“Miss Jackson, if you are in here, I suggest you come outside before the other guests realize you’ve disappeared.”
Charley’s eyes darted left and right, and she looked about to take flight and expose them both if Jules didn’t do something to stop her. Feeling unusually mischievous, he rose and pulled her up with him.
“Hush,” he whispered as he led her silently around some of the thicker greenery.
“It’s doubtful she’s in here. More likely Miss Jackson simply returned to her chamber.” Stone’s voice sounded uncomfortably close. “Come now, Mrs. Crabtree. You shouldn’t worry yourself.”
“She’s my charge, Mr. Spencer. I take great pride in fulfilling my duties as chaperone. I would have seen her if she’d returned to the manor.”
Jules smiled to himself. Of course, Stone would know that Jules would bring her to this part of the manor. The chaise inside had come in handy for all of them on more than one occasion, what with the cushions and horizontal nature of such a piece of furniture.
He pulled Charley closer as he ducked them into a narrow opening between an ornamental wall and one of the taller shrubs. He didn’t mind that her hair tickled his chin, nor did he mind settling his hand at her waist.
In fact, he minded so little that an altogether different dilemma was coming up.
Would his physical reaction bother her? Would she even understand?
Quickly, he pictured pigs rolling in the mud. Curdled milk. A swim in a cold lake…
“Miss Jackson, I demand you reveal yourself at once!” Mrs. Crabtree’s voice sounding nearer ought to have resolved his issue, but the threat of exposure seemed to only heighten his excitement.
Charley inhaled sharply and then tilted her head back to stare at him with questioning eyes. He could lose himself in those eyes.
He pressed his forehead against hers, touching his fingertip to her lips again. This time, however, he didn’t remove it but drew an imaginary line along the tender flesh just inside her mouth.
Hurried footsteps crunched along the gravel on the opposite side of the wall, but the woman in his arms hardly seemed to notice. This time he would kiss her. And he would take his time, savor her taste until he memorized it.
He tilted his head and bent forward to bring his mouth even with hers.
Looking scared but also excited, she fluttered her lashes before dropping them.
Jules’ gaze flicked to where his finger had been stroking her bottom lip and his own heart raced in anticipation.
“Charley,” he whispered, and she nodded.
His first taste was gentle, tentative. Her lips were softer than a flower’s petals, sweeter than her whiskey. Jules tilted his head, tasting her bottom lip, and then the corner of her mouth, dumbfounded at how quickly his heart was racing.
When she parted them with a delicate sigh, he edged inside and drank some more. Her hands crept up his chest and around his neck and Jules held her even closer. Who was this woman and why did she fit him so perfectly?
When he felt her fingers threading into his hair, he barely suppressed a moan. Kisses didn’t wreck him like this. He trailed his lips around to her cheek, her chin, and then back to claim her mouth again. Tasting, dancing, sharing.
He abandoned her sweet mouth again to taste his way along the length of her neck. When she exhaled a soft cry, he captured her mouth with his again.
He went on, and on, and on… He could kiss her all night, for hours.
“There you are.”
Charley squealed and jumped out of Jules arms in a panicky lurch, practically falling into the branches and leaves. If Jules hadn’t had such a good grip of her arm, she would have disappeared into the shrubbery and possibly injured herself in the prickly brush. Not at all appreciative of the interruption, Jules turned around with a snarl.
Mantis stared back at him, chortling to himself.
“That woman is not going to give up, and if you two don’t make an appearance soon, she’s likely to have your mother send out a search party.” The burly viscount held back the branches that had, until moments ago, provided Jules and Charley with the perfect cover.
Jules growled. He was going to have that discussion with his mother first thing in the morning.
Curses on Mrs. Crabtree.
Still reeling from Jules’ kiss but urged along by his hand at her back, Charley somehow managed to follow Lord Manningham-Tissenton through a side door and out of the orangery. She did her best to keep from stumbling as they scurried along a brush-covered path until they burst into a clearing.
