“I want to pet him first,” Catherine insisted, nearly knocking her brother off his feet in her haste to reach the animal.
“But I saw him first,” Ian retorted.
Yelling and shrieking with excitement, the pair raced riotously across the meadow.
“Be careful or you’ll frighten the poor cat away,” Isabella called, pushing herself upright. She attempted to rise, but discovered she could not. Damien held her hand tightly against his chest.
The children quickly vanished in hot pursuit of their quarry. Damien wasted no time. He pulled Isabella down until she was nearly reclining next to him. Just being so close to her brought him a shivering thrill of anticipation. He fitted his length close to hers, pressing his leg deliberately against hers, wondering if she could feel the power of his desire for her.
“The children are perfectly safe. Besides, I find I like having you all to myself,” he said thickly.
He saw her take a determined breath, but she did not move away. In fact, she appeared to press herself closer to his side. Damien’s palms started to sweat.
He released her hand, reached over, and brushed his fingers against her cheek.
“Isabella.” He spoke her name softly, tenderly.
She lowered her eyes, refusing to meet his gaze.
“Isabella,” he repeated, stroking her neck with his open palm, feeling her tremble beneath his sensuous caress.
“This is madness,” Isabella whispered, tilting her chin toward him in silent invitation. “Sheer madness.”
He kissed her. With wild abandon. Even though they were outside in the light of day, even though his children were only a few hundred yards away, Damien’s mouth descended commandingly upon Isabella’s lips with hunger and need.
He kissed her passionately, totally without restraint. The emotions of last night, the frustrations of the day, careened inside him, nearly out of control. He sought comfort in her arms, he sought understanding, he sought acceptance. He wanted, nay he needed Isabella to feel every bit of his desire for her. He only dared to hope she would return at least a small measure of it.
She didn’t disappoint him. She was warm and willing, and her tongue boldly met his as she melted against him. Cupping her face between his hands, Damien deepened the kiss. He pressed closer, crushing her soft breasts against his hard chest, seeking relief from the heat suddenly building inside him.
“Father! Miss Browning! Look what I’ve found!”
At the sound of Ian’s voice, Damien and Isabella sprang apart. Damien bent his knee to hide the painful swelling in his breeches while Isabella turned away to shield the flush in her cheeks.
Apparently oblivious to the tension, the little boy breathlessly stumbled over the edge of the blanket. He opened his closed hands and proudly displayed his prize.
“A frog. I found a frog.”
The creature made a belligerent croak; then, with a flying leap, dove across the blanket and landed directly in Isabella’s mug of cider.
“Ian!” Damien shouted, as he rolled out of the way. “What the devil are you doing?”
“I’m so sorry, Father.” The little boy squatted down and plunged his hand into Isabella’s cup. “I was holding his leg tight, but he got away. My frog is rather slippery.”
After several attempts, Ian managed to rescue his new friend. He pulled it gingerly from the liquid and held it up for examination. The frog hung limply in his hand, dejected and dripping cider on the blanket. Ian shook it sharply, then turned to his father with bright, questioning eyes.
Isabella coughed discretely behind her hand, trying to disguise her laughter. Damien refused to meet her gaze, certain he would be unable to contain his own mirth if their eyes met.
“I believe the frog will feel better if you put him back where you found him, son,” the earl said solemnly. “He is most likely missing his fellow frogs.”
“Come along, Ian,” Isabella stood on her feet, shaking off the stray drops of cider that had landed on her skirt. “We shall return him together.”
“I’m sorry he jumped in your mug, Miss Browning.”
“ ’Tis all right. I suspect your young frog was thirsty. Do you suppose he had enough to drink before you pulled him out? Shall we give him one last dunk in the cider?”
Ian giggled. He allowed Isabella to dry, then wrap the frog loosely in a linen napkin. He held the cloth tightly, in one fist, then with only slight hesitation clasped her outstretched fingers with his free hand.
Damien watched them leave, feeling unexpectedly lighthearted. She was good for the children. Kind, patient, understanding. He remembered the harsh dictates of his own governess and was glad he was able to provide a far more pleasant experience for his children.
