“Foolish for allowing you to drive my curricle.” He winked. “Daft enough to put my life in your hands.”
And within moments, she was again helpless against his playfulness, the wicked glint in his eyes and his all-encompassing allure.
As promised, he allowed her to drive them across Mayfair and then back again. After their picnic, while driving past Berkeley Square for the second time, she mentioned that she’d never been to Gunter’s. He insisted she take several right turns and return to the square so he could remedy such a travesty. She parked the curricle in the shade of a large tree and when a waiter dashed across the lawn, Peter proceeded to order one of every flavor.
“You must make up for lost time,” His eyes twinkled.
She shook her head. “On the heels of that picnic, I doubt I’ll be able to move after tasting all these ices.” Although, after having a spoonful of the chocolate, lavender, pineapple, and saffron, she still managed to finish off most of the glass full of chocolate.
She placed her hands on her abdomen and rested her head against the back of the bench, at a loss as to when she had enjoyed herself more.
Even knowing several notable members of society could observe them, Miranda didn’t feel the need to feign disinterest or boredom. In fact, sitting beside Peter Spencer, she didn’t even feel the need to try.
“You will play… Rosa for me at the hotel, and I will lie back on that comfortable bed and nap.” She stared at him from beneath half-closed eyes.
His responding glance curled her toes. “Putting you completely at my mercy.”
It was to be their second night together—would it be their last? He was scheduled to depart for Brighton the morning after next.
She sat up straight and turned to face him. “Take me to the hotel now.”
Those perfect blue eyes of his regarded her intently, not bothering to hide his desire, nor his awareness of her need.
With a curt nod, he covered her hand with one of his and waved over the waiter with his other. And as soon as the glasses had been collected, he reclaimed the reins and expertly steered them to the hotel.
Meandering
He collected her shortly after noon the following day and, after allowing her to drive, had her park near Piccadilly Square where they spent nearly an hour perusing Hatchard’s together. Afterward, he led her down Bond Street, where they took tea in one of the teahouses and then walked again, meandering along as though they had all the time in the world, stopping often to appreciate many of the window displays and occasionally venturing inside.
She sampled an array of perfumes in one of the shops and, although he offered his opinion, he did not attempt to pay for her purchase. She was grateful that he did not. Had he done so, it would have tarnished the afternoon. He seemed to realize that, even going so far as to excuse himself while she paid for the perfume she’d decided upon. The scent differed from what she’d always worn in the past. It was warmer, with an orange citrus base and soft floral notes.
When she emerged onto the pavement, he pushed off the wall he’d been lounging against and offered his arm. “It’s perfect for you,” he whispered near her ear.
She glowed at his appreciation. It wasn’t often a woman decided to change her scent. “You don’t think it’s too subtle?”
“Not at all. The aroma expands when it absorbs into your skin. Like you, it’s a bouquet of innocent sensuality.”
The compliment sent tingles down her spine. Only… “Such a contradiction. It isn’t really possible.” She’d embraced her carnal needs and surely, that precluded any notion of innocence.
Didn’t it?
Peter slid her a sideways glance. “There is something childlike about you.” He pinched his mouth together almost as though he hadn’t meant to speak his thoughts.
“I’m practically thirty.” Miranda disabused him of such a ridiculous notion. “Five, six years older than you?”
“Only three. But it isn’t about years.” He raised his free hand, pinching his fingers together, as though the explanation eluded him. “When you tasted the ices yesterday, you finished off the chocolate with refreshing gusto, unapologetically. You are the same with your sexuality.”
Miranda glanced around in alarm. This wasn’t exactly something people discussed while casually strolling down Bond Street and the topic would be considered scandalous—even for her. “I liked the chocolate.”
“And you didn’t pretend otherwise. Eating can be as sensual as making love. I adore the… innocence in your enthusiasm… for both.”
She’d experienced moments where he seemed older than his years. This was one of them.
“Like the enthusiasm you have for your music?” She squeezed his arm. “You still haven’t played for me.”
“I promise I will tonight.” They walked together in silence, and she wondered if he too was reflecting on his imminent departure.
But then he added, “I love playing. I love the feel of the strings, the vibrations as I draw the bow back and forth… The music defines who I am, and I could not live without it. Only…”
