Would Ewen’s gentle hands feel rough against her face? Will his tender lips feel harsh against hers? A man who seemed to hold nothing but disregard had been so gentle. What about a man who showered her with flowery words?
She was curious.
Darragh had asked not to be disturbed that morning, and when he made demands, they were usually met. So when his mother’s maid stumbled into his study looking panicked, he rose to his feet.
“What is the matter with me maither?”
“Yer maither is fine, except the fact I cannae find her, me Laird.”
“What do ye mean, ye cannae find her?”
Her mouth dropped open in surprise, as though she had not anticipated the question. “I am sure she is fine where she is. Nay, she’s perfectly fine where she is.”
“How do ye ken that?”
“She sometimes goes on strolls without informing anyone and returns sometime later.”
He would have suspected she was telling tall tales to quell his ire at her negligence, but she had spoken too guiltily, belying a constant bone of contention with the woman.
“This is the first I am hearin’ of this.” He ran a hand over his face, and tried to imagine what the pesky woman could possibly gain from such disappearances. . “If she’s fine, why are ye here?”
“It’s about Miss Collins?—”
Hername chafed his skin. He now knew what she felt and tasted like. In that one brief encounter, he had accumulated more intelligence than a man who had dedicated years to a study. Then, like a foolish man faced with the culmination of years of hard work, he balked and abandoned her.
“Matters about Miss Collins should be attended to by me maither or Amber,” he said gruffly.
“That’s the problem, yer maither cannae be found, and Mrs. Thomson has fallen ill and retired.”
He wanted to send the maid away. Cohen was less busy at the moment; Jenson was always idle. They could handle Talia, but he knew the consequences of relinquishing her to men she was not so familiar with. If he were in her shoes, he would take offense.
He had to resolve the matter himself. If whatever she needed required them to stand face to face, he must not kiss her. Again.
“What’s the matter with her?”
“One of her suitors has come to call on her, and she doesnae have a chaperone with her.”
He rose abruptly.
That difficult woman!
Was she alone with her suitor, without the protection of a chaperone?
“Where is Miss Collins right now?”
“With her suitor in the morning room.”
14
Talia placed a hand on his chest. She could hear it now—her fingers rose and fell—his erratic heartbeat, his sharp intakes of breath. With pupils focused and lips barely parted, it was not obvious that he was arrested by the tremors that blighted a man on the brink of passion. His breathing carried over the gush of the fountain, soft at first, like an infinitesimal whisper, then it grew labored.
It was horrifying, a man unfettered by the charms of a sex whose power stemmed from titillation. It was even more horrifying how a man masqueraded as something he was not with such efficiency.
If she wasn’t used to his deception, if she hadn’t been so hesitant, she would never have seen through him. Rather than feel intimidated by the obvious gap in experience, she felt emboldened.
An experiment was what she needed. It had been a day after her meeting with Amber, and the ominous word ‘love’ floated in her head with the ease of a bird and the heaviness of a buoy.
She could not love Darragh, and she did not love him, so what was the justification for why that kiss was so mind-boggling that it consumed her both duringandafter the act? Physical attraction.
