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“Thought what?” she asked.

“That...That you might truly want to share in that affection.”

Could Clara be brave enough to declare her own desires to discover his? “I do,” she finally admitted. “You took nothing from me, sir. I willingly offered it.”

He searched her eyes again. “Why?”

“Because you were no longer seeking it.”

His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, visible from the parted gap in his shirt. Then his eyes dropped to her lips again. Still he frowned, clearly attempting to stop his desires.

“And if I seek it now?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

Desire swirled in her stomach. “Then I will gladly accept it.”

He hesitated a moment longer, his grasp on her wrist softening, then he tugged her closer with a slow movement. She did as she was beckoned, and he took a step down until their bodies once more neared.

Reserve still rested across his features, his brow twitching as he raised his free left hand, allowing it to hover at the side of her cheek before gently pressing it against her skin.

Without hesitation, she leaned into its warmth, closing her eyes as the tips of his fingers caressed her. She could hardly breathe. She knew how fickle she appeared, rejecting his advances at one point only to encourage them now, but she hardly cared.

This was what she wanted now. More than anything.

Mr. Cole swallowed, his throat bobbing up and down, then he parted his lips, brushed a curl from her brow, tipped his head to the side, and captured her lips with his.

Clara’s eyes closed at once, heightening her other senses. The scent of his sandalwood cologne clouded her focus, the feel of his hand drawing her wrist up to rest at his chest swirled her desires to a greater level. Her fingers pressed against his skin, and as she caressed it in the same manner he now gently stroked the side of her neck, a deep sigh rumbled within him.

This was what a kiss was supposed to feel like. Not the childhood kisses she’d experienced as a young woman. Not whatever Mr. Agar had accosted her with.

Mr. Cole was a man who knew what he was doing—a man who had changed, a man who had not pressed himself upon her until she demanded it.

He was gentle, yet commanded her attention, coaxing yet deliberate in his movements of urging her head to the side so they might deepen their affection.

And how she was enjoying that affection.

A few moments later, he pulled back, which she knew was for her sake. He wanted to take it slow, to not take advantage of her, but that only made her affection for him want to continue forever.

“I suppose we are even now,” she whispered. “For you keeping my secrets.”

“Is that the only reason you kissed me?” he asked, his breath on her lips.

“I shall pretend that it is.”

“In that case, I recall keeping three secrets for you.”

She paused. “I suppose you have.”

Then she slid her arms around his neck and placed her lips upon his again.

Oliver had never experienced anything like this before. He’d kissed many women, but all of them had been forgettable, blending into one, unsatisfying mass.

But kissing Clara was otherworldly. Unimaginable. Heavenly.

She’d hinted that she was better at flirting. Now, he knew she was. But why was this kiss so different than the rest?

He knew already the truth of the matter, but he couldn’t admit to it. Not until he knew with a surety of mind that he truly was in love with this maid.

This maid...whom he knew to be a lady.