She pressed closer to him as they walked, and he slid his free arm around her waist.
“Don’t you wonder where I’m taking you?”
“I’d follow you anywhere.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Though people may talk.”
“Of course they will.” She looked up at him, feeling freer than she had in years. “They already talk about me. I’m a siren in some people’s eyes.”
“You are a siren.” His voice had dropped to that husky murmur that made her shiver.
“Over here there’s a bit of privacy.” A few more steps and they were in an old apple orchard with trees covered in apple blossoms. The scent was almost as heady as the spice and orange of his shaving soap.
“Why do we need privacy?” he asked her.
Tess stopped when they were far enough in to be unseen and stepped close to him, a hand on his chest. She pushed gently and he immediately understood and backed himself up against the wide trunk of a tree.
She leaned into him, let him take her weight, and he lashed an arm around her waist to pull her flush against him. Tipping her head, she studied his face in the moonlight.
He seemed almost pained, tense, waiting for what came next.
“Tess,” he murmured, sliding his hand down to her lower back, then hesitating.
He was allowing her to guide him, to lead, and it seemed to cost him as his breath gusted fast against her skin.
Skimming her hand up his chest, she relished the heat of him, the hard muscles, the thrum of his heartbeat. Then she curled her hand around his nape and arched up to kiss him.
He groaned at the first taste, growled as she stroked her tongue against his.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a week,” she whispered against his mouth.
“Same.” He took her mouth, cupped her backside and pulled her closer, letting her feel how hard and eager he was for her. “Every damn night, I dream of you,” he admitted breathlessly. He took her lower lip between his teeth, then soothed the spot with his tongue.
Tess bucked against him, shocking herself into pulling back.
“Tess,” he groaned when she pulled away. He then ran a hand across his mouth and studied her in the moonlight. “Does this mean I’ve grown in your estimation? That you’ve finally decided I’m not a scoundrel?”
“Oh, I know you’re a scoundrel,” she teased with a smile, “but you’re a kind one. An honest one.”
“You’ve asked me for that, and I won’t ever lie to you, Tess.”
“Thank you.”
He bent his head to kiss her again, but she stayed him with a hand against the hard plane of his muscled chest.
“Though I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive you for what you did to those books at Lady Goddard’s.”
He hung his head and slumped his shoulders a moment before offering her a contrite look—or as contrite as a man like him could manage after she’d just divulged how much she wanted him.
“I was in a foul mood that day.”
“Why? You seemed quite jovial.” An image came to her of that moment when he’d descended the stairs in Lady Goddard’s library and then shamelessly flirted with her.
“If I seemed anything other than grumpish, it was because you’d walked into the room.”
“You needn’t charm me.” Tess pushed gently against him again. “Tell me why you were in a foul mood.”
She watched as he seemed to weigh what to say, or how much to divulge, even as he’d just vowed to tell her the truth.
“Lady Goddard had... propositioned me previously.”
