He didn’t. In that moment, looking at her broken expression, hearing the years of pain stored up in her voice and in the tears he would wager she didn’t even realize were streaming down her face, he didn’t want to know. And yet he couldn’t deny her, or walk away.
“Yes,” he whispered. “Tell me why you married him.”
“He was the first man who looked at me after you marched out of my life without so much as a backward glance,” she said, her tone low and even and cold.
He could hardly breathe as he stared at her, absorbing the pain that seemed to pulse out of her. He swallowed hard. “You—you blamemefor your marriage?”
“Yes,” she hissed out, and then she stopped. She seemed to consider the accusation and her shoulders slumped forward. “No. No, I know it wasn’t your fault. It was mine for not seeing what he truly was. It was mine for believing you wanted me or cared for me when you truly didn’t. For letting that break my heart and make me weak to a manipulative bastard like Barbridge.”
She shook her head and turned, like she was going to walk back to the house. He watched her take a few steps, knowing he should let her go. The situation was too charged, too emotional, to result in anything good. Letting her go was the sensible thing to do.
But he couldn’t be sensible. Not when she was so wrong.
He moved up behind her and put an arm around her, crossing over her chest and drawing her gently back. She stopped moving immediately, going tense in his embrace. But then he felt her relax against him. With a great shudder, she surrendered and her head tipped back to rest against his chest.
“Don’t you think for a moment that I didn’t want you, Felicity. That Idon’twant you.” He slowly turned her until she was fully in his arms, her face tilted up toward his. “Then. Now. Always.”
Yesterday, he’d told himself he’d never try to kiss her again, but now, feeling her breath stir against his lips, seeing her bleary-eyed stare as she looked up at him, there was no resisting it. He needed his mouth on hers like he needed his heart to beat.
Slowly, he lowered his lips, and this time she didn’t pull away. This time her eyes fluttered shut, and as he brushed her lips with his, she let out a great, shuddering sigh of pleasure and perhaps relief.
Her mouth opened beneath his and he caught his breath as the kiss deepened. She tasted like vanilla, too and he delved inside, exploring, stroking, teasing and surrendering to temptation just like he had on the terrace all those years ago.
Only this time she wasn’t an innocent. This time she wound her arms around his neck and lifted into him with an incoherent sound of pleasure. She rocked against him as she gave herself over to him, making little mewling sounds in her throat that he doubted she even recognized.
It was out of control. She gave freely and he took even though some tiny, fading voice reminded him not to do this. That it wasn’t fair to her. It certainly wasn’t fair to him.
He didn’t give a damn. His embrace tightened and he found his hands sliding down her spine, settling on her hips, pulling her closer so that her body molded to his.
She caught her breath with a shuddering sigh and looked up at him. For moment, there was nothing in her stare but pleasure and wanting and surrender. But then it was like she woke up from a dream and realized where she was. He felt her walls slam back up between them, felt her pull away emotionally just before she stepped from his arms and took a shaky step back from him.
She said nothing as she stood staring at him. Nothing even as she lifted a trembling hand to her lips like she could feel him there still. She said nothing but turned and walked away, back up the path toward the house, away from him.
He let her go. Partly because he could see she needed to regain some purchase, some control and given what she’d been through, he wasn’t going to deny her that. And partly because he needed the same.
Kissing her six years ago had been something that haunted him almost daily. A constant drum beat in the back of his mind. This was something different. This was an entire orchestra, dragging behind him, playing an accompaniment to what he wanted.
There was far more power in the kiss today. Because they each understood it better. Because of all that had happened in between.
Far more power and far more desire he was beginning to fear he couldn’t deny. Even if he should.
Chapter Six
Felicity had been able to avoid lunch with the others, but her mother had insisted she join the group for supper. Since she could think of no excuse that wouldn’t bring the village doctor to her bedside, she had agreed.
Now she sat at the table, wedged between her mother and Rosalinde, trying desperately not to look just down the way to where Asher sat.
But not looking at him didn’t help. Not when she could still taste him on her lips, still feel his arms around her. She cast a quick glance down the table and found he had leaned back in his chair and was watching her. Just watching her with those dark, seductive eyes.
She jerked her own gaze away, but it didn’t help in the slightest. The facts were facts and they were undeniable. She wanted this man. Truly wanted him, with every fiber of her being. She all but pulsed with that desire, long buried, long denied. The last time she’d felt it was on the terrace the night of her coming out. Certainly, she’dneverfelt it with Barbridge.
Wanting was terrifying. But there was also something exhilarating in it. She had watched both her brothers and one of her closest friends find passionate love in the past year. Their happiness had made her wonder if there was such a thing as desire that didn’t damage.
Maybe Asher could help wipe away the bad memories, replace them with good ones.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
Felicity jumped at her mother’s words, spoken loudly as she looked at Felicity.
