Big mistake.
He was already watching her, eyes dark, unreadable, the kind of look that made words scatter like startled birds. For a heartbeat, neither spoke. The distance between them became the whole of the world.
His head inched closer to hers. “What say you?”
If she could have spoken, she might have hissed a “no.” But the sound never made it past her lips. Even her thoughts refused to form it, leaving her to stare at him in stunned disbelief.
He advanced another inch.
Why didn’t she stop it?
Because some foolish, treacherous part of her didn’t want to. His hand lifted, brushing a curl from her cheek, fingers grazing the shell of her jaw. The touch sent a shiver darting down her spine, different from all the others. He lingered there, thumb resting just beneath her chin as though giving her time to retreat. She didn’t. Couldn’t. Her breath caught when his forehead dipped to hers, the faintest touch, soft, hesitant.
Then his mouth found hers.
Her fingers twitched at her sides, then gave up and curled against the front of his shirt, clutching him. He groaned, and he drew her closer, his free hand sliding to the back of her neck.
This was madness. Beautiful, ruinous madness.
He drew back, eyes meeting hers, searching. “You’ll be the death of me, Alyssia.”
“Then you’ll die a fool.”
He smiled, soft, rueful, devastating. “Gladly.”
Before she could find an answer, he turned, retrieved her luggage, and in that maddeningly calm voice of his, said, “We should go before I forget why we came.”
That wasit?
Her lips pulsed with the imprint of his kiss, and her composure was in absolute revolt. “That might be a good idea.”
But deep down, she knew it was far too late.
You are adeuced crazy fool, Bishop.
What could he say?
The fear had been instant.
Annulment?
That would never bloody happen. Even if he had to turn the villain and kidnap his wife away to a remote castle, he would never annul this marriage.
Never.
He hadn’t, thank God, been barred from his wife’s good graces for the kiss, chaste as though it had been. And Christ, the more he said wife, even in his head, the more he wanted to say it out loud. Thatwouldbar him. For today, at least. A man had only so manychances he could take, he suspected he was running low on them. And he still meant to sleep in the same bed as her tonight.
As soon as they were back in Knox’s carriage, he asked, unable to take the silence any longer. “Are you sure about the masquerade ball?”
Her eyes lifted to meet his, and she seemed relieved about the diversion. “Of course. Are you not?”
“I am, and I am not. Mostly not.”
“We must venture out at some point.”
“Yes, the pests are just annoying.”
“It takes a pest to know a pest,” she countered flatly.
