“I shall do no such thing,” Mary told Cassandra's back.
Her friend merely laughed while she hurried off, leaving Mary alone in the kitchen with a tea tray in her hands. Sighing, she walked back to the parlor, took a deep breath, and opened the door.
“What happened to Miss Howard and Lady Cassandra?” Mr. Crawford asked when it became clear that the two would not be joining them.
“They're being held for treason,” she said and set the tray on the table before him.
He grinned. “Indeed. On what grounds, if I may ask?”
Picking up the teapot, Mary proceeded to pour Mr. Crawford a cup. “Conspiracy to cause a scandal.”
“How intriguing.” He sipped his tea while she filled a cup for herself. “What sort of scandal are we talking about exactly?”
“What do you think?” Her voice was testier than she'd intended, and her hand shook because of her over strained nerves, causing her to spill a few drops.
“I'm hoping it's the sort that will give me the chance to kiss you.”
Her head shot up, her gaze locking with his. “Mr. Crawford!” Good grief, her face was probably hot enough to roast a chicken if she stood close enough to it.
The cheeky man simply smiled with all the rakish charm in the world. “Tell me you haven't thought about it, and I shall apologize straight away for offending your sensibilities.”
Mary swallowed. Rendered speechless and completely immobile, she searched her mind for an appropriate response. And failed, because to deny it would be dishonest, and she wasn't a liar.
Mr. Crawford's smile broadened with understanding. He patted the spot beside him on the sofa. “Come sit with me, Miss Clemens, and let us enjoy our tea.”
Mary eyed him warily. The way his eyes glittered when he said, “Let us enjoy our tea,” made her wonder if it might be a euphemism for something else.
In a way she hoped so, but at the same time she feared for her heart. And yet, if it were a choice between one kiss with Mr. Crawford and no kiss at all, would it not be better to know what it was to enjoy such intimacy with him—if only one time?
Making her choice, Mary picked up her cup and went to sit beside him. She took a long sip of her tea, savoring the soothing effect of the hot liquid as it slid down her throat and warmed her insides.
“I'm afraid of where this will lead,” she confessed when he took her cup from her trembling hands and set it aside. But the real truth was she feared where it wouldn't lead because he had no intention of staying.
“Where would you like for it to lead?” he asked as he raised her hand to his lips and proceeded to kiss every knuckle.
“I...” Her breath caught as sensation took hold, scorching her skin in the best way possible. “I’m not sure.”
“Mary,” he said, the unexpected use of her given name forging a closeness she'd never experienced with anyone else before. “There are things I must tell you – things about me you're not going to like.”
“Such as?”
He stared down at their joined hands. “I'm not who you think me to be.”
She'd no idea what he was talking about, but it certainly wasn't getting her that kiss she now wanted more desperately than she did her next breath.
So she twisted around in her seat and faced him.
Leaning in, she raised her hand to his cheek. “You're a kind, thoughtful, hardworking man, Mr. Crawford. Whatever you may have done before I met you, please know that it will have no bearing on my high regard for you.”
“I could be a criminal,” he warned.
She smiled and shook her head with conviction. “That's impossible.”
But maybe he had a fiancée he’d promised himself to. If that were the case, she didn't want to know, because once she did, she would have to walk away and never look back. And since that wasn't what she wanted to do, she closed the space between them and pressed her lips to his.
Stunned by her unexpected forwardness, which had in effect prevented him from confessing, Caleb sat completely immobile for a moment while options and their potential outcome played out in his head. But then her mouth moved against his, and whatever hope there had been of easing her away and insisting she listen to him first was outweighed by the need to reciprocate.
So he wound his arms around her and pulled her roughly against him, using her stunned little gasp to deepen the kiss in the most provocative way. Groaning in response, he pressed his hand against her back and held her to him. Her mouth was sweet and delicious, her body so soft and pliable it threatened to make him go mad. Hell, he was half mad already, the feel of her fingers threading through his hair inciting a want beyond any he’d ever experienced before. It brought every wicked fantasy he’d had about her these past few weeks into sharp focus.
