Lying on Eamon’s chest, feeling his body shaking with mirth, released something in Caro. Nothing mattered in this instant but the silliness they’d engaged in, and the knowledge that Eamon had caught her as he’d promised.
It felt only natural to kiss him.
Their laughter abruptly ceased as Eamon’s arms came around her. The hall went still, the only sound the rumble of carriages outside the high windows and the rushing in Caro’s ears.
The giddy passion that had swept through her in the small room in Portman Square returned as she deepened the kiss, tasting his mouth. Their tongues tangled, Caro’s need, too long suppressed, breaking forth.
She surrendered to it. She traced Eamon’s face with shaking fingers, skimmed them through his thick hair. His heart banged beneath hers, and their legs were entwined as they’d fallen, only the clothes between them keeping things decorous. Caro felt the strength in his thighs, and the hardness that meant he was as aroused as she was.
There was no chance of fulfilling their longings in the middle of the gallery’s landing, but wicked ideas formed in Caro’s head of how it might be done.
For now, they were gloriously alone. She would hear Singleton or Leo returning from below stairs in plenty of time to avoid disgrace, and the dowager rarely descended below the fourth floor.
Caro could lie here and kiss Eamon as long as she liked, for no other reason than she enjoyed it.
Eamon skimmed his hands up her body and caressed her neck, loosening her already straggling hair. He nipped at her tongue, smiling when she pretended to elude him, then tugged her back down for a deeper kiss.
When their lips eased apart again, Eamon traced her cheek.
“You are beautiful, my duchess.”
“I am a mess.” Caro touched his face, liking the rough bristles that brushed her fingertips. “I’ve never been tidy, as a girl or a matron.”
“You don’t need to be.” Eamon kissed a dangling lock. “Beauty doesn’t come from neatness. It comes from here.” He placed his hand between her breasts, right over her thumping heart. “It beams from you, Caro.”
“You are very flattering.” Caro let herself be bold. “And quite handsome, if you must know.”
“Ah, she approves of me.” Eamon kept his hand where it was. “The time I spend at my toilette has repaid me.”
“Don’t be silly. You are hardly a dandy. Not immaculately coiffed and in a suit that barely lets you move, thank heavens.” Caro drew her fingers over Eamon’s lips, their smooth contrast to his whiskery face pleasing. “I prefer a person to look like who they truly are.”
“I could look like no other than myself,” Eamon said softly.
“I am glad.” Caro kissed the tip of his nose. “I prefer you exactly as you appear, Mr. Eamon Stone. Truly handsome, and more kindhearted than you know.”
Eamon stilled, something darkening in his eyes.
“Oh, Duchess,” he said softly. “I believe I’m falling in love with you.”
Caro jerked in surprise, and she drew a sharp breath. “In love …”
The words shocked her at the same time they bathed her in incredible joy. To have such a man look at her with heat in his eyes and declare that he loved her …
She had no idea what to say or do. Caro could only stare at him in stunned silence, unable to form words to respond.
Eamon went rigid under her, a scowl obliterating his warmth. “Damnation.” He heaved himself out from under Caro, pulling her to her feet at the same time he rolled to his. “Damn it all to hell.”
Caro parted her lips to apologize, or whatever she ought to say, but Eamon advanced on her swiftly, quieting her with a fierce, hard kiss.
The kiss bruised, commanded. Caro sought breath and couldn’t find it, but it didn’t matter. The kiss shattered her, even more than his declaration had, her body on fire.
Eamon broke the kiss as abruptly as he began it. He fixed her with a hard gaze for a long moment before he turned away and stormed down the stairs. Singleton had hung his things in the lower hall, and Caro watched over the banisters as Eamon snatched these up and disappeared into the foyer, shrugging on his coat.
She hurried to the front window of the gallery, reaching it in time to see Eamon burst out of the house and tramp away, settling his coat and clapping on his hat as he went. He moved northward around the square, soon lost to sight behind trees, carts, and wagons.
Caro hung onto the windowsill and watched him go, the tear in her heart growing wider with every one of his strides.
Chapter 18
