Standing under the shelter of the gazebo Nathan drew Lydia into his arms. His silver-gray eyes held her motionless, and when he spoke his voice was a low, deep whisper. “Are you as curious as I am?” he asked.
Lydia’s natural honesty kept her from pretending ignorance. She knew exactly what he was talking about and denying it served no purpose that she could see. He fascinated and frightened her. In that moment she really didn’t care what his intentions were; she wanted to taste his mouth again.
Chapter 5
His lips were softer than she expected, his touch curiously respectful, even reticent. He made the kiss gentle in its seeking and Lydia was unafraid when he drew her still closer to him. She liked the way his mouth made contact with her for only a brief moment, just brushing her lips, urging them apart with only a suggestion of pressure.
Lydia’s hands rose between them, not to push Nathan away as he first suspected she might, but to grasp the front of his jacket and hold on as she swayed dreamily. It made him smile.
Her eyes opened and stared straight up into his. “Have I done something wrong?” she whispered. She drew in her lower lip, uncertain now, and a tiny frown appeared between her eyebrows. “You don’t want to kiss me anymore.”
“The truth is, Lydia,” he said quietly, “I’m not so sure I’ll ever want to stop.”
“That’s all right, then.” Standing on tiptoe, it was she who initiated the kiss this time, touching him in the same manner he had touched her. It satisfied, then frustrated, and it was then that Nathan took control again.
At the first faint stirrings of passion he pressed for a more intimate response. Tilting his head, his mouth slanted across hers. They shared a breath, an indrawn gasp, and he tasted the sweetness of her mouth as she gave him what he sought.
Nathan’s kiss excited her senses. Lydia knew the hard, angular planes of his body in contrast to hers, the beat of his heart through her fingertips, and heard the small sounds of her own passion rising. Behind her eyelids was a sunburst of color and in the center of her was another one of heat.
Backing Lydia against the gazebo’s latticework, Nathan’s hands slid from the small of her back to the underside of her breasts. Cornered, she stilled momentarily, aware and wary. He did nothing except wait, and when she swayed into him he knew she had accepted his touch.
His tongue traced the line of her upper lip, teasing a tiny shudder out of her. When the vibration was passed onto him he felt as though the kiss had come full circle. The innocence that was Lydia’s, however, could never be his. The most he could hope for was that she would share his guilt.
Lydia stretched, sliding her arms around Nathan’s shoulders, flattening herself against his chest. His thumb brushed the tip of her left breast and she sucked in her breath as she felt the tug of pleasure in the very soles of her feet. His lips were hard now; his tongue speared her mouth in a rhythm that was suggestive of another kind of intimacy.
“My God!”
The sharp, bitter invective drove a wedge between Lydia and Nathan. Nathan was surprised less by the interruption than by his own degree of disorientation. In spite of repeated warnings to himself, he hadn’t kept his head, and a single glance at Lydia told him she had not done nearly as well as he. His hands dropped to Lydia’s waist and he steadied her, drawing her away from the lattice. He took a half step in front of her, partially shielding her from the censure of the intruders.
Madeline released Brig’s arm, but she made no movement toward the gazebo steps. “That was an unbecoming display, Lydia,” she said coldly. “Come out of there at once and go inside. We’ll talk of this later.”
Before Lydia could move, Nathan spoke. “Good evening, Mrs. Chadwick,” he said with considerable civility. He nodded in Brig’s direction. “Brigham. It’s quite a pleasant evening for enjoying the gardens, don’t you think?”
Madeline was not amused by Nathan’s cool and unruffled tones. “The only thing that you were enjoying, Mr. Hunter, was my daughter. And she apparently had no qualms about letting you.”
“Mother,” said Lydia. The rush of heat to her face had scarcely lessened since she and Nathan had been interrupted, and some invisible pressure on her throat made it hurt to speak. “Please. It wasn’t—”
“You can explain it all inside, Lydia,” Madeline said, unwilling to listen. “Though how you shall explain it to Mr. Moore is beyond my comprehension. He dropped in to return a pair of gloves you left in his carriage this afternoon. You may as well have thrown them in his face.”
Lydia found it difficult to meet her mother’s eyes. She had not once ventured a look in Brig’s direction. “Gloves?” she asked, grasping at the conversation to shield her complete humiliation. “I don’t think I was wearing any. They must have fallen out of the pocket in my...”
Well acquainted with Lydia’s tears, Nathan sensed her struggle to control them now. He turned his back on Brig and Madeline long enough to ask Lydia if she wanted his escort to the house.
“No, thank you. I’ll be all right.”
He searched her downcast face and wished that he might lift her chin and raise her eyes so he would know the truth. “Will you?”
She nodded. “I just shouldn’t have let...” Lydia didn’t finish her thought. She pushed past Nathan and fled the gazebo and then the garden.
Madeline stared hard at Nathan. “Once my husband hears of this, Mr. Hunter, I don’t think you’ll be welcome any longer.” She thought that he would leave immediately, make an apology at the very least. Instead, he did neither of these things. He returned her look with an insolent half-smile and eyes that expressed contempt. Finally it was Madeline who turned away. “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Moore,” she said.
“Of course,” he said gallantly. “And please don’t take Lydia to task on my account. I’d like to think she only wanted to make me jealous.”
Madeline hurried up the walk to the house. Neither Brig nor Nathan spoke again until they heard the door close behind her. Brig was carrying a crystal-knobbed ebony cane. He tapped the silver tip against the flagstones and laughed softly as Nathan came toward him. “If you’re going to throw a punch, Nath, at least let me move to the grass.”
Nathan stopped in front of Brig, but he made no move to lift a hand against him. “She wasn’t trying to make you jealous,” he said, “because she didn’t know you were there.”
“Are you certain about that?” Brig asked good-naturedly. “After all, she was facing in the direction of the house when Madeline and I came out.”
