Perhaps it did.
She returned the kiss in equal measure, sounding a faint moan of relief as if she had been starving for such intimacy.
Perhaps she had.
When his tongue delved into her mouth, sliding over her teeth and tangling with hers, a low groan vibrated in his chest. Ivy could feel it through her day gown and into her bosom, into her middle and down to her toes. She lifted a hand to theside of his head, her fingertips threading through his short hair as her nails scraped his scalp.
The groan turned into a low growl, which only encouraged her to use her other hand to do the same on the other side of his head. She delighted in the feel of his hair, the dark silky strands near his temples mixed with coarser grays, the shorter hairs at his neck softer.
Moving a hand to the side of his face, Ivy realized he might have shaved that morning, but the signs of his dark beard were evident on his otherwise smooth cheeks. The scent of his citrusy cologne wafted across her nostrils.
A moment later his tongue retreated and he softened the kiss. Ivy purred and relaxed into his hold. She had always preferred the less frantic kisses and the way his hand smoothed up and down her back, its warmth permeating the muslin of her day gown. She couldn’t help but inhale sharply when his wandering hand moved to her side and his thumb brushed the side of her breast, briefly interrupting the kiss.
He managed to recapture her lips, though, breaking off the soft chuckle that she could feel more than hear. In response, she slid a hand to just below one of his ears and captured his earlobe between her thumb and the the side of her forefinger. She gently tugged on it before smoothing her thumb along the tender skin.
This time, it was he who had to break off the kiss to inhale sharply, his whispered, “Minx,” sounding loud in her ears.
He continued to kiss her as if he was making up for all the years they hadn’t done this.
Perhaps he was.
At some point, either Perkins or Graves had come to the dining room to collect their plates, but neither Robert nor Ivy acknowledged the gasp of embarrassment or the murmured, “Pardon me,” as the servant scurried back to the butler’s pantry.
When he finally released her lips, their shared expressions of surprise and embarrassment turned into tentative grins. Robert allowed a long sigh. “I could not help it,” he said, as if he was apologizing for having kissed her. “After what happened on the Yule log, I wanted to kiss you again. Wanted to kiss you the moment I found you in my bed last night,” he admitted.
Ivy purred. “Is that all?” She grinned. “At least you knew it was me and not a dream,” she added in a tease.
His silver-blue eyes seemed to darken in response. “You know it is not,” he whispered.
Ivy’s face, already flushed with color, seemed to redden even more. “Well, you’ll have me, I promise. But not until after the dancing is done,” she replied, her own eyes darkening as if in warning.
“So… I can’t have you right now? For dessert?” he asked meekly, glancing at the table. “Right here?”
Ivy blinked. “Robert,” she scolded. She glanced towards the butler’s pantry and then to the door. Although she didn’t exactly have a plan, she thought to move to the end of the table and lift her skirts when Graves suddenly appeared at the door.
“Pardon me, my lord. My lady,” he said, obviously surprised to find them standing. “The servants have finished their meal, the refreshment table has been set, and the piano-forté has been uncovered.”
Robert made a sound of frustration. “We haven’t eaten any of the fruitcake,” he complained, although from the way he said it, Ivy knew he meant something entirely different.
“We’ll be there in a moment, Graves,” she said. “But could you bring the fruitcake and set it at the refreshment table? I’d like to share it with everyone.”
“Of course, my lady,” Graves answered nervously, moving to do her bidding.
Ivy tugged on Robert’s hand. “Come, darling,” she whispered.
“My coat is in my study,” he said, leading them there first. “Am I going to have to give a speech again?”
She paused on the threshold. “Well, you could remind them they don’t have to work on Boxing Day,” she suggested. “And that they should keep their champagne consumption to no more than two glasses.” She helped him with his top coat and buttoned it.
Robert scoffed. “Champagne?” he repeated in surprise. “You... you brought champagne? For the servants?”
Ivy nodded. “A few bottles. You brought port,” she accused. When he rolled his eyes, she tittered. “Oh, it’s nearly Christmas, Robert,” she reminded him. “And tonight, we are celebrating.”
He seemed to pout for a moment before he asked, “Will I get an orange?”
Ivy grinned as they made their way into the decorated hall. “I’ll see to it you have two,” she replied happily.
