“That surprises you?”
“Well yes. I know you fear inviting gossip and ruining your reputation.”
She was quiet for a while, her body swaying ever so slightly in response to the carriage’s jostling movements. “It occurred to me that spending the day alone with you was too appealing to be ignored, that any potential gossip about us would not damage my reputation more than the gossip about me being a social-climbing schemer already has.”
“I think you’re probably right.”
“We’ll see. Privacy has always mattered to me. I never liked being the center of attention, but after marrying Peter, all of that changed, and not in a good way.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “Thetoncan be so unbearably vicious.”
“Is that why you stayed away from social events?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “I had other priorities and little desire to meet the people who love to think the worst of me.”
“The Huntleys got through it and so did my brother. If you want to, you can get through it as well.”
“That’s just it,” she said. “I do not think I care to make the effort.”
He wasn’t sure he would either if he were in her shoes, because he could see thetonas she saw them, a group of arrogant judges perched upon pedestals and pointing fingers at those below. “I’m sorry I’m one of them,” he said, wishing for the first time in his life that he was an ordinary man with no titles to inherit and no fortune to his name.
“You’re not.” Her words drifted toward him like mist carried forward on a breeze. “You are entirely different, Henry, which is one of the reasons why I like you as much as I do.”
A powerful need for added closeness overcame him and he could resist no longer. He had to have her beside him, so he shifted sideways and held out his hand. “Come here, Viola.”
Her lips parted and time seemed to slow to a halt until, to Henry’s immense relief, she reached out across the space between them. The moment her fingers closed around his, he held her steady until she sank down beside him, at which point he wound his arm around her shoulders and pulled her snugly against him.
Her hand fell against his thigh and Henry went still. “Viola.” He could scarcely utter a word on account of the pleasure, the need, the desire for more. She must have believed that he disapproved her touching him so, for she started to pull away. “Don’t move,” he managed to say in what sounded more like a growl.
She froze, paused for a second and then relaxed back into his arms.
Henry took a deep breath and prayed for resilience. “I like your hand there,” he muttered, because the last thing he wanted was to make her feel unsure. “It was just unexpected, that’s all.”
“I was trying to steady myself,” she said.
Her fingers flexed against him as she repositioned her hand, causing flashes of heat to dart up his leg and straight to his groin. Caught between pain and pleasure, Henry closed his eyes and breathed in her scent. Lavender and starch as usual. Fresh and clean and incredibly enticing.
She shifted her weight, pulling slightly away. Henry opened his eyes and saw she was angled toward him, leaning forward, watching him closely. “May I kiss you?” she asked.
All hope of dampening his ardor evaporated in response to that simple question as need, urgent and fierce and full of devil-may-care intentions, assailed every cell in his body. “You don’t ever have to ask for permission to do so, Viola.”
Her gaze dropped to his lips and Henry held himself utterly still. Nothing existed for him in this moment except for Viola. It was as if his entire being hinged on what she did next.
Slowly, as if she’d learned the art of seduction from Aphrodite herself, she closed the distance between them and sighed against his mouth. Restraint abandoned Henry in a heartbeat and he crushed her to him, cradling her head in the palm of his hand while kissing her back. He no longer cared that his body responded the way it ought when she pressed her hand into his thigh or that she gasped when the blatant proof of his fierce desire brushed her wrist moments later.
He wanted her and he would not pretend otherwise. She was not an innocent, but a woman who knew what it was to be bedded. She was also a woman with professional knowledge of the human body, so rather than break the kiss and offer an apology, he kissed her with greater fervor, until nothing else existed besides her and the pleasure he felt from holding her close in his arms.
Her lips moved to place small sweet caresses against the edge of his mouth. Her breath tickled his jaw and her cheek came to rest against his. “This feels so right,” she whispered. “More right than I ever imagined it would.”
His heart swelled with contentment as he drew her head down to rest against his shoulder. “I hope this day lasts forever,” he told her softly.
She snuggled closer, taking just as much comfort from him as he took from her. “Me too.”
Savoring her warmth and closeness, Henry leaned back and stretched out his legs. When he felt her breaths ease and her body relax, he closed his eyes with a smile and allowed the gentle sway of the carriage to lull him to sleep as well.
She awoke as if called back to life from a faraway place. Something pressed against her arm. “Viola?” Henry’s voice was gentle but firm. “We have arrived.”
A wet tongue licked her hand and she opened her eyes to find Rex’s head in her lap. Blinking, she realized she was half lying, half sitting in a somewhat awkward position and that Henry was leaning slightly against her.
“I’m awake,” she murmured, and pushed her palm down on the bench in an effort to right her sprawling body. Except it wasn’t the bench at all that she touched, but something else entirely—something that gave way beneath her weight in a way that made her think of kissing. She gasped and pulled away, aware that she’d placed her entire hand directly on Henry’s thigh. Again.
