She smiled, but there was no humor in it. “Aren’t there always?”
Griffin had reason to know the truth of it. “If Alastair hadn’t offered you as his marker, what would you have done?”
“You mean how would I have paid the staff, the creditors, and managed the house in his absence?”
“That is precisely what I mean.”
“I don’t know. That’s as honest an answer as I can give you. I’ve thought about it often enough, but I can’t say that I ever arrived at a satisfactory solution. You must have realized it. I can pretend that you are keeping me here, yet we both know I need to be kept. I haven’t tried to bolt, have I?”
“I’d bring you back,” he said.
“You would, and I’d let you.” The admission shamed her. She looked away, annoyed by the tears that surfaced with so little to provoke them. She made a quick swipe at her eyes and bit down hard on the inside of her lower lip. Pain was a balm for thornier emotions.
Olivia didn’t know when Breckenridge had come to stand in front of her, but he was suddenly there. Quiet. Attentive. Waiting. She glanced up, blinked, and forced composure into what could easily have been a watery smile. An arched eyebrow served as a question.
Griffin leaned forward, slipped his palms under Olivia’s elbows, and lifted. She came to her feet easily, without resistance, and stood inches from him, her head still raised but her smile faltering at the edges.
“We are of a kind, you and I,” Griffin said quietly. “I think you know it’s true.”
Then he bent his head and laid his mouth over hers. There was very little pressure in the kiss, just a touch, a tender brush. Sweetness and solace. He offered only as much as he thought she could accept and was uncertain from the beginning if she could accept any of it. Her lips trembled under his, and her breath came lightly, then not at all.
His hands slid from her elbows to the small of her back. He resisted the urge to pull her closer and let her find her own way into the shelter of his embrace. She edged closer, her mouth parting. He changed the slant of his mouth, licked her lower lip with the damp edge of his tongue. The breath she’d been holding was released on the faintest of sighs.
He caught the scent of lavender on her skin and the taste of mint on her mouth. The fragrance made him think peculiarly of innocence—the taste of things fresh and unsullied. He deserved neither, he thought, and took a measure of comfort that neither were being offered to him. His imagination supported what he craved, but the reality was merely lavender and mint.
Olivia raised her hands, then let them fall back to her side. She hadn’t quite known what she wanted to do with them. Touching him, her fingers on his shoulders, at the back of his neck, drifting into the curling ends of his dark hair, all of it seemed too much, or possibly it was that it wouldn’t have been enough.
His kiss made her remember emptiness and longing. It made her think of what she could have in the moment but would always be denied in the forever. In spite of that, or perhaps because of it, the kiss stirred her.
Warmth became heat; desire displaced comfort. She wondered why she was no longer afraid, why standing in the circle of his arms should make her abandon good sense and caution.
He smelled faintly of tobacco and tasted of brandy. She thought of things certain and solid. He held her loosely, but she could have leaned back against the clasp of his hands and he would not have let her fall. It was the very security of the embrace that allowed her to soar, to feel what was unimaginable only minutes ago.
She did not deserve it, she thought, and took a measure of comfort that she had not asked for it, that he could not know what he’d given her. Her imagination supported what she craved, but reality was tobacco and brandy and a pair of hands at the curve of her back.
The kiss deepened, held.
Then it was over.
They drew up simultaneously. He lifted his head; she lowered hers. Still feeling the stamp of the kiss on their lips, they stared at each other.
Griffin spoke first, his voice thick and husky. “That was unexpected.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve wanted to…from the first.”
Olivia was not prepared to be quite so honest. She simply nodded and let him make of it what he would.
Griffin blew out a breath, ran his fingers through his hair. “What do you—”
She didn’t allow him to finish. “It shouldn’t happen again.”
“Are you certain?”
She wasn’t, but Olivia didn’t think she could show weakness. “Yes. You’re married.”
He didn’t react. “Did you think I’d forgotten?”
