Dash leaned close, his voice no more than a breath. “If you are wicked, then so is all the world.”
“But a l-l-lady would never…”
“Ladies too,” he murmured, gently coaxing her fingers away from her cheeks. Their faces were close now, so close he could breathe the sweetness of her skin, feel the tremor running through her hands.
She was staring into his eyes now. “I feel different,” she whispered.
“What kind of different?”
Her answer came on a shiver. “Prickly. Achy. Different.”
He shut his eyes, dragging in a sharp breath. Mon Dieu.
“Ambrosia,” he groaned, his voice rough with restraint. “You are killing me.”
He pulled back and sat up. It was that or…
Deep breath. “I won’t break my promise.” A reassurance for himself or for her?
Silence stretched for one long heartbeat… then another.
“What if I want you to?”
His fingers curled into the edge of the folded quilt between them.
It would be so easy. One kiss. One slide of her soft, pink mouth against his.
“You don’t. Trust me,” he said, though it nearly choked him. “You were right before.”
“…Oh. Of course.” Her voice was smaller, and he knew that she’d mistaken his restraint for rejection. “You must know plenty of ladies—ladies with more experience—ones who already know how to kiss.”
His heart cracked. “It’s not that…”
“You are certain you are not married?” she asked.
He almost wanted to laugh at that, bitter though it may be, despite the seriousness of the moment. “I am quite certain. It’s just…” Merde. How to explain?
“There is someone, then,” she said softly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have?—”
“No.” His voice was hoarse, but gentle. “Non, princesse. It isn’t that.”
He exhaled sharply, the truth clawing at his throat, begging to be freed.
“If I kiss you now…” His voice roughened. “I won’t want to stop at just a kiss. When I watched you changing behind the tent—mon Dieu—even before that. Since the window. Since that first moment. I’ve wanted you.”
A pause. He looked away, as if the night might shield him from all the things he couldn’t tell her.
“But if I were honest with you now…” His jaw tightened. “If you knew everything, you’d never look at me the same again. You’d hate me. And I—” He cut himself off, swallowing whatever words had threatened to escape. How had this become so complicated? “I won’t risk that. Not tonight.”
She tilted her head. “So, you do wish to kiss me.”
Ambrosia stared at him, watching the struggle that was occurring so clearly behind his sharp blue eyes.
“Of course,” he growled, collapsing onto his back, one arm flung over his forehead. “But…”
“I’ve no expectations,” Ambrosia said, her voice quiet but steady.
And she didn’t.
