Page 29

“That would be inconvenient,” she said, mock-serious, her cheeks pink. “Should I have nothing suitable to wear.”

“I suspect I would bear the disappointment,” he said, his voice dropping. The color rose in her face as she looked down at their joined hands.

Elizabeth lowered her gaze, a delicate flush rising in her cheeks. She did not withdraw her hand. Her thumb moved hesitantly over his knuckles, a small, exploring stroke.

Julian held his breath as she continued the small caress. He had kissed women far more assured—women who knew precisely how to invite his attention. Yet nothing had ever affected him quite so much as Elizabeth touching him. She had begun to believe she could do so freely, and the gift filled his chest until it ached. He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers. She set her glass aside, the crystal chiming softly against the table.

When he looked up, she studied him with an expression that quieted his amusement, serious, shy, and utterly open. “Will you sit closer?” she asked.

He moved beside her and leaned back against the seat, the wood smooth against his shoulders. She settled against his shoulder, soft and warm, and he put his arm around her. She sighed against his coat.

For a few minutes, neither spoke. Her hand rested on his chest, rising slightly with his breathing. He found himself reluctant to disturb its comfort, even for a kiss. The candles flickered, and the garden hummed softly beyond the door, crickets and the distant rustle of leaves.

Then she tilted her face toward him. “Julian?”

He looked down, his heart skipping. She touched his cheek, her fingers tentative against his skin, and kissed him. He answered slowly, savoring it. She had chosen this, and he wanted her to have time to enjoy it. His hand settled at her waist as she turned more fully toward him, the silk sliding warm beneath his palm.

When she drew back, her fingers remained beside his jaw, trembling slightly. “I wanted to do that from the moment I joined you.”

“I love kissing you,” he told her. “I hope you indulge me often.”

Her smile trembled a little before she kissed him again. This time, he gathered her closer. Her arms came around his shoulders. Her willing embrace made him lose track of everything beyond the blanket and candlelight. The faint scent of lavender in her hair and the soft sounds she made against his mouth.

He kissed her cheek, then the soft place beneath her ear. She held him closer, a small breath catching in her throat. He paused, forehead against hers, both breathing unevenly. “Elizabeth.”

Her eyes opened, dark and luminous in the candlelight. He could have made some light remark about the abandoned picnic. He could have suggested they return before anyone noticed they were gone. Both would have been easier than speaking honestly while she looked at him with such trust. His heart pounded as he drew breath. “I want you,” he said quietly. “But I shall be very content to hold you if that is all you wish.”

She looked down at his cravat. Her fingertips moved along its edge, then stopped, curling into the linen. He waited, and the waiting was the hardest thing he had ever done, and the easiest. “I know what it means,” she said.

He arched a brow. “Yes?”

“I have been thinking about it.” She lifted her gaze, her voice shaking slightly. “About being with you.”

He touched her cheek, his thumb tracing its line. “And what have you decided?”

Her answer came softly, but he heard every word. “I should like you to make love to me.”

Julian remained still for a moment. He had wanted her so fiercely that hearing her ask left him struggling to answer with the care she deserved. Joy and tenderness rose in him so fast that his eyes stung. “Are you certain?”

She nodded, then laid her hand over his and held it against her cheek. “I am nervous,” she admitted. “But I am certain.”

He kissed her palm, then drew her close again, his arm tight around her. There was no need to hurry. He reminded himself of that when she touched the fastening of his coat. She smiled shyly as he helped her with it. He set it aside and returned to her, letting her hands settle on his shoulders. Only his thin, warm shirt between them now.

“Better?” he murmured.

“Yes,” she breathed.

He kissed her until the tension eased from her fingers. She laughed softly at her own fumbling with his cravat. He laughed with her and loosened it himself, tossing it aside with a flick of his wrist.

Soon she was comfortable enough to touch his hair, threading her fingers through it. She drew him nearer when she wanted another kiss. He followed her small invitations, learning how much she would tell him when he gave her time. The press of her hand and the soft sound at the back of her throat.

When he laid her gently against the cushions, her hair spreading pale over the dark fabric, she reached for him, her eyes shining. “Stay close,” she whispered.

He brushed a curl from her cheek, his hand not quite steady. “I am here.”

Julian slid his hand down her back and undid the buttons on her gown. He pushed down her bodice and leaned down to brush open kisses across her bosom. He removed her gown and then her corset and shift. Only her stockings and shoes remained. Julian kissed her neck and then bent down to draw one of her pert nipples into his mouth. He palmed her other breast as he sucked gently on her puckered nipple. She sucked in a breath that sent shivers down his spine.

“You need to remove these.” She slid her hand over his breeches. He stopped long enough to remove his boots and breeches, then returned to her.