Anne rarely dwelled on the negative. Sad and painful things made her uncomfortable, especially when she witnessed others in distress. Unlike Juliana who would no doubt wrap her arm around Colin’s shoulder to comfort him and ask him how she could help, or Honoria who would negotiate a truce between Anne and her new husband, or Bea who would approach the issue logically and try to find some scientific solution, Anne only wanted to run from the room and get as far away as possible until the problem went away.
Even Charlotte would take charge and tell Colin to snap out of it.
The truth of why she fought so hard against him hit her square in the chest when the voice in her head accused her.
You’re a coward.
Colin’s attention jerked back to her. His green eyes flared. “I beg your pardon? I am not a coward.”
Oh, dear.She’d done it again, and at the worst possible moment.Run, Anne, run.She gulped, hoping against hope she hadn’t saidthataloud as well. Cold, she felt so cold, and her head felt fuzzy and light as if nothing were in it.
Colin took two long strides toward her and grasped her upper arms. “Anne? What is it? You’ve gone positively white.”
She bit back the bitter taste of fear and swallowed. “I’m the coward. And I’m...I’m sorry.”
“Come sit.” He pulled her toward the bed, and oh, so gently, sat her on the soft mattress. After pouring a glass of liquor and placing it in her hands, he crouched before her. “Sip this.”
The burn of the whisky was as foul as the fear she’d fought, but she sipped. Not because he’d told her to, but because she would do anything to rid herself of the awful feeling. Perhaps the spirits would dull the image of Colin’s tortured expression.
She peeked up at him over the rim of the glass. Yes, it worked. He no longer appeared angry or hurt. Instead, he stared at her, his eyes full of concern and worry. Not much better, but perhaps a little. She took a larger gulp.
Colin laughed and removed the glass from her hand. “Easy. I’d prefer it if you weren’t foxed.”
She gathered her courage. “I truly am sorry. I’m the coward, not you. Sometimes I just say things aloud without realizing.”
He smiled again, that lovely boyish grin he’d had earlier returning. “So I’ve noticed.” Gathering her hands in his, he kissed the inside of one palm. “I won’t force you, Anne, and I’ll do my damnedest to not hurt you. But if you prefer to go to your own room, I’ll understand.”
Wicked shivers tripped up her arm from the kiss. “Do that again.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “The kiss? My pleasure.” He placed another gentle kiss on her other palm, his lips lingering.
No, my pleasure.
His breath brushed against her skin as hechuckled. “I’m glad to hear it.” With tenderness Anne never expected from her grump, he trailed more kisses upward from her palm, lingering at each touch point. First her wrist, then the inside of her elbow, her shoulder, the sensitive spot on her neck, until he finished by nibbling on her earlobe.
Or at least she thought he’d finished.
“I love kissing your freckles. This one in particular.” The trail of kisses moved across her cheek to her nose.
When had he risen from the floor and taken a seat next to her on the bed? Had she really been so lost in those kisses?
She emitted a tiny giggle. She supposed she had.
“Does it tickle?”
Unable to manage even one word, she shook her head.
“Good, because now I’ve come to the best part.” With that, he captured her mouth and sent her mind reeling once again with a kiss that seduced with subtlety. Perhaps Charlotte wasn’t wrong, and she really was an empty-headed ninny. At least around Colin.
His hand cupped her cheek as he deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing at the seam of her lips and requesting entrance, and although she’d balked at the wordobeyin their vows, she did just that.
She lost track of time as he kissed all sense from her.
“Oh, Anne.”
The breathy words tickled her lips. The deep resonance of it sent warmth shooting through her and settled low in her body, the feeling heavy and seeking something she couldn’t name.
When he broke the kiss, she chased his lips. Her mind was as fuzzy as if it were stuffed with wool. She giggled again that the phrase should be wool-headed ninnyhammer.
