“Would you have come if I had worded it differently? If you’d known you might be entering a parson’s mousetrap?”
“Or a vicar’s daughter’s trap in this case,” he quipped.
“Just so.”
“I probably would have come anyway out of sheer curiosity as to how a well-connected, politely raised young woman could think this to be a good idea.”
She lifted a shoulder in a shrug, watching his eyes flicker to the décolletage of her bodice.
“You sent me a bold invitation,” she reminded him, recalling how she’d felt upon reading his missive. “It was entirely inappropriate. An offer that I could not possibly agree to. Basically, you invited me to your home for a romp.”
He spluttered wine through his teeth and, leaning forward, began to cough. After a couple seconds, Julia moved closer and pounded his back until he held up his hand. Then he reached into his pocket and withdrew a handkerchief with which he wiped his mouth and the end of his nose. Lastly, he glanced down at his charcoal gray breeches and dabbed at them, although she couldn’t see any spots of claret.
“Am I wrong?” she demanded when he finally looked at her after setting his glass upon the low table.
After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “No,” with the grace to look sheepish.
“I thought not. I decided to show you how such an invitation could be handled more elegantly, and if my missive had been read by anyone else, he or she would never guess we were to dine alone. Just as you didn’t.”
“Indeed, you have shown me how it can be done,” he agreed. “And now we are alone in your sister’s drawing room. What next?”
She sipped her wine, feeling more adventurous than she ever had in her entire life, and she’d had more than her own fair share of escapades recently.
“I suppose we have a civilized chat and then dine together on what will be absolutely delicious fare if I know my sister’s cook. And then...,” she trailed off.
“And then?” He reached out and took her nearly empty glass from her. Outrageously, he tilted his head back and drank the last few drops before setting the glass down.
When he put a gentle hand on her forearm, the warmth of his fingers made her stomach do a thrilled little jig.
Julia couldn’t speak. She could only watch as he drew her steadily closer, and then close her eyes when he lowered his mouth to hers. Ever so slowly. Nothing quick, nothing to jar or scare her. Simply his familiar lips firmly touching her own, tasting of wine. His other hand came to rest on her shoulder, turning her to face him more squarely.
With sensation winging from one part of her body to the next, Julia placed her hands on his chest, feeling the fine wool of his suit followed by the slippery silk of his cravat between her fingers as she explored.
Cocking his head, the earl slanted his mouth expertly across hers, and their connection was complete.
“Mm,”she sighed before feeling the tip of his tongue touch the seam of her lips. She didn’t feign surprise. She knew about this open-mouthed kissing, and fearlessly parted to admit him.
The first touch of his tongue against her own did, in fact, shock her. It was hot and arousing and hinted of other intimacies to come. Exploring her mouth, ever so slightly he sucked her tongue, and she shivered. His hands tightened upon her.
When he drew back, she leaned toward him as if she would follow his kiss to the ends of the earth. Opening her eyes and looking into his, Julia recalled her surroundings. The dark passion swirling in the rich umber of the earl’s gaze was a little frightening. He had gone places she most certainly had not.
But now she longed to do so — with him!
“You are very good at kissing,” she said.
His eyes widened for the briefest moment, and then he leaned back, away from her, making her do the same if she wasn’t to feel an eager fool.
“I am, aren’t I?” he agreed, sounding smug.
At the same time, Julia was relieved not to detect a smirk upon his face.
Then he cocked his head. “But how can you judge my kiss unless you’ve had a few yourself?”
“That does not signify, sir. Even if I’d never had a hunk of freshly baked bread, warm from the oven and buttered within an inch of its life, that would hardly mean I couldn’t pass judgement on the deliciousness of a loaf, nor take in all that made it good — its aroma, its softness, and its taste.
He stared at her. “Miss Sudbury, you are unique.”
She hoped it was a nice uniqueness and not an off-putting one.
