Stood one moment with dropped head.
Then he sighed and turned to go.
At that moment the door tore open, and there she stood.
Her face was streaked with tears, her hair tumbling silken about her shoulders. She was in a plain white nightgown, her bare feet on the floorboards.
His heart clenched. To him, she looked like a goddess. Wild, untamable like the wind, yet exquisitely vulnerable and utterly beautiful.
“I-I just w-wanted...” He cursed himself inwardly for stuttering like a gauche schoolboy. Why was it that all his eloquence went out the window whenever he was in her presence?
He opened and closed his mouth.
“What?” she whispered.
She took a step toward him. Another. This time, he did not step back. This time, he remained rooted to the spot, felt her warmth, and breathed in her scent. Sweet, womanly.
He lifted a finger and wiped away a tear on her cheek.
She turned her face sideways so her lips touched his palm.
He forgot to breathe.
It was as if…as if she craved his touch.
His heart pounded as he cradled her face, and then he lifted his second hand. Her skin was soft, softer than silk. She lifted her face, and he was drowning in those deep, dark, lovely eyes.
There was a question in their depth.
She lifted onto her toes, and her mouth met his.
His hands slid into her hair, and she made a small sound against his mouth that undid him entirely. He pulled her closer, felt her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, felt her tremble against him.
His head swam. She was the sweetest delight, thoroughly intoxicating. She was in his blood, racing hot and pounding through his body.
The kiss must have gone on for an eternity. Or perhaps only a moment. He could not tell. Time had lost all meaning.
When they finally broke apart, her breath came in soft gasps. Her eyes were dark, her lips swollen and flushed.
“Lola,” he whispered.
She took his hand and pulled him into the room.
“Come.”
PART TWO
In which a wife (accidentally) writes her revenge
Chapter Six
London,1818
Finally,she was in London!
Viola lowered the carriage window and stuck her head out. The air was dense with fog and smoke, and she could not see a thing, but oh, it was wonderful! The rain drizzled gently on her cheeks, and the smell—she drew in a big lungful of air.
Well. She wrinkled her nose. That she could do without. They must be near the Thames because a putrid stench of rotten fish, urine and burnt coal hovered in the air. But everything else, the hustle and bustle on the streets, and all those people! And oh, the buildings! She craned her neck to see how tall they were. Inverness had nothing to compare.
