“I haven’t,” he affirmed.“Although, I would like to do it again with you.That is… if you’re of a mind to be kissed again.”
Torn between running back to the ballroom or holding her ground and engaging in a second kiss with the spare heir, Helen closed the distance between them, gripped a lapel in one gloved hand, and pressed her lips to his.
She wasn’t expecting one of his arms to encircle her waist, but she was glad for the support.Glad for the warmth the front of his body provided for the front of hers.Glad that their second kiss was at least as pleasant and pleasing as their first.
Better, even, since neither paused with uncertainty at the beginning as they had with their initial kiss.
The ending, though, could have been so much better.Especially if Lady Devonville hadn’t called out Tom’s name from somewhere near the French doors.
“Apologies,” he said, annoyance apparent in his voice.
Helen blinked several times, stunned by how he jerked away from her.She nearly allowed a curse but immediately understood why he had ended it so abruptly when she heard his name called out by his grandmother a second time.“You’re forgiven,” she whispered.“Go.I’ll return to the ballroom in a moment.”
“Are you sure?”he asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.
“Of course,” she said, giving him a gentle shove to send him on his way.
“I look forward to seeing you again,” he said.He bowed and hurried off.
Holding her breath until she was forced to let it go, Helen dipped her face into the nearest rose and inhaled, allowing the heady floral aroma to replace the intoxicating scent of Thomas Forster.
She would not soon forget it, nor the kiss they had shared.
