Her smile faded, a vulnerability he’d never seen before glistening in her eyes. “I assume you came up with a plan to refute that incriminating photograph of us?”
His gaze never once left hers. It couldn’t. The pull of her was too strong. Meeting with her here had been a poor choice, yet he was powerless to step away now. And for once he didn’t mind such a weakness. “TheTimeswill retract their insinuations of you and me in tomorrow’s edition.”
You and me.What blessed words.
Would that it might always be so.
Her nose scrunched ever so slightly. “How did you manage that?”
“By giving their lead reporter a press invitation to tonight’s gala.”
“Ah.” Her lips curved. “Bribery.”
“I prefer to think of it as incentive.”
“Ever the businessmanandsoon to be member of Parliament. I’m very happy for you, you know.” Her smile vanished, replaced by a sadness in the press of her mouth, a sorrow he couldn’t begin to understand.
At length, she murmured, “Oxford won’t be the same with you here in London.”
“About that...” Once again he ran his hand along her arm, more than pleased when she leaned into his touch. A good sign for a favorable answer to what he was about to propose. “I was wondering if, perhaps, you could be persuaded to take a position at the British Museum. Your father is friends with the Egyptian curator there. I’m sure he could get you in. It’s a purely selfish suggestion, mind you, but the thing is, I cannot bear the thought of such a distance between us.”
“Nor I.” Tentatively, she reached up and rested her palm against his jaw. “I’ve grown rather accustomed to seeing this face every day, and I should sorely miss it.”
“And I’ve grown rather accustomed to the lift of your brow when you’re curious.” He brushed his finger across her forehead. “Furthermore, I have adapted to the way you blush when I catch you looking at me.” His touch trailed to her cheek, then over her nose. “I am completely attached to your delightful freckles and...”
Boldly—quite irresistibly—he glided his hand beneath her chin, tipping her face toward his. “I find I can no longer live without tasting those lips of yours.”
Her chest rose and fell visibly. Several times.
“Then by all means,” she breathed, “do so.”
He didn’t require any further invitation.
His mouth came down hard on hers—or was that deep hunger of her lips against his? He’d kissed Louisa before—and kissed her well—but never had it been anything like this. Theconnection he shared with this woman went far beyond the physical ... and yet there was no denying just how pleasurable the physical aspect was.
He pulled away, heart racing, wanting more than he had a right to. “Ami, I ... I know this is too soon for convention, but ... well, what I mean to say is ... I wonder if—” Hang it all! He couldn’t put two words together if half the Queen’s army aimed guns at his chest.
Drawing in a huge breath for courage, he shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper.
Then held it up.
Ami struggled to breathe, her heartbeat so erratic she gripped Edmund’s sleeve to remain standing. Polly had once tried to explain how a kiss felt, but this was nothing at all like the gushy warm feeling her friend had described. This was fire. Dangerous. Eternal. And altogether intoxicating. Either the small alcove she shared with this man was spinning or she was.
With her other hand, she plucked a torn piece of paper from Edmund’s fingers. A curious offering, given the circumstances, and yet when she gazed at the misspelled words, her heart melted.
Wut soft lite doth brake be-ond,
At donning, in this golden morn,
In yor eyes, my wurld’s reborn
New promis, new luv, for-ever sworn.
He’d written this for her? More than that, he’d risked showing it to her even after having his heart crushed when he’d done so with Louisa?
Overcome, she wrapped her fingers around the slip of paper, wrinkling it but not caring, owning it, possessing it, more than willing to become one with this man’s sentiment.
“Ami?” Edmund’s brow knit into worried lines.
