“I understand your sister is feeling better,” he said.
“Her fever did break. And the doctor seems very certain that she'll recover fully.”
Tristan nodded. “That is excellent news. You didn't get much sleep, I understand.” He gestured to her dress. “You're still wearing your gown.”
“Oh, goodness, yes, I am.” She looked suddenly abashed. “Marigold started feeling poorly almost the moment we cameupstairs last night, and I stayed with her, just hoping she'd fall asleep. But then a fever came and she tossed and turned.”
“But you’ve had a nap and feel better?”
She reached out her hand. “I’d feel better if you come sit with me.”
Oh, she was temptation. So sweet and utterly irresistible.
When he hesitated, she ached her eyebrow, almost in challenge.
He reached for her hand and settled on the bed beside her, his hip against her thigh.
“I know this is very improper,” she whispered.
“Oh, yes, we've crossed the border of improper and gone straight into the land of scandal.”
She laughed. “Well, it's not a scandal if no one knows you're here. No one will come to my door. Marigold's the only one who bursts in without knocking, and she won't be doing that.”
Sitting up in bed, she used her other hand to trace her fingertips up his arm, along his shirt sleeve, all the way up to the ridge of his shoulders.
Did she have any notion what she did to him?
His body ached from the most innocent of strokes against his clothing.
She licked her lips and leaned closer, then brushed her fingers up his neck, sliding gently over the curve of his ear. It made him shiver and stifle a groan. Then her fingers were in his hair.
If she didn’t stop, he would take her right here on her bed in the middle of the day with the house full of guests.
He took her hand in his, lifting it to kiss her palm, then her knuckles, flicking his tongue out to taste her skin. Then he lowered his mouth to wrist, stroking his tongue against her pulse.
She gasped and he couldn’t resist grazing his teeth against the spot.
“You taste delicious,” he murmured.
At his words, she let out the sharpest inhale, and the sound went straight to his cock.
“I think,” he said, then nipped her tender skin again. “I should speak to your brother-in-law immediately.”
“Tristan,” she breathed, all but panting as he was. “Are you certain? We have spent so little time together.”
“Yes, my temptress, and that is the dilemma, isn't it? I want to spend time with you. I want to talk to you for hours, and…” He licked his lips, flicking his gaze to her mouth. “When I said last night that this is dangerous, I didn't mean because of scandal or what other people might think.”
He bent closer, cupped her cheek, traced the soft edge of her jaw. “I feel very…fiercely about you, Hyacinth. I think of you. All the time. I can't seem to get you out of my head. No matter what I'm doing, I imagine you there. This morning in my laboratory. Last night in my bed.”
“Oh, Tristan.” She scooted closer, and tucked herself against him.
He wrapped her in his arms, and laid a kiss against her hair. He traced his hand up and down her back, feeling her melt against him, and it was the happiest he’d felt in a long while. Just the simple bliss of holding her.
“Unless we do want to cause a scandal, I should speak to your brother-in-law.”
She lifted her head and grinned up at him. “My sister says she's going to speak to you too.”
“Oh, yes?”
