"I doubt it."
"No." She wouldn't give in.
He tugged at her hands. "Look at me. Why do you tell yourself to 'sing in the dark'?"
"You intrude."
"I do. I know I do. But I care for you, Fee. I will intrude because to sing in the dark is what one does when all else in the world offers no sights, no sounds, no pleasures save those you can count on from yourself."
She sucked in air that he could typify her feelings so well.
He slid closer, his body's warmth the soft caress of one human to another. "If you must tell yourself to 'live like no one need approve', then that is bravery in its rawest form."
"Or justification for any act."
"Not to you, my darling, Fee." He slipped his fingers into her hair, the powerful claim of his hands on her head a stroke of pure pleasure. No one had ever touched her head and given her such relief from her hard realities. "For you, it was another statement of your courage. If no one need approve of you but you, then your soul's journey must be complete."
She sighed and he gathered her against him. "The only task remaining is to find another who dances with abandon and sings in the dark with you."
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and allowed herself the heady sensations of his presence.
He lifted her chin. "I adore you, Lady Fiona Chastain. Your quiet demeanor. Your love of your friends. Your mad expertise at cards."
"You don't think me ready for Bedlam?"
"Perhaps," he said and she snorted. "Even if you did qualify, you mustn't go."
"No? Why not?" He was teasing her.
"I cannot visit you there."
She scoffed. "You'd wish to?"
He went quite still, his gaze upon her mouth. "I'd have to move in with you."
She laughed with gusto.
"Otherwise, how could I kiss you?"
"You could do that now," she said with breathless ease, her heart pounding in anticipation.
"Might I?" he asked, ever the gentleman.
"With abandon." She cupped his nape and drew him down with her to the bed. "Like this," she murmured as she gave into the desperate need to brush her lips on his.
And oh, his mouth was heaven on earth. Soft, deliciously firm. His tongue darted out to play with hers. The dance was one she'd never enjoyed with any man. But he was determined, devoted.
"Darling Fee," he groaned and captured the back of her neck to hold her to him. "You taste divine." He nipped her and licked her. Then he crushed her to him and kissed her lips as if he'd never done it before with any woman.
His hands were on her breasts, shaping and stroking, sliding down her torso to her hips. He grasped her thigh and lifted it so that he sank between her legs. There against her core, she felt the hard evidence of what this morning had earned her.
A man. Hers. All hers. Ready and primed to claim her. More than that, a man who understood her.
He rained kisses down her cheeks and jaw, down her throat and across the bodice of her gown. "I love the blue," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "I want to love what lies beneath it more."
She cupped his cheeks, his words an aphrodisiac to her troubled day and her disastrous lonely life. She gave him kisses, a thousand.
And he stopped her, a hand to her cheek. "My darling Fee, stop."
