“That I will not be the same man before you,” he said, voice edged. “That another kiss will have me begging for more.”
“I would not say no if you wanted more, Dash.” She took another step forward. “I promised I would not lie to you.” She narrowed her gaze. “Unlike you, I keep my promises and my oaths.” She tilted her head to the side. “But if you kiss me again, and you truly do not want me I will respect it. This isn’t about my desires. It’s about the truth and we both know that you have dishonored that vow you made to me.”
Despite himself, something like a bitter laugh scraped out of him. “I never claimed to be honorable.”
“That is true,” Vivy stepped closer, her gaze unwavering. “But all I want is for you to stop pretending you are untouched by what happened between us.”
Dash drew in a breath and he knew. He could not avoid what she demanded. Not when every part of him wanted exactly what she did. She had challenged him with the one thing he could not deny…the truth of his desire. “Fine,” he said, his voice rough and filled with surrender edged with his stubborn pride. “You want another kiss?”
“Yes.” Her breath hitched in her throat as she uttered that one word.
“Then you will have it,” he said, the words were like a vow and a warning both. “But do not mistake my weakness for your victory.”
Vivy’s chin lifted. “I would never mistake you for weak.”
That broke what remained of his control. Dash surged forward and slid one hand to her waist, and he pulled her flush against him with an urgency he could no longer hide. He used his other hand to frame her jaw in his palm and tilted her face up.
Then he kissed her.
Her lips parted beneath his with a soft sound that went straight through him. Heat flooded him, deep and relentless, and for one wild moment he forgot everything. Everything disappeared except his fierce, impossible need to keep her close.
Vivy’s fingers curled into his coat, holding him as if she feared he might vanish. Dash tightened his hold as he groaned. The kiss turned hungry and heated. They were two people colliding with years of restraint and longing. When he finally broke away, only because he had to breathe, he rested his forehead against hers and drew in a ragged breath.
“There,” he rasped. “Are you satisfied?”
Vivy’s smile was breathless and triumphant and entirely unrepentant. “No,” she whispered. “But I am convinced.”
Dash closed his eyes. Because he was convinced too. Now he would have to survive the consequences of wanting her as much as he did. Because he had proven her point and they both knew it. He could not resist her, and he needed her more than anything. He was done denying it to her and himself. When it was all done, he would claim her in truth and make her his. He did not want to live without her. But that was a discussion for another day. Though he could not help thinking she would never truly be safe as long as she was in his life…
Nine
Morning arrived before Vivy was ready to greet the day. Pale light sifted through the curtains and glided over the edges of the room. It made the polished wood a hue similar to honey. For a few bewildering moments, Vivy lay still and listened. The echo of carriage wheels carriage wheels over cobblestone did not fill her ears and distant hum of London’s perpetual commotion was nonexistent.
The only sound she could ear were birds chirping merrily outside the window. She had spent the night beneath Lord Ravenwood’s roof. Dash, she reminded herself—because he had insisted, and because the name now lived in her mouth like something dangerous and sweet.
She rose and dressed with a haste that made her maid’s earlier assistance seem like a distant, almost impossible luxury. When she finished fastening her ribbon, she caught her own reflection and paused. Her eyes were too bright and her mouth looked softer than it had yesterday.
The memory of his kiss was seared into her mind. She could almost feel his lips on hers… Vivy pressed her fingers to the edge of the dressing table and forced herself to think of practical matters, because practicality was the only thing that kept one from floating off into ruin.
Ruin…the word tightened her chest.
She left her chamber and found Dash in a small breakfast room, standing near the window with a cup of coffee he had clearly forgotten to drink. The morning light struck his hair, turning the deep chestnut strands faintly bronze, and it should have made him look gentler. It did not. He was still Dash. Still the spy hardened by his years on the continent, and she still loved him.
“Good morning,” Vivy said, and tried to make it sound like a normal greeting and not the opening line of a scandal.
Dash turned, his gaze meeting hers with a brief intensity that made her stomach dip. Then his expression smoothed back as he settled into the composed man he presented to the world. “Vivy,” he said, his voice low, as if he were testing her name again in the quiet.
She swallowed and reminded herself why she had come. “My family will be worried,” she blurted. “I vanished from the garden party. Lizbet will have noticed.” Her sister would have been engrossed in Horatia’s tales for most of the party, but even she would have noticed her absence. “My mother…” She halted, because imagining the duchess’s fury made her want to flee to France.
Dash set his cup down with deliberate calm. “I have handled it.”
Vivy blinked. “You have?” How was that even possible? They left so abruptly.
“I sent word to Lionston,” Dash said simply, as if arranging her life were a simple matter. “He informed your sister and your mother that you remained with his wife.”
Vivy stared at him. “My family believes I am with Sabrina?”
Dash nodded once.
