Jacquie D'Alessandro (15 page)

She halted less than two feet in front of him, and he snapped his gaze back up to her face. The ice emanating from her glare was surely meant to freeze him where he stood.

“No, Mr. Stanton,” she said in a voice throbbing with anger, “I have not taken leave of my senses. I often visit this warm spring alone at night, as I enjoy the solitude. I was not
swimming
, I was soaking. There was no risk as not only am I an excellent swimmer, but the water in the spring is no deeper than my shoulders. No one knows I am here, but I assure you I am perfectly safe. Little Longstone is not London, and dangerous persons, with the obvious exception of
you,
do not skulk about in the bushes. And now that I’ve answered all your questions, perhaps you’d enlighten me as to what the hell
you
are doing here?”

He wanted to answer her, but God help him, he couldn’t find his voice. The sight of her, wet, beautiful, angry, stole his ability to speak. Damn near stole his ability to breathe.

She planted her fists on her hips. “Were you spying on me? Trying to frighten me?”

He frowned, shook his head, and swallowed. “No.” His voice sounded rusty, as if he hadn’t used it in a decade or two. “I couldn’t sleep. Wanted some air. I heard splashing…and there you were. I hadn’t recovered from my surprise when you went under the water. It seemed you were under far too long. I thought you were drowning.” He could barely push the last word past his lips.

Unable to stop himself, he reached out and trailed unsteady fingers over her cheek. Her skin was smooth, warm and wet beneath his fingers. Her eyes widened at the gesture, but she did not pull away.

“I’m sorry for shouting at you. I thought you were drowning…” His fingers slipped from her cheek, and he fancied he saw disappointment flash in her eyes. Reaching down, he clasped her hands, then pressed them against his chest over the spot where his heart still raced. “Can you feel how scared I was?” he asked, drinking in the sensation of her hands on him, wishing his shirt would magically disappear.

Her head jerked in a tiny nod. “I…I’m sorry as well. I was only wetting my hair.”

He inhaled, and the delicious scent of her warm, wet, nearly naked body filled his head, intoxicating him. His sudden spate of anger died as quickly as it had flared, replaced by a roar of desire that threatened to bring him to his knees. All the feelings he’d held in check for so long rushed to the surface, sweeping away his restraint like a feather cast upon rough seas. He wanted her so badly…

He released her hands, cupped her face in his palms, then slowly lowered his head.

At the first gentle brush of his lips against hers, he stilled, absorbing the incredible realization that he was actually kissing her, memorizing the sensation. He brushed his lips over hers again, and a tiny gasp escaped her. Her fingers curled against his chest, her lips parted slightly, and the longing that he’d held back for so long burst.

With a groan, he erased the space between them in one step. Wrapping one arm around her waist, he clasped her tightly against him. He sifted a hand through her damp hair, then deepened their kiss.

Catherine stood in the strong circle of his arms and simply allowed the onslaught of sensations battering her to take over. Warm. He was so warm. She felt as if he’d wrapped her in a velvet blanket.

Solid. The sensation of her body pressed against his from chest to knee stole her breath. Her fingers curled, then splayed against his chest, and she could feel the hard muscles beneath the fine linen. His heartbeat thundered against her palms, and she absorbed every slap, knowing her heart was beating at the same frantic speed.

She parted her lips and was rewarded with the erotic, delicious sweep of his tongue against hers. He tasted dark and exotic, with a faint trace of brandy.

More. How she wanted more of this heady wonder, more of these sensuous delights. She pressed herself closer to him, reveling in his arousal pressing against her belly. A low groan vibrated in his throat, and she glided one hand up to touch the sound. He wore no cravat, and her fingers brushed over the shallow indentation at the base of his throat, then slipped beneath the material to touch his warm, firm skin before sliding upward to ruffle through his thick hair.

His hold on her tightened, and she strained closer, squirming against him.
More. Please, more…

He answered her silent plea, slanting his mouth over hers in a long, slow, deep, tongue-mating kiss that dissolved her bones. His large hands tunneled through her hair, then moved slowly down her back, as if trying to memorize every inch.

When his palms reached the small of her back, he left her lips and trailed his mouth along her jaw, then down her neck with a series of heated, nipping kisses. Shivers of delight shook her and she leaned her head back to give him better access.

He blazed a trail back up her neck, then found her lips once more, destroying her with another hot, openmouthed, lush kiss that made her feel as if she were a mound of gunpowder on the verge of exploding. A long, need-filled groan rumbled upward from the vicinity of her toes. He gentled the kiss, then raised his head, and her groan turned to one of protest.

She forced her eyes open and stilled. A feminine thrill unlike any she’d ever felt before suffused her at the fire burning in his gaze. Never had a man looked at her like that. With such heat. Such passion. Such reverence. Such raw hunger. She felt a tremor run through him and clearly saw his fight for self-control…a fight that part of her badly wanted him to lose. The feminine part that longed to feel his kiss again. His hands on her body. Skin to skin.

One strong arm released her, and he brought his hand to her face. Slowly his fingertips brushed over her brow. Her cheeks, her lips, all while his other arm held her tightly against him—which was good, as she suspected she’d slither to the ground in a boneless, heated heap. He swallowed, then whispered one word.

“Catherine.”

It sounded like a sensual caress. Deep and raspy, with a hint of wonder. The sound tickled over her skin, making her feel wicked and decadent. More womanly and alive than she’d felt in years. There was only one word she could answer in reply.

“Andrew.”

A slow smile tilted up his lips. “I like the way my name sounds when you say it.”

“It was all I could think of to say, except Oh, my.”

“I am in complete agreement.”

“Is this possible? That we agree
again
this evening?”

“Shocking, but true. However, you sound surprised that you would think to say
Oh, my
about our kiss.”

“I confess I somewhat am. Are you not?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t doubt for a moment it would be like that. The only thing that surprises me is that I managed to summon the fortitude to stop.”

“You’d thought about kissing me?” She blessed the cover of darkness that kept him from seeing the flush that heated her cheeks at her forward question, but she wanted to know. Needed to know.

“Yes. Does that…upset you?”

No. It excites me. Almost unbearably
. “No.” Her eyes searched his, and after a quick debate, she uttered the unvarnished truth. “I’ve never been kissed like that.”

He cupped her cheek in his callused palm and brushed his thumb lightly over her lips. “Good. I like to be first.”

A dozen sensual images collided in Catherine’s mind, and she realized this man could represent a great many “firsts” for her—firsts her body was aching to experience. The arousal still pressing against her belly and the hard, fast thumping of his heart beneath her palms indicated he wouldn’t be averse to the idea.

But she could not make such an important decision, like whether or not to take him as a lover, while wrapped in his arms. She needed to think. And in order to do so, she had to put some space between them.

She slowly stepped back, until three feet separated them. His gaze wandered down her body. Her wet chemise clung to her skin, revealing everything to his avid gaze, but instead of feeling shy, she reveled in the intense need and desire etched on his face.

“You’re beautiful, Catherine. The most beautiful woman in the world.”

The desire his words fueled in her left her shaking and
frightened. Hoping to cool the fire racing through her, dispel the sensual tension bouncing between them, she attempted a laugh. “How can you possibly say that? You haven’t met every woman in the world.”

“I don’t need to touch fire to know it would burn me. I don’t need to smash a hammer on my finger to know it would hurt. Or eat a sweet from the confectionary to know I’d want another one. Some things, Catherine, you just
know
.” He reached out and lightly grasped her hand, entwining their fingers. “I also know that our next kiss will be even more
Oh, my
than the one we just shared. And the one after that…” He raised their joined hands to his lips and pressed a warm kiss against the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist. “Indescribable.”

“Our
next
kiss, Mr. Stanton? What makes you think there will be a next kiss?”

“As I said, some things you just
know
.”

Another bout of heat whooshed through her. Good heavens. It was time to end this interlude before their next kiss happened right now. Turning, she strode to the flat rock where she’d placed her robe. After slipping her arms into the sleeves, she tightened the sash around her waist. When she turned around, he stood not two feet away. She drew in a sharp breath, and her head filled with his delightful, musky the scent.

“Andrew,” he said softly.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Just now you called me Mr. Stanton. I’d prefer you call me Andrew. Just as I’d prefer to call you Catherine.”

She’d called him that to put a bit of emotional distance between them, but she doubted her ability ever to think of him in such formal terms again. Not now that she knew the texture of his skin. The silkiness of his hair. The sensation of his tongue stroking hers. And she could not
deny that she liked the sound of her name coming from his lips. Amazing how simply dropping the word “Lady” changed…everything.

“I suppose we’re on a first-name basis now. Very well…Andrew.” His name tasted decadent, luscious upon her tongue.

He reached out and clasped her hands in a warm grip. “Are you sorry about what happened between us, Catherine?”

She shook her head. “Not sorry. But…” Her voice trailed off, unable to find the right word to describe the jumble of emotions careening through her.

“Scared?” he guessed. “Confused?”

Botheration, when had she become so transparent? “Do you have clairvoyant capabilities, Andrew?”

“Not at all.” He lifted her hands, one at a time to his mouth, his gaze never leaving hers. “I only suggest those because they are some of the things I’m feeling.”

“Scared? You?” She meant to laugh, but the sound came out as a breathless sigh when his tongue brushed the center of her palm.

“Terrified is actually closer to the truth.”

The fact that this strong, virile man would admit such a thing touched her in a way she couldn’t describe. “Why?”

“I’d say for the exact same reasons you are.”

“Because as pleasant as our kiss was, you’re not sure it was a good idea?”

“No. I think it was a good idea. And Catherine, our kiss was much more than ‘pleasant.’”

“Must you disagree with
everything
I say?”

“Only when you’re wrong. And you’re wrong to describe what happened between us with a bland word such as pleasant.”

Well, she certainly couldn’t argue with that. “Why are you scared?”

He said nothing for several long seconds, clearly considering how to answer her. Finally, he said, “I’m afraid of tomorrow. I’m afraid that once we leave here, once we go our separate ways for the rest of the night, that when I see you again tomorrow you’ll have forgotten what we shared here. Or if not forgotten, then you’ll have decided to ignore it. I’m afraid you’ll look at me with coolness rather than heat in your eyes. I’m afraid that you’ll stop what we could share together before it’s even had a chance to start.”

She cleared her throat. “I don’t think there is anything I can say right now to allay your fears. But I can assure you that I will not forget what we shared this evening.”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Something else for us to agree upon, for I will not forget it. Not if I live to be one hundred. Now you tell me—what are you confused about?”

She toyed with the idea of lying. Or simply leaving. But it was most likely best that she should speak her mind. “My mind and my common sense are telling me to walk away and not look back. Everything else in me, however, does not want to do that. I am not a naive, virginal miss, and I know where this…flirtation could lead. However, I’ve more than just myself and my desires to consider. Therefore, I have a great deal of thinking to do. And decisions to make.”

“As do I.”

“Indeed? What sort of decisions do you have to make?”

A hint of deviltry sparkled in his eyes. “I must decide how best to entice you to make the decision
I
want you to make.”

Matching his mischievous tone, she said, “You realize, of course, that arrogance is a most irritating character trait that will certainly not tip the scales in your favor during my decision-making.”

“I spoke not out of arrogance, but out of honesty—a trait most people appreciate and find admirable.”

“Are you saying you intend to
seduce
me?”

“I’m saying I intend to court you.”

Catherine’s heart skipped. A ridiculous reaction to a ridiculous statement. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

He raised his brows. “You’d prefer not to be courted?”

“There is no point in your doing so.”

“So you’d prefer simply to be seduced.”

“Yes. I mean no! I mean, oh!” She stepped away from him and pulled her robe tighter around her. “You are so—”

“Irrepressible? Irresistible?”

Amusement she couldn’t deny rippled though her, and her lips twitched. “I was going to say irritating.”