* * *
One moment,she had been languishing in the heartache of the not-so-distant past, thinking of Arthur, and the next, Zachary was kissing her, his mouth hot and commanding on hers. All her worries about their mutual pasts fled, banished to the far reaches of her mind and replaced by desire. Warmth washed over her, and it had nothing to do with the sunlight at last peeking through the clouds overhead.
Rather, it had everything to do withhim.
His gloved hands cupped her face as he devoured her mouth. She felt the coolness of the leather, the subtle strength in his fingers holding her with such delicacy and tenderness, as if he feared she would break. The dichotomy was delicious. But that was notallthat was delicious. His tongue dipped inside her mouth, and she sucked on it, desperate need making her forget to behave.
Was she a wanton?
Or was he the man she needed to bring her back to life?
She did not know the answers, and it ceased to matter when he was kissing her this way, as if she were the most decadent sweet and he wished to devour her. Her hands flew to his shoulders, clutching him. Seeking him. Needing him desperately.
How had they gone from such a grim conversation to this? Another question without an answer.
He groaned, and then he raised his head, looking down at her with such unexpected intensity, eyes brighter than a summer’s sky. “God, Izzy. I could kiss you all day.”
She licked her lips, tasting him on them, and wanting more. “I would not argue.”
Indeed, kissing him appealed far more than further attempts at restoring Barlowe Park to a semblance of order while the woman he had once loved watched with a disdainful eye. She greatly regretted urging him to allow Lady Anglesey to remain, and now that she knew the full details of her betrothed’s past with his brother’s widow, she was newly suspicious of the other woman.
But the widowed countess was nowhere to be seen here, and thank the heavens for that. There was no one to interrupt them save the birds flying and calling overhead. The serenity of this place was truly noteworthy.
He gave her a wicked smile, his dimple appearing. Without a word, he kissed her again. She clung to him more tightly, rising on her toes to press herself against his body. She opened for him, eager, wanting, aching. Their tongues mated. The heat simmering through her veins pooled between her thighs, and she remembered how very good his tongue and lips had felt on her there, where molten heat and desire gathered anew.
It was wrong.
They were not yet married. Their intimacies in the library had already exceeded the bounds of propriety. They were in the out of doors on a rocky path far from the manor house where any moment, their remaining guests would begin to arrive. Likely, her family was looking for her, wondering where she had disappeared to.
But he made her forget.
He feathered kisses along her jaw, finding his way to the curls her lady’s maid had fashioned at her temple, his hot breath ruffling them. “Let me make amends for last night, darling.”
She should deny him. They ought to return to the house and their duties.
His confession about the past had changed something between them, however. He had trusted her with a very deep and hidden part of himself. Their bonds were stronger than ever. They may have become betrothed by a series of mistakes, their path sealed by their broken hearts and her reckless foolishness. But the more she learned about Zachary, the more time she spent in his magnetic presence, the more he seduced her with his knowing hands and lips, the more connected she felt to him.
She knew it was dangerous to feel so strongly for a man she scarcely knew, and so soon after Arthur had destroyed her with his betrayal. But Zachary was going to be her husband now. Arthur had made it abundantly clear he had chosen Miss Harcourt over her.
“Say yes,” Zachary said, kissing her ear.
Arthur fell away.
So did responsibility.
And everything else keeping her from surrendering to the man holding her in his arms.
“Yes,” she said, rubbing her cheek against his, inhaling deeply of his scent, which mingled with the fresh crispness of the landscape. Why wait? Why deny either of them what they both so desperately wanted?
He kissed her again, swift and hard, then took her hands in his. “Come.”
He was taking her somewhere else? But where?
No time for questions. He was leading her along the path, the rest of the way down the hill.
“Watch your step, darling.”
She did. More roots buckled the path in impediments. Then an area where the river must have overflowed its banks and washed a deep series of ruts into the path during some summer storm. But on she went, following him. Because in that moment, she would have gone anywhere as long as it was with Zachary.
