He stared down into her dancing eyes, remembering his ill-timed proposal and the cowardly fashion in which he had run from her the day before. He ought to say something, he knew. If only he knew what.
She spared him by touching his cheek. Her gloved fingers were coated in snow, sending the strangest combination of heat and cold through him all at once. “I like your smile,” she said softly, disarming him utterly.
She made him smile. Her mischievousness nature was infectious.
“I cannot recall the last time I ever threw a snowball,” he said.
And wished he had not. He should have taken the opportunity to woo her. To somehow make amends for his foolish offer yesterday.
“You are too serious, Gill.” Her fingertips traced over his mouth.
Snow melted on his bottom lip. He wished she were not wearing gloves. He wanted her skin on his.
He settled for pressing a kiss to her fingertips, impeded by the barrier between them. “I am sorry.”
Her gaze searched his. “You should not be sorry for being too serious. You should smile more. Throw more snowballs.”
An easy solution.
He swallowed past a sudden lump in his throat. What would his life be like, with this unpredictable woman as his duchess?
One word, he thought.
Wonderful.
But how to persuade her? He would have to do better than he had yesterday, ravishing her against a wall and muttering a proposal.
“Perhaps I should practice kissing more,” he said, his voice low. “I find the act far more pleasing than throwing snow.”
Her lips parted. “Oh, yes. I do think you might also practice a bit more.”
He took that as an invitation.
And then he took her lips. The kiss was tentative at first. A mere joining. He was tense, the stakes were higher, the day was bright. They were out-of-doors, though hidden by the sculpted evergreen of the holly bushes. Still, Ash and Miss Prudence were just around the bend. And perhaps others were about.
Kissing her was dangerous.
But he was desperate for her mouth.
The need for her won over all else. Caution was forgotten when she kissed him back, her arms twining around his neck. Her tongue touched his. He groaned, licking into her mouth as the kiss quickly turned carnal.
He ended it before he lost control of himself. He could not press her into the prickly bushes the same way he had pinned her to the wall yesterday. Moreover, he had no desire for his brother to happen upon him whilst he was in the midst of ruining a lady. Nor did he have a wish to ruin Christabella.
He wanted to marry her.
They stared at each other for a heavy moment, silence broken only by the sound of voices in the distance. It was all the reminder he needed. Carefully, he set her away from him.
“We should rejoin my brother and your sister,” he said.
“Must we?” Her grin was teasing.
He wanted to kiss her again, but he did not dare trust himself. Instead, he sank to his haunches and scooped up another ball of snow.
“I surrender,” she said, giggling again.
She was too late. He had already tossed the snowball softly, his aim perfect.
It broke open directly over her heart.
