He made certain the oars were secure in their holders, and then he lowered himself until he was flat on his back at her side. Leveraging himself on an elbow, he leaned over her and plucked the hat from her head. With a flourish, he pretended to toss it overboard.
“You would not dare,” she said, giggling at his easy humor.
Being with him was so natural, so fulfilling. For the first time, she felt…oddly complete.
“I would never, partially for fear it may take flight on its own.”
She laughed as he placed the hat—and its massive feathers—aside. “You are indeed no gentleman, first threatening to throw my hat into the lake, and then insulting its feathery adornments.”
He grinned before settling on his back once more and turning to her. “I mean no insult to your millinery. However, it was keeping me from what I wanted to see most. Your lovely face.”
She turned her face toward his as well. His gaze burned into hers, his expression growing serious.
“I have been waiting,” she admitted.
“For me to throw your hat into the lake?” He cupped her cheek, his hand rougher than she would have expected.
Callused, she thought. Strange for a gentleman, but she liked the way it felt on her skin. His hand was large but gentle. Tender.
“To the devil with my hat. I have been waiting for you to kiss me again.”
“You have?” The teasing tone returned to his voice as he leaned nearer and planted a kiss on her forehead. “There you are, love.”
“Not there,” she said, her heart thudding so loudly she fancied he could hear it.
“Here, then.” He kissed her cheek.
“No.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Why, barefoot duchess, I do believe you have a smattering of freckles here.”
“They multiply in the sun,” she told him with a raised brow. “Hence the need for my hat.”
“I think your freckles are utterly charming.”
“I thinkyouare.”
She moved first, tilting her head toward his and finding his lips. But the moment their mouths met, he took control. On a groan of raw need, he kissed her harder, molding his lips to hers before his tongue slipped inside to taste her, just as he had promised he would. She settled a hand on his shoulder, rolling into him until her breasts crushed against his chest and their hips united.
His tongue moved sinuously, stroking hers. He tasted of tea and the forbidden, and she could not quell her breathy sigh of delight as he kissed her deeper. The week of wait had been worth this moment, this connection, this kiss.
This man.
She could not control herself. Her desire pitched into a wild frenzy as she explored his lips as he had hers, her tongue delving into his mouth. He sucked, then nipped at her lower lip with his teeth before kissing down her jaw to her throat. There, he inhaled deeply.
“You smell of roses and sunshine, and I cannot get enough of you.”
His growled admission, issued against her bare throat, sent a pulse of need to her core. Her heart was traveling at the speed of a galloping horse, and she wondered if he could feel its haste beneath his lips as he hovered over the place where its frantic beats must be most apparent.
He smelled of shaving soap and delicious man, and she could not get enough of him either. She would have told him, but her capacity for speech was severely diminished by the trail of kisses that led to a hollow behind her ear. When he ran his tongue over her, she nearly came out of her skin.
“Oh,” was all she could manage, and she did not know if it was a moan, a plea, or a prayer.
All she did know was that Robin was bringing her body to life in ways she had never dreamed he would. She wanted him with a desperation that almost alarmed her. She was not meant to feel this much passion for a man who was bound to leave her life, and she knew it. But somehow, rational thought had ceased to exist the moment he had first pressed his lips to hers in the library.
And now, with the sun streaming down on them and the day summery and bright and laden with possibilities, she could not bring herself to heed her own admonitions. All she wanted was to kiss Robin. To enjoy these rare moments of freedom, beyond the tight leash of Longleigh’s disapproval.
He nuzzled the sensitive flesh of her throat. “I cannot make love to you in a boat in the midst of the day.”
