“Thank him for us, please,” Ned said.
Us.They were anus.
He looked to Gemma. “Are you ready, then?”
“Yes.” She knew she sounded distracted, and yet, she sensed he understood.
The sun was setting as Gemma and Ned climbed into the coach. She was surprised that the day had grown so advanced. She’d lost all sense of time in the birthing room.
Everyone in Maidenshop knew this coach was new and Mr. Balfour’s pride and joy. Plush velvet covered the vehicle’s seats and walls. The quarters were also tight. There was no way for her leg not to brush against his, especially once the coach started moving . . . not that she was interested inpulling away. She looked down at their ungloved hands that were inches from each other.
He leaned back and closed his eyes. He had to be spent. Gemma understood the herculean effort he had made for his friends. It was a challenge to stay alert and aware by a bedside for hours on end. The labor had been difficult but also boring for those in attendance. Then there was always a moment of reckoning—one wrong move and they’d be mourning instead of rejoicing.
Excepthe’dguided them through.Hehad saved the baby and the mother.
And suddenly, all the common-sense objections to why she should keep her distance vanished.
Life was fragile. Fleeting.
Before she could process her actions, before she could tell herself to stop, Gemma leaned over and kissed him fully on the lips with all the passion in her being.
Chapter Eighteen
Gemma was kissing him.
Or was he dreaming?
Ned was exhausted. The nervous energy that had driven him for the past days had left him weary. At the same time, he was very aware of Gemma’s scent of lavender and spice. Or that his hand was close enough to hers that if he just moved his fingers he could touch her.
She’d come to him today. He’d needed her support. He’d trusted she wouldn’t panic, that she would help Kate through this and he’d not been disappointed.
Now, Gemma, who days before had rejected his love, was kissing him. A burst of energy sang through him.
He pulled her up into his lap, the better to be close to her. Her hands cupped his whiskered face. Their tongues met. The kiss deepened.
God, he could feel the heat of her.Shewanted him. He could have shouted his joy to the heavens, but he didn’t want this kiss to ever end. He wrapped his arms around her. She moved to straddle him.
Was he dreaming...?
His hand began searching for the hem of her skirts, pulling the material up her leg until he could feel the flesh of her thigh. She twisted the button of his breeches.
If this was a dream, it was averygood one.
There was no pause in her unbuttoning. There was nothing coy about her—and that was one of the things he realized he adored about her. She was direct, bold, and as hungry for him as he was for her. He cupped her bottom, feeling himself free of his breeches and strong and proud. It pushed between them. They were quiet, aware of the coachman.
Gemma shifted and then sank down on him.
Just like that. No preamble, no flowery phrases—she was perfect in every way.
The kiss broke.
She gave a shuddering sigh that he caught in his mouth, letting it echo through him. She was hot, tight. He kissed her gently, then deeper, then deeper. Slowly, matching the sway of the coach, he lifted his hips and moved in her.
The world centered on their joining. Ned kissed her lips, her chin, her throat. Gemma met him for every thrust—this was so bloody good. So satisfying in a way he’d never experienced before. She felt right.
He felt right being here with her.
Her muscles tightened. She held him.“Ned.”
