“You have kissed him?” Grace asked, brows going skyward. “How many times?”
More times than she could count.
All those kisses came flooding back to her now, along with a rush of tangled-up emotions. His mouth on hers…it was bliss. She wanted it again. What did that mean?
She swallowed, contemplating her response. About to lie.
“More times than she cares to admit,” answered Bea on her behalf.
Her youngest sister was wise beyond her years. But Christabella glared at her all the same. “How do you know?”
“Your expression,” Eugie answered definitively.
“You look guilty,” Pru observed.
“Guiltier than whom? Than any of the rest of you?” she could not help but to counter. She was feeling defensive, yes. But being examined by her sisters had not been her intention this evening. Indeed, she had meant to hold her tongue. To say nothing.
To…
What?
To forget Gill had ever kissed her? To forget he had turned her world asunder each time he touched her? To forget the mindless bliss he had visited upon her with his fingers alone?
How could she forget any of that? Moreover, how could she forget him?
The answer seemed glaring, if unwanted.
She could not.
But he was not what she wanted. He was not a rake. He had not declared his love for her in charming and effusive fashion. He had not led her into a darkened chamber and ravished her.
The only problem with all that logic was that she was beginning to fear those were all just childish fancies. The longings of a girl who had never before been swept away by a man before her rather than a man between the pages of a book.
Her sisters were gaping at her in the wake of her outburst.
Christabella raised her fingertips to her cheek and discovered the reason why as she touched the wet trails of her tears. She was weeping. Weeping and miserable and confused. So horribly, irrevocably confused.
“You are in love with him,” Bea declared.
“Nay,” she denied. “I am not.”
“Do you want to kiss him again?” Grace asked. “Is he all you can think of, even when you close your eyes to sleep at night?”
Yes.
She clamped her lips tight.
“Does being in his arms make you feel as if you have come home?” Eugie added next.
She thought of his citrus and musk scent, his long, strong arms. Thought of how effortlessly he had scooped her into his arms. Thought of clinging to him. Of his embrace.
“It is pleasant enough,” she allowed grudgingly.
Which was, of course, a wretched lie.
Being in Gill’s arms waseverything.
“Is he the one you continually find yourself drawn to, even when it goes against everything within you, all your reason, your common sense, your best intentions otherwise?” Pru added, her tone contemplative.
