His fingers tightened over hers, and he gave her the most beautiful smile she had ever beheld on a man’s lips. “Ah, but being abed and alone is one of the true curses of this life. I could not remain there another moment.”
Abed and alone.
For some foolish, wild reason, she thought of joining him there. Of touching him freely and not merely with the intent to soothe, comfort, or heal. Of pressing her mouth to his. Of shedding her clothes and lying with him.
Shocking.
Sinful.
Wrong.
Delicious.
Tempting.
Dangerous.
He was staring at her, waiting, and she realized he had spoken last, but her foolish mind had been too preoccupied with listing words to describe this moment, this man. Oh, why had she been the one to find him, the one to heal him, the one to deceive him?
“You should not be here,” she said at last, hating herself for the breathlessness in her tone.
“Here feels like a deuced fine place to be.”
They stared at each other, the heat between them rising, a lone spark turning into a raging fire. The devil of it was, here felt like an awfully fine place to be for Caro as well.
She swallowed against a fervent rush of longing. “How did you find me?”
“I followed you.”
His confession took her by surprise. He was wilier than she had supposed, even without his memory. A formidable opponent, she had no doubt. And a man she had been lying to from the moment his eyes had fluttered open, confused and bloodshot.
“This morning?” she asked, trying to decipher when he had begun trailing her about The Sinner’s Palace.
Her stops had been many.
“You passed my door, and I followed. You went to the kitchens and emerged with a honey cake.”
So she had. Her eyes narrowed. “You have been following me for the entire morning?”
He cocked his head, studying her, hand still on hers, the touch strangely comforting. “I suppose I have been. You flit about like a butterfly, you do. Never staying in one place for long, flying just out of reach, and bright and beautiful.”
He thought her bright and beautiful?
Her breath caught. “I am not out of reach now.”
“No.” He was unsmiling, his gaze intent. “You aren’t.”
Duty and obligation warred with the desire burning to life within her. She knew she needed to persuade him to go back from whence he had come until she could speak with Jasper. That she should not enjoy his nearness, his touch. That she should be mopping up the spilled ink. And yet, she didn’t want to do anything she was supposed to just now.
Loyalty was a cold comfort. Still, she was a Sutton before she was anything else. And keeping Gavin a secret was important for his safety. Someone wanted him dead, she reminded herself.
She mustered up a protest. “You should return to your chamber—”
The rest of her words were stifled beneath his lips. His lips on hers. His mouth moved. It was warm, supple. He was kissing her. Lord in heaven, Gavin Winter waskissingher, and it was…
Wondrous.
She forgot about the ink which had been spilled. His hand left hers, his good arm sliding around her waist. She settled her palms on his shoulders, so large, radiating strength and reassurance. He smelled of shaving soap and clean linen, and no scent had ever been more inviting.
