“Amelia,” he whispered, leaning almost imperceptibly closer.
Her heart pounded like a tremendous crescendo.
His eyes returned to her own, as if seeking permission to close the space between them. Drawn by a force she could not deny even if she’d wanted to, she lifted her chin.
It was all the assent he needed. His hand came to cradle her head, and he lowered his mouth to cover her own.
Sparks ignited as he brushed a light kiss across her lips.
Thatwas no kiss.
He seemed to agree. He shifted on the bench, facing her more directly and tilting her chin to him once more. Their lips met in the middle, with far more pressure than before. Amelia had never been kissed before. Had hardly even been held by a man. But she needed no comparison to know how very incredible the feel of his lips were on hers. Fire spread through her. Comprehension fled. There was only her and Edward, and how very much she wished to stay in this exact position until she needed breath.
No, even breathing could wait.
His mouth moved across hers, both his hands now gently holding her face, his fingers pushing into her hair, knocking curls from their confinement.
A cacophony of noise suddenly startled them apart.
Breathing heavily, Edward looked for the cause of the sound.
“The pianoforte.” Amelia laughed as thought returned—barely. “We must have hit the pianoforte.”
Edward’s face went from startled to frustrated. “Blasted instrument.” He glanced to her sheepishly. “Er, I apologize.”
“No need. We are quite in agreement on that count.”
He laughed. Not quite meeting her eyes, he leaned over to brush a curl back behind her ears. “I also apologize for your hair,” he muttered.
She lifted a shoulder. “It is not the first time you have been its downfall.”
His responding smile was bright. Almost too quickly for her to have noticed—but she certainlydidnotice—Edward pressed another, firm kiss to her lips.
“I will miss you.” His murmured words sent warmth swirling about her again.
“And I you.” It was surprisingly difficult to relinquish those words. They were true, but she still struggled to voice them, to free them from a place of security in her own mind.
“I ought to leave.” His voice was low.
“Yes, you should.” She would rather he didn’t.
“But I do not wish to.” His smile was rueful.
She smiled, somewhat sadly, in return. “Nevertheless.”
He heaved a great sigh as he pushed from the bench. “I will return as soon as I can manage.”
And then he bent, pressed a kiss to her cheek, and left.
***
Her cocoon of joy lasted until the next morning. And then Amelia began questioning everything.
She hated that she was, but once she was removed from Edward’s inviting presence, she realized too many unknowns still remained. It was infuriating, as nearly every part of her wished to simply relive that kiss over and over again.
Yet she could not because of one frustrating, doubting feeling that undermined all reason.
What was real and what was pretend? Which parts of their marriage were a charade, and were any parts genuine? All were genuine on her part.
