Oh, what wasn’t wrong about that question? Yet…
He waited with held breath for her answer.
She nodded, once. “Alone.”
Of course, alone.
He could be a dolt. It was a fact.
She clasped her night-rail tightly to her neck—he could tell her it was too late for such modesty, but decided to leave it unsaid—and whirled around, exiting the room in short fashion, leaving Archie, indeed, alone.
With his thoughts and misdeeds.
For that kiss had, indeed, been a misdeed.
He must rein himself in. That was clear.
He was to help Miss Hart—nothelp himselftoher. He must keep reminding himself.
Not so fine a distinction as the language would suggest.
Yet the kiss confirmed what he’d already suspected. Something beyond the musical pulsed between them.
Attraction…desire…
It wasn’t so much that it had been awakened just now, as expressed.
He didn’t have much practice curbing his desires.
Yet for the sake of his music and his muse he must try.
Chapter Seven
Next day
Valentina took the first step down the wide, magnificent staircase of Casa Windermere, wearing a peacock-blue, borrowed-and-hemmed riding habit, and resisted the urge to turn tail and run.
After all, the Windermere brood standing at the base of the stairs hadn’t yet noticed her. They were too busy loudly debating some topic or another. There was always a topic up for debate in this household.
She’d never worn clothing so fine, or so fitted. It would seem this riding habit had come from the closet of Miss Windermere, who, while taller than Valentina, was about the same size everywhere else. Except for one area. The bosom. Between the tightly laced stays and the fifty or so buttons up the bodice, her breasts had nowhere to go but up—nearly to her chin. They were making quite a spectacle of themselves.
The scales were tipping heavily toward tucking her skirts into her drawers and seeing how fast she could leg it, when Lady Delilah’s eyes swung up, and the rest followed, and it was entirely too late for Valentina. She was trapped.
Continuing her descent, she attempted to keep her gaze averted from Archie, feeling sheepish and unready after last night’s kiss.
Now that she knew the taste of his lips that was how she thoughtof him.Archie.
But her attempt failed. She had to know how he would look in the full light of day.
It turned out he looked exactly like his usual self—not at all like his night self. Dressed in riding clothes and lightly slapping a crop against his muscled thigh, his day self was as handsome as his night self.
He flicked a quick glance her way, but his gaze didn’t linger. She could almost convince herself last night had been a dream.
If her lips weren’t still tingling from his kiss.
“Well, that’s a relief,” he said to Lady Delilah.
“What are you speaking of, dear brother?” asked Lady Delilah, mischief in her eyes.
