She stood, a wry look on her face. “Especially if that gallantry includes undressing a woman?”
“I aspire to nobility and grace,” he said. Her eyes were deep, chocolate brown, and he could gaze into them forever. As if he could tip forward and dive into her, never to surface again. “I’m glad you recovered so quickly.”
“I’m grateful for you—your entire family—for including me on this. I hadn’t any thoughts about mountains two months ago, but now, I feel as if I’ll die if I don’t try to climb one.”
A breeze picked up, pushing loose strands of her dark hair into her face. She was so beautiful, and he could feel her passion and commitment mirroring his own. It was all the softness she wore on her exterior that he felt on the inside. He reached up and gently brushed her hair back, tucking the wayward strands around her ear.
“Tristan,” she said, looking up at him as if she were beckoning him into her depths.
Instead of letting his hand drop, he cupped her jaw, pulling her slowly to him, giving her the chance to escape, if she so chose. But she didn’t. Her hand touched his chest, over his heart. If she wanted to pull it out and keep it, he would let her, if only she would allow him to kiss her.
“Eleanor,” he said, waiting for her to say something—anything—to make him stop. But she didn’t.
She stood on her tiptoes, and he pulled her close, his lips brushing hers, gentle, ever so gentle. Lowering herself to the ground, she pulled away, but he didn’t want to be finished. If this line was to be crossed, that could not be the end of their kiss. He followed her, wrapping his other hand around the back of her neck, pressing his lips to hers once more.
This time she softened against him, and he kissed her more ardently. She must know how often he thought of her, and how else could he show her than by kissing her dizzy? He deepened the kiss, and she did the same. She reached her arms around his neck, making him wrap his arms around her waist, pressing his body fully against hers. He felt as if time stopped here, giving him the chance to experience a heaven available only to him.
Despite the exhaustion of the week, his body went tense, wanting more than he would ever take from a respectable young lady in the middle of rolling pastures and isolated copses of trees. Still, she was so soft in his arms. The skin on her arms was like satin, her lips were sweet, and he was happy that both of their scents were only those of hard work and mud.
She pulled away from him, and he felt dizzy himself. An early afternoon drizzle had descended, but Tristan hadn’t noticed the raindrops. He was lost in her lips and her skin and her hair.
“It’s raining,” she said.
He couldn’t speak. While he’d imagined this kiss, he’d thought it would be akin to his prior encounters—breathless, passionate, yes, but lusty. This had been different—unlike the other kisses he’d ever committed to—and he didn’t know what that meant. She wouldn’t look him in the eye, and that didn’t sit well. “Eleanor.”
There was her attention. Her lips swollen from his. “Yes?”
His mouth opened and closed as he tried to think of what he should say. “Should I apologize? Because I don’t want to.”
Her cheeks flushed even higher, but she shook her head. “It was very nice.”
That was a blow to his ego. Dogs were nice. An egg sandwich wasnice. If there had ever been a rebuff, he knew it. “I see.”
Perhaps she heard his bitterness. “I rather liked it,” she added, looking up at him through her lashes.
That felt a bit better. “Would you permit me to kiss you again?”
A smile played on those imminently kissable lips. “As long as we don’t take too long getting back to camp.”
He sidled closer to her, moving slowly so as not to spook her. “You are known to be very slow.” He closed his arms around her, and she laid her cheek against his chest, letting out a content-sounding sigh. She felt so good in his arms. So right. He let go of her on one side to tip her chin up, so that he might kiss her again.
One of her arms snaked up to pull him down to her. She took more command this time, kissing him as much as he kissed her. Sipping at him, pressing kisses. Then his impatience got the better of him and he let his tongue wend its way out of his mouth and into hers.
Another breeze kicked up and she shuddered against him, allowing him into her mouth. It was heaven. She was heaven. He rubbed her back, telling himself to keep his hands above herwaist, even though he desperately wanted to cup her bottom and pull her against him.
Suddenly she launched herself backwards, and he heard it, too. Someone was coming. He heard Ophelia’s laughter. They were all coming. Eleanor’s eyes were wide with terror. She shooed at him, and so he did the only thing he could think to do: he took off running.
He was well out of sight before they broke into the clearing. They greeted Eleanor, and then he was out of earshot, heart pounding. What did he just do?
There was no fraternization on the expedition. That was a hard and fast rule, one that they had all agreed upon ages ago, back when Ophelia had proposed this expedition. That no matter what, they would maintain propriety.
And she was the daughter of a ship’s captain. Even a second son of a viscount should be more circumspect, shouldn’t he? Clearly, the best course of action was to pretend this never happened. To forget the softness of her lips, the way her body melted into his. This was going to be hell.
Chapter Seven
Her lips throbbedas she concentrated on looking at the pond, desperately hoping that the light breeze would cool the heat in her face. What was she thinking kissing Tristan? Oh, she was thinking about how handsome he was, how kind he’d been, and how he looked at her as if she were the entire world.
No one had ever looked at her like that—like shemattered. Not only could he see her, that she was physically in front of him—which, honestly, was not always the case in her experience—but he seemed to understand her. She wasn’t born to a family of physical women, or adventurous ones. But he could see her try, and he accepted that effort.
