“Thank you,” he said in relief. The torture had not been in vain. “Boorish scoundrels deserve retribution for stealing an unwilling kiss from a lady.”
“I was willing,” Virginia said. “I slapped you for stopping before it got better.”
“Good God, woman.” Theo staggered backward before he gave into temptation and did exactly that.
He absolutely, positively could not allow himself to touch her and mean it. Could he?
He was not yet spoken for. Nor was she. He was willing. So was she. They were alone. No one would ever know. He cast his eyes toward heaven. “Lord, please give me a sign.”
“What?” Virginia stepped forward.
Theo backed away, lest he lose the last thread of control… and crashed directly into one of the many statues on pedestals. Something sharp pierced him as the figure wobbled off its base.
He tried to intercept it without dropping his crutches.
Virginia dashed forward and caught the statute before it could tumble to the floor. She placed the figure back on its pedestal and arranged it to face them.
Cupid.
Of course.
“You have got to be bamming me,” he muttered.
“What?”
He’d asked for a sign, hadn’t he? The Romans had answered. “Do you believe in Cupid?”
Her eyes widened. “Why?”
“His arrow just stabbed me in the back.”
She held up her palm, where a spot of red marred the surface. “He got me, too.”
“Then this is Fate,” Theo growled, and slanted his mouth over hers.
This kiss was nothing like the first one. It was confident and real. Vulnerable and unapologetic. Now they both knew the truth. His only weakness was her. This kiss proved it.
Her lips were soft and yielding beneath his. Plump and inviting, as sweet and perfect as he had imagined. Yet he wanted more.
“Slap me,” he whispered as he coaxed her lips to part.
“I will, when you do something I don’t like,” she murmured and opened her mouth to his.
Her kiss was exactly the nectar he had been dreaming of. Sweeter than the scent of roses. More dangerous than their thorns. This was a kiss he could lose himself in completely. He would not escape unscathed.
Each time Virginia relinquished power, she somehow also took it from him. He deepened the kiss. It did not give him the upper hand. She returned each kiss with the same abandon he had tried for so long to keep in check.
But it was a mirage. A wild, utopian fantasy they could indulge once, but never keep. He might not have signed a wedding contract, but his future was preordained. He would marry for his title, not his heart. Which meant he had no right to let Virginia think otherwise, even for a moment.
Reluctantly, he tore his mouth away and touched his forehead to hers.
“I would spend every minute of my time here kissing you if I could,” he forced himself to admit. “But that’s all it could be.”
She nodded. “I know.”
He lifted his forehead and nudged up her chin with his knuckle to force her to meet his gaze. “You deserve more.”
“I know,” Virginia whispered. Without another word, she turned and left.
