Anxious to have his feet on the ground, he deftly leapt off the curricle and circled to Melanie’s side.
Melanie, who had the uncanny ability to summon all his unseemly secrets.
But rather than looking put off, as a proper lady ought to, she was instead merely contemplating the distance between her and the ground.
Earlier, she’d climbed onto the vehicle with relative ease, but climbing down was a different sort of challenge. “How does one?—”
“Put your hands on my shoulders,” he said. “Don’t worry about finding the steps.”
Following just a moment’s hesitation, she did as he suggested, shifting her weight to him while he grasped her waist. Even so, when her feet hit the ground, her knees buckled slightly.
Malum could have just as easily supported her with his hands on her waist, but instead, found himself winding his arms around her.
Her breath hitched.
She held his stare for only a second before dropping her lashes and laughing nervously. “I’ve been sitting for too long.”
But when she moved to back away, he didn’t release her.
She laughed again, breathless, but kept her hands on his shoulders. When she lifted her gaze to meet his again, she licked her lips.
And just like that, the birds fell silent. The breeze stilled.
This woman was innocent, but the flush in her cheeks and the light in her eyes stemmed from… excitement.
If Malum had been tempted earlier that morning, he was doubly so now. How hadn’t he noticed the delicate shadow her lashes cast on her skin, faint and fleeting in the shifting light? The sheen on her lips, a dusty rose invitation that begged to be accepted.
Or the way her pulse fluttered just beneath the skin at her throat, visible only because he was looking so closely.
“Melanie.” He tested her name on his lips. The syllables were soft, almost musical.
Her body, pressed against his, seemed to fit perfectly.
She was, in fact… a symphony.
He flicked his stare from her eyes to her mouth again, his heart pounding faster than usual.
He caught the seam of his glove between his teeth, his gaze never leaving hers as he tugged it free in one slow, measured motion. He let the moment linger, the absence of the barrier sharp and deliberate, before sliding the glove into his pocket.
She didn’t move.
His bare fingers found the back of her neck, her skin delicate and impossibly smooth beneath his touch.
Willing.
That thought alone sent a pulse of something through him—something he wouldn’t name. Couldn’t. His thumb traced a light, unhurried line along the base of her skull, and then, unable to help himself, he slid his fingers upward, threading them into her hair. It was thicker than it looked, silkier than he’d imagined, the curls catching lightly between his fingers in a way that made him want to pause, to explore further.
For a man who prided himself on control, he was flirting with temptation. The realization came with a sharp edge.
A few pins fell out. The jaunty hat she’d been wearing slipped onto the ground, but she didn’t complain.
Her mouth parted, allowing a whisper of a sigh to escape.
Malum leaned in and then dipped his head, touching his mouth behind her ear.
Another gasp, this one of surprise but also—that excitement—and she tilted her head.
“Harry.”
