At last, he said, ‘I can guess how you dealt with Melling. You threatened him with your aunt’s handbell, didn’t you?’
She caught her breath. There was a spark of mischief in his eyes and she found herself brimming with sudden, absurd happiness. ‘I only had to look at that bell,’ she said, ‘and he stormed off.’
He laughed. ‘That’s him sorted, then. Good for you. And Kate—we’re still friends, I hope?’
She felt a little deflated. For one magical night she had hoped they might be more, but she said, ‘Friends. Of course.’
He raised one eyebrow quizzically. ‘Then might I suggest another outing?’
Her wayward heart fluttered again. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Well, maybe not the opera this time—although I certainly deserve the punishment it would provide.’ He smiled that dazzling smile of his, and she couldn’t help herself, she smiled back. Then he took her arm and said, ‘I am serious, Kate, about seeing you again. Shall we walk a little further?’
So, she walked along the beach again, by his side, because really, what else could she have done? Silence reigned for a short while, but it wasn’t long before he spotted a shell, which he picked up and held out to her.
‘This is an oyster shell,’ he said. ‘It must have washed up from the oyster beds in the Thames, or possibly even from France.’
She nodded, reaching out to touch it. ‘Such a long journey for a small creature.’
He was turning it so she could see its pearly interior dancing with rainbow lights in the sun, and she dutifully admired it. But really, she was transfixed by the way in which he was examining the intricacies of the shell, fingering the delicate curves and indents.
He had fine hands; she had always been aware of that. They were long-fingered and powerful enough to crush the shell, but he held it with something that was almost tenderness, and she was fascinated. Her gaze strayed to his profile, the very definition of nobility and strength, except for those soft lips…
‘My lord?’
‘Please,’ he said quietly, ‘call me Dan. Have you a question for me?’
‘Not a question, but there is something I must say. I have heard that Cecily is very beautiful. You must understand that I would not have blamed you if you had returned to her.’
It was as if a shadow had darkened his features. ‘Tell me this,’ he said. ‘Tell me truthfully, because I would like to know the answer. How in God’s name could I have been tempted by her, when you must realise by now that all I can think of is you?’
The waves curled closer, making a purring sound as they rolled up the beach and sucked at the pebbles as they withdrew. The breeze was warm and soft, but not as warm and soft as the palms of his hands when he tilted her face up to his and said, ‘I was only away for one night. But I missed you, Kate. Badly.’
He kissed her, a gentle kiss at first, lightly on her lips. But then—then, he clasped around her waist, holding her close so that his hips were pressed against her abdomen and she could feel the rigid proof of his desire. He kissed her again more insistently this time, with his tongue teasing and probing in that way that thrilled her whole being.
Her brain tried to hold on to sanity. It was happening again, and it was wrong. Men did not desire her, and anyway, all she wanted was to live a life that was independent and free! But what had happened? This man had happened, that was what, and he was kissing her,needingher. His tongue was ravishing her mouth, her breasts were tingling and a low and insistent ache throbbed in her belly.
Cold reality, in the form of a foam-tipped wave curling around her toes, brought her back to her senses. ‘My shoes!’ She was half laughing, half gasping. ‘They are soaked!’
He looked down at the now-retreating wave that had left its salt water mark on his riding boots and he laughed too, saying, ‘Do you know, I believe I’ve entirely changed my mind about this place. I love Brighton. I love the sea.’
Another wave was sweeping in and he clutched her hand, pulling her further up the beach. She was out of breath but still smiling. ‘So do I. In fact, I would love to be a mermaid, but I suspect that at the moment I look more like a stranded fish.’
‘Never,’ he said. ‘Never.’ Once more there was that expression on his face that sent a bone-deep longing surging through her, a longing that physically hurt. Then he seemed to shake himself a little, and after looking round he said, ‘You are soaked, Kate. Not just your shoes, but your skirt as well. We must try and get you dry. Come.’
Swiftly he took her hand and led the way to where some abandoned bathing cabins, with paint peeling off their sagging walls, were huddled like shipwrecks out of sight of the main beach. Still holding her hand, he kicked aside the canvas door to one and went inside, helping her to sit on the wooden bench in there before stooping to examine her soaked skirt and her shoes.
‘You’re cold,’ he said. ‘Here, take this.’
Already he was shrugging off his heavy riding coat and was about to put it around her shoulders, but she shook her head and rose to her feet, pushing his coat aside. She was smiling, but there was a catch in her voice as she said, ‘Do you honestly think I care about my clothes? Please, Dan—will you kiss me again?’
He kissed her.
It was a hungry kiss, a desperate kiss, there in the shadowy confines of the little wooden bathing cabin. A kiss that at first was all hands and lips and the taste of salt on one another’s skin. She ran her palms over those shoulders that were so broad and muscular, feeling the heat of his body through his thin shirt, and because it was unbuttoned at the top, she reached to feel the rhythm of his thudding pulse at the base of his throat. At her touch he groaned and pulled her closer.
She loved the scent of him. He wore his usual cologne, spicy and fragrant, but now it was mingled with the smell of the sea and a musky hint of sheer maleness. He kissed her again, then he set her away from him and her spirits sank—but it was only so he could kiss her throat, moving his mouth down to the uncoveredupper curve of her breasts, letting his tongue trail across the sensitive flesh.
Then his hands were cupping her there, his thumbs were moving across her nipples and she felt them harden into tiny peaks of utter desire. Desperately she arched herself closer to him, clinging to his firm back because his touch was unsteadying her, melting her to the point where nothing existed except this man. She wanted him to kiss her again and he did, fiercely now, until the throbbing torment that possessed her warned her she wanted far more than his kisses.
