“But you are still his daughter,” Cain pointed out. “Doesn’t blood make a difference?”
Instead of replying, she turned back to the castle and changed the subject. “The first time I beheld it…” She released a sigh. “I fell in love. I must admit that a part of me wishes that it could be restored to its former, original glory, that it wasn’t falling into decay and used as a farm and tourist attraction for the masses. And yet, I find I appreciate the stillness of it, as if it has finally found peace.”
Cain was captured by the play of emotions that flitted across her face. He could tell, not only by words, that this place meant a lot to her, and that it very well might be her only escape from her structured life.
He pushed open the gate and walked forward. “Your depiction makes me eager to explore.” He shut the enclosure when she was through. “Where do you suggest I start first?”
She smiled at him. “Follow me.”
Excitement coursed through Dove’s veins as she escorted Lord Markel around the entire castle. From the towers to the courtyard, saving her favorite for last.
They walked along a half-crumbled wall where the outlines of windows might have once shone with grandeur. “This is the Great Hall,” she announced with awe. She reached out and ran her hand along the exposed stone. “Isn’t it magnificent?”
“Indeed. It’s all very remarkable.”
Dove glanced up at the husky timbre to his voice, but he turned his head before she could decide if he might be speaking of more than the keep.
Suddenly, butterflies began to swarm inside her stomach, because she realized how remote this place was—and how alone they were. She closed her eyes. She had been entirely too impulsive to leave the village with the viscount and neglect her father. Even though he was recovering, he was still weak. It had been wrong of her to depart, but the temptation to visit the castle had been too strong to resist.
And she would be lying to herself and God if she said Lord Markel hadn’t also been an added incentive for this journey.
She was just about to tell him that they should be returning to the village when a single snowflake crossed before her line of vision. She paused and soon after, another one fell. And another. And another. Until the air was filled with giant flakes falling from the sky.
She laughed, her earlier woes forgotten as she held on to her bonnet with one hand and tilted her face upward and promptly stuck out her tongue. The snow landed softly on her nose and eyelashes but eluded her mouth.
After a moment, she gave up and looked over at the viscount who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a hooded look in his eyes. The snow was coating his bare head, after he’d removed his hat, and his greatcoat, as the flakes made him almost sparkle. She could almost imagine that he wasn’t real, but a fantasy she had brought to life in the midst of a December snowfall.
“You are enchanting, Miss Meriwether.”
Shivers that had nothing to do with the chill in the air, but everything to do with the sensual curve of his mouth, danced up and down her spine.
Dove didn’t know what possessed her, but she slowly walked toward him. She wasn’t certain what she really intended, except the magic of this place had managed to weave some sort of spell around her. Lord Markel remained where he was until she stopped right before him. He lifted a brow in a silent query, but Dove wasn’t as reticent as she’d thought she would be.
She rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him brazenly on the lips.
At first, she thought that he might not respond, but it wasn’t long before his arms wrapped around her as he crushed her against his chest. Her breath instantly left her, making her head spin, but it was worth it, as he deepened the kiss. Fire shot through her limbs, warming her from the inside out. No doubt any snow that fell on them now would instantly sizzle from the heat.
She wound her arms around his neck and was rewarded with a low growl in his throat. She thrilled at the sound, because it was almost… possessive, and oh, how she yearned to be possessed by him.
He altered their positions until her back was up against the stone wall. She gasped and his tongue swooped into her mouth, teasing, taunting, mating with hers. Her breathing became shallow and her legs moved restlessly beneath her skirts. He moved away from her mouth and trailed a scorching path along her jawline to her neck, pausing to suckle there.
“My lord…” she breathed, hardly able to believe that it was her voice she heard.
He replied to her plea with another devastating kiss that made her legs tremble. Dove knew that she should break out of this haze before she made another grave error, but she promised herself just one more kiss, just one more caress, and she would tell him to stop. She hadn’t lost control yet, she just wanted to enjoy these staggering sensations a little bit longer, before she was forced to return to her staid life where passion was forbidden.
At the first touch of his hand sliding along the fullness of her breast, Dove leaned her head back against the stone and closed her eyes.
“Do you like that, my sweet Dove?” His voice rumbled through her.
She loved the sound of her name crossing his lips. “Yes.”
He pressed against her until they were flush, breast to chest and thigh to thigh. The hard length of his manhood pressed against her midsection. “You drive me crazy with desire.”
Dove couldn’t answer, she was drowning in the moment.
Abruptly, the viscount moved away from her, and as the cold interceded, she overheard the sound of approaching voices.
That was when everything came crashing down around her. Reality intruded harshly. She had wanted her interlude with Lord Markel to be a dream, a fantasy that she wouldn’t have to feel shame for, but it had been all too real, and if he hadn’t broken away from her in time, they might have been caught in a compromising position from which her reputation would never have recovered.
