Caught off-guard, Reid gasped, taking her breath into his lungs just as her mouth found his. She was sweet and succulent, her tongue wet and hot and ready for his as their lips parted and the kiss deepened.
She made a sound, not quite a groan, but a deep and deliciously sensual growl of pleasure.
His hand came up and found her head. His fingers twined through strands of chestnut silk and he pulled her closer even as her tongue found his and dueled with it in a delightful way. His other hand reached for her only to find her pulling away from him with a sigh.
“Lovely.” She slipped her hand from his chest downward to his waist again, her eyes following. “And yes, you have indeed risen, sir. Very well indeed.”
He fought a blush and moved away from that delicious hand before it ventured further. “Miss, you must not…excuse me, please.” He had to move, to get up and restore some kind of order to this entire bizarre conversation.
It took a bit of doing, rolling to one side and then onto his knees, but with a slow and awkward struggle he managed to make it to his feet, where he was pleased to discover that the world no longer spun around him.
“Now, if you’d tell me who you…” He turned to address his Good Samaritan, only to stop short.
She wasn’t there.
*~~*~~*
It simply couldnotbe possible.
Reid puzzled and frowned as he retraced his steps back toward Chillendale Hall. He’d called out, his voice echoing through the desolate silence, then listened, hoping to catch the sound of a footfall crunching fresh snow.
He’d looked for footprints, and sure enough there were plenty around where he’d fallen. Some were smaller, and they had to be hers. So she wasn’t a figment of his imagination.
But where the devil had she gone? There were no signs of her tracks anywhere.
Finally, after several minutes of useless investigation, he’d given up, surrendering to the discomfort of damp breeches on a freezing cold night.
Taking himself off back along the path, he turned everything over in his mind, trying to recall each minute detail, anything that might give him a clue as to who she was.
That hair. Like chestnuts fresh from their green spiky shell, shining and richly hued, even in the moonlight.
He’d remember that if he ever saw it again, without a doubt. Just as he would remember her fragrance. It was…he paused and considered it as he would an ale in progress. Was it fruity? Fresh? Or heavy, dark and mysterious?
Fresh. Definitely fresh. She smelled like spring in the snow. Lilies-of-the-valley perhaps. Or lilacs. Maybe a blend of both?
He was driving himself slowly mad trying to recall every second of this strange encounter, and he stopped short when he realized it.
What the hell am I doing?
He was more than halfway back home, he’d ignored his primary purpose for being out in the first place, and he was tangled in a web of confusion about a woman he’d thought he’d seen for all of five minutes at most.
This was most unlike him.
He frowned, looked around and half-heartedly grabbed a few branches that had surrendered to the weight of the snow. It was a token effort, but at least he wouldn’t return empty handed.
On a sigh that produced a cloud of breath in cold night air, he strode on, more rapidly now, since the chill of his breeches had reached his arse and encouraged him to make good time back to the Hall and a roaring fire.
Whoever she was, hewouldfind her again. Why he wanted to do so, he wasn’t quite sure. But there it was. Somehow, in those brief moments, with a few touches and a headful of silken hair, she’d gotten under his skin.
And he was going to itch like the devil until this little mystery was solved.
