Ridiculous.
“It must be such an adjustment,” she whispered as she moved to stand before him.
He returned his focus to her, telling himself that she couldn’t possibly understand.
“One day you’re enjoying all life has to offer and the next you’ve lost everything—everyone—important to you.” She frowned, her expression barely visible in the dim light. “To be handed those responsibilities and know hundreds of people depend upon you for their livelihoods. They expect you to know what is best when perhaps you have no idea.”
He stared at her in surprise. That she could have an inkling of understanding about how he felt and made the effort to share it with him when his best friend didn’t seem to have a clue shocked him.
“Thank you,” he said.
“For what?” She lifted one brow, the movement managing to make her look even more elegant and beautiful. And wise beyond her years. Was it any wonder he forgot their age difference?
“For understanding.” He pressed his fingers against his chest at the dull ache there. The one that had lodged deep within him since losing his family. “Few do.”
She reached for his hand and held it tight between her gloved ones.
Then she lifted onto her toes, cupped his cheek, and pressed her lips to his, shocking him yet again.
He must’ve bent to meet her lips because otherwise, her smaller stature wouldn’t permit the kiss.Heshouldn’t have permitted it. But the moment their lips met all his good intentions were swept away. How had he thought he could stay away from her?
She tasted so sweet. He feared she’d ruined him for any other. But she also was innocent, evidenced by the hesitation of her movements.
Damn if that didn’t appeal to him. He wanted to be the one to teach her how to please a man. And he wanted to be the one who pleased her in return.
She eased closer. He gripped her waist and drew her against him, surprised by how right she felt. When she wrapped her arms around his neck, he kissed her more deeply even as he breathed in her sweet scent.
At her soft sigh, he lowered his hands to her rounded bottom, loving the feel of it despite the small bustle of her gown. The movement brought her firmly against his lower body and desire surged.
He gave a muffled groan as he broke the kiss. He should be appalled by his behavior. Eliza had offered understanding and he’d repaid that kindness with passion. Yet he didn’t regret it. Not when she was still in his arms.
The faint sound of the orchestra reached him, reminding him of where they were. And that at any moment, they might be caught. He couldn’t bring himself to care. All his arguments about why she wasn’t for him dropped away. She felt perfect in his arms. He should release her, but first he wanted—needed—one more kiss.
He gently took her mouth with his, wanting to show her how much he appreciated her. When a hint of a moan escaped her lips, it lit the tinder already burning inside him.
Then suddenly she pulled back, her chest heaving as her gaze held on him, eyes wide with surprise. “I must return inside. My aunt will be wondering what’s become of me.”
She glanced over her shoulder, then back at him, and was gone in the next moment.
He blew out a breath as he struggled to understand what had just happened. And why it was Eliza who ignited his passion like no other.
Eliza ran around the side of Covington House to the side door from which she’d previously escaped as fast as she could manage. That was no easy feat in a ball gown. The reminder of what she wore had her loosening her grip on the skirts, realizing too late that she’d no doubt crushed them in her rush.
Aunt Frieda would take one look at the wrinkles and lecture her on how costly the fabric was and how she should take better care.
When she and her aunt had entered the ballroom, and she’d hadn’t recognized anyone, panic had taken hold. Aunt Frieda had started to remark about the “distasteful” décor and suddenly, Eliza had needed a moment alone to gather her resolve. She told her aunt she saw a friend with whom she wanted to speak. Now she was fiercely glad she had, for it had given her time with Philip.
Those precious minutes with him had been worth every wrinkle in her skirts. The taste of him lingered on her lips. Her emotions spun from the passion they’d shared. She tingled from head to toe from the encounter. Surely what she felt in his arms was special. Unique.
The moment she’d seen him standing on the terrace with that stricken look upon his face, she’d been compelled to try to help. He’d looked so alone, as if grief might overcome him. Kissing him hadn’t been planned but had come naturally when she’d tried to think of a way to comfort him. To lend support and let him know he wasn’t alone, much like he’d done for her when her parents died.
The way she felt in his arms only made her more convinced that they were meant to be together. Did he feel that as well? Time would tell.
She stepped into the narrow, empty hallway that connected the card rooms and the ballroom, pausing to catch her breath and attempt to smooth the fabric of her gown.
Her effort made little difference. She needed a damp cloth to press against the wrinkles if she wanted to reduce them. Perhaps she could find a maid in the retiring room to aid her.
She smoothed her expression and walked quickly down the hall in search of the room only to bump into Markus Carstairs, Viscount Delbert, Philip’s cousin, who was exiting the card room.
