mind for this impromptu call.
“Well,” he said, dropping his gaze to his feet as the corners of his mouth turned up. When he had mastered the wave of desire that had come over him, he looked up at her. “And you will soon see fresh tiles put on the roof in the northern corner. Honestly, the whole of the roof should be redone and the affected walls replastered, but I must see to the urgent needs of the castle first.”
“I understand. I always felt like I was weighing what was most necessary when I was mistress of the castle. It was not an easy task.” Marianne sighed, and clasped her hands in her lap. “I cannot claim to be happy with my uncle’s decision, but the cottage is far easier to manage than the castle was.”
The fire popped, setting Perry’s pulse racing. At first, he feared it was a gunshot. Marianne also jerked at the sound, sending her teacup crashing to the floor.
She shot to her feet before bending to pick up the broken pieces. “How clumsy of me.” Perry bent down at her side to help her retrieve the broken porcelain, his head nearly touching that of Marianne’s.
“Ouch.” Marianne pulled her hand away and stared at her finger, which now had a thin cut that was starting to bead with drops of blood.
“Here, give me those,” Perry said. He took the broken porcelain from her hand and set it gently on the table. Then he helped her to rise, cradling her hand in his to examine the cut. Pulling his handkerchief out of his pocket, he wrapped it around her finger, then gave her the excess cloth to hold. They were facing each other and standing closer than they’d ever been. It was suddenly hard to pull away.
His breath became a little unsteady when he looked into her eyes and found her gazing back. Her lips parted, and she did not pull her hands away from him.
They stilled, neither moving, as the room grew warm and a mild buzzing in Perry’s ears blocked out all sounds. He should leave. It was folly to remain here. What had prompted him to enter her sitting room at midnight? He tried to hold on to the threads of proper decorum, but then she drew a breath, lifting her collarbones, and she swayed into him. His rationale for leaving fled, and he cleared his voice to make sure he could still speak.
“All day, I couldn’t help but wonder—” He lifted his hand that was not holding on to hers and twirled the piece of hair in his finger that had fallen next to her cheek. “I cannot help but wonder, Marianne, if you would welcomemykisses.”
She leaned even closer, her eyes closing as his fingers moved to her face. Her cheek was of a softness he had never known, and he didn’t think he could pull away if he tried.
“I would.” It came out as no more than a whisper.
Needing no further encouragement, Perry bent his head down, the difference in their height helped by the way she lifted up on tiptoe and tilted her face to his. He pulled his other hand away and framed her face with both hands, touching his lips to hers. Her lips were heavenly soft, and they parted at his touch.
His heart beat so loudly he could hear nothing but the roaring in his ears. At first, he was conscious only of the sensation that came from their kiss. Then, Marianne placed her hands timidly on his arms. And just when the longing grew to feel her arms around his waist, she leaned into him more fully.
Every thought fled in the wake of sensations that had long lain dormant. Perry lost all reason, all control. With a sound deep in his throat, he slid his hands from her face and put them around her back and pulled her to him, cutting all distance between them.
Upstairs, the sound of a door opening shattered the thick fog around his consciousness, and Perry pulled away, breathing hard. He looked at Marianne, alarmed—the delightful sensations from a moment ago turning into the sinking feeling of having behaved without honor toward a woman who deserved so much more.
Her eyes opened slowly, and she blinked. She didn’t seem to realize the precarious situation he had put her in—she merely looked dazed.
“Marianne, I must go.”
She blinked again as though to clear her head and licked her lips, causing a pang to cut right through him. “I should not be here. This was most foolish of me. I beg you will forgive me.”
Her smile was as soft as her words. “There is nothing to forgive, Perry.”
She was more gracious than he had deserved. He seized her hand, knowing he must flee before someone appeared, although he had not heard anyone descend the stairs. “You must trust me. I will not dishonor you again.”
Perry bent down and kissed her hand, then climbed back over the window. “Fasten the shutters securely,” he ordered. She nodded, and he dropped to the ground, heading toward the castle as the sounds of closing windows and shutters behind him reached his ears.
As he walked back, the cool night air further brought him to his senses—of which he had completely taken leave the moment he asked to enter her drawing room.
His boots crunched on the path and the occasional twig, as his heart both relived the delicious feel of her lips and the horror of what might have happened had the kiss not been interrupted. He most certainly must never do such a thing again—he could not. He would make sure of it.
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
When Marianne had finished closing the shutters and windows, she went over to the broken porcelain and picked up a remaining piece from the floor and set it next to the others. Then she sat and brought her hand, still wrapped in Perry’s handkerchief, to her cheek.
The door opened and Sarah stepped in. “Miss, yer still awake. Oh, that’s what I heard, annit? Ye’ve dropped your cup.”
