Page 4 of The Duke of Kisses
She had a sudden vision of him in clothing that was plastered to his muscular, athletic frame. Muscular? Yes, she could tell from his arm and the way he’d lifted her effortlessly from the ground and assisted her across the stream. Athletic? Evidently, given how quickly he’d made it down the hill after she’d fallen and the fact that he hadn’t lost his balance as she had. Besides all that, she had eyes, and she could see he was broad-shouldered and long-legged.
“Do you often go for walks?” she asked, thinking he must.
“Every day. At least once. Like you, I have an affinity for animals. In my case, it’s birds.”
“Indeed? What are your favorites?”
“It’s very hard to say.” His response was solemn, as if he were deeply considering her question. “I find myself drawn to birds of the marsh—it’s their long legs and long beaks, I think. There’s something very graceful about their composition and demeanor. Avocets are beautiful. As are godwits.”
“I know next to nothing about birds.” But she suddenly wished to correct that and planned to scour West’s library for every book on ornithology she could find.
“I could teach you,” he offered softly.
It was the nicest, sweetest, most alluring offer she’d ever received.
Too bad she couldn’t accept. He was a steward’s apprentice, and she was the sister-in-law of a duke, destined for a grand Season and probably a marriage to a prince. Or at least a duke. That was what she and Ivy joked about, at least.
Ivy! She had to be worried sick.
“How far are we from Stour’s Edge?” Fanny asked.
“About a quarter mile, I should think.” He pointed in front of them. “There. You’d see it if not for the copse of trees and this thickening storm.”
She recognized the copse from earlier and from the walks she’d taken since coming to Stour’s Edge. When they reached the trees, she stopped. “We should part here, I think.”
“You probably don’t want to be seen arriving with me,” he guessed accurately.
“I don’t think that would be wise. I’ve been gone too long as it is.”
“Are you sure you can find your way?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes, I’m quite oriented now. I meant it when I said I don’t usually get lost.”
He glanced up at the sky, blinking. “It really is snowing hard. You should go.”
“I should.”
And yet neither of them moved. They stood there facing each other, arms still clasped, cloaked in white, seemingly alone in the world.
“Pity there isn’t mistletoe,” he said softly.
Oh, he wanted to kiss her!
Good, she wanted him to kiss her too.
She edged closer until they almost touched, chest to chest. “Let’s pretend there is.”
He pitched his head toward hers, and she closed her eyes just before his lips touched hers. They were cold but soft. His arms came around her, and he held her close.
The kiss continued, awakening all her senses and arousing them so that, to her mind, there was just him and her and the snowy quiet enveloping their secret embrace. When his tongue licked along her lips, she opened for him, driven by curiosity and a sweet hunger she’d never experienced.
Once inside, his tongue met hers, and he coaxed her fully, showing her what it meant to really be kissed. She’d always wondered, and now she knew.
It was over far too soon, and the cold that he’d banished from her for a few, brief minutes came rushing back, reminding her that she was cold and damp and needed to get inside.
He brushed his gloved fingertips along her cheek. “I refuse to say good-bye, so I’ll just say, Happy Christmas.”
She refused to say good-bye too, even though she knew it was. “Happy Christmas.”
