Red Roses Mean Love

Stephen raised his head and their gazes locked. 'Friendship?'

She nodded and smiled. 'Yes. We're friends, are we not?'

He stared at her for several long seconds, transfixed by the sight of her. Shiny waves of chestnut hair rippled over her shoulders, falling down her back in a silken mass. Several tendrils escaped the simple ribbon holding the curls away from the loveliest face he had ever seen. Her expressive eyes gazed at him in an open, warm, and artless manner. When was the last time a woman had looked at him in such a way? Never. No one had ever looked at the Marquess of Glenfield like that.

The women he knew, the shallow females of the ton, looked at him with calculated interest, plotting ways to lure him into buying expensive baubles, scheming to become his marchioness, and offering him their charms in the bedchamber in exchange. No woman had ever offered him friendship.

He cleared his throat. 'Considering the fact that you saved my life, and have kindly opened your home to me during my recuperation, I would certainly have to agree that you are my friend,' he finally said. 'I hope someday I may repay you for all your kindness.'

'Oh, that's not in the least bit necessary. I greatly enjoy your company. It's so nice to have another adult to talk to.' She cast him a grinning sidelong glance. 'Besides, I've grown quite attached to Pericles. You realize your horse is the real reason we allowed you to stay.'

'Then I shall have to thank him,' he responded with a smile.

They stood for a moment, simply looking at each other, and Stephen found himself entranced. With the moonlight gleaming against her hair, highlighting her creamy skin, it almost appeared as if a halo surrounded her. She looked like an aqua-eyed angel dressed in a linen shirt and breeches.

She reached out and touched his sleeve. 'Are you all right, Mr. Barrettson? You look disturbed.'

Stephen glanced down, his gaze riveted on her hand resting against his forearm. A warm shiver rippled through him, setting his blood to humming. Why did this woman's slightest touch have such a disturbing, profound effect on his senses?

'Mr. Barrettson?'

The concerned note in her voice yanked Stephen out of his reverie. He raised his eyes, all but mesmerized by the young woman in front of him. Her brow was furrowed in obvious concern for his well-being.

'I'm fine, Miss Albright,' he replied softly, his gaze wandering slowly downward until it settled on the flower tucked in her buttonhole. Reaching out, he touched a petal with one finger. 'What flower did you say this was?'

'A pansy.'

'And what do pansies stand for?'

'They mean 'you occupy my thoughts.''

''You occupy my thoughts…'' he repeated. Seemingly of their own volition, his feet moved, drawing him a step closer to her, and then another, until only several inches separated them. He'd half expected her to retreat, but she didn't move; only stared at him with wide eyes.

The tips of her breasts brushed his shirt every time she inhaled. An image of her crushed against his length flashed through his mind, and his entire body quickened in response. He needed to step away from her. Immediately.

Instead, he gently brushed a wayward curl from her cheek and discovered that his fingers were not quite steady. 'You're occupying my thoughts right now,' he said, his voice coming out in a husky rasp.

'I… I am?'

'Yes.' Stephen's gaze probed hers. He wanted very much to kiss her, but to his utter amazement he was experiencing an unprecedented battle with his conscience, an inner voice he'd thought long dead.

You'll be gone from here in a fortnight. Don'trisk hurting a woman who has shown you nothing but kindness. She's an innocent country girl who doesn't know how to play the sophisticated games of love you're used to. Leave her alone!

Stephen was just about to perform an incredible, not to mention previously unheard of, noble gesture and move away from her, when her gaze drifted down to his mouth. He could practically feel the soft caress against his lips. Stifling a groan, he mentally buried his conscience in a deep grave and leaned forward until a mere hairsbreadth separated their lips.

His inner voice made one last valiant effort to speak, but he shoved it firmly aside and brushed his mouth across her full lips.

That first gentle caress, really nothing more than a mingling of breaths, left Stephen unsatisfied and hungry for more. Cupping her face between his palms, he kissed her again, his lips teasing, circling, tasting hers.

Whatever he'd expected, it wasn't the flood of sensations that engulfed him.

His blood rushed through his veins, pounding through his system like a raging river. Her flowery, feminine scent surrounded him, invading his senses, drugging him. A breathy, pleasure-filled sigh escaped her, and his body tightened in response.

Heat vibrated through him, and when she gently placed her palms against his chest, he knew she would feel his hammering heart.

Lost in her, he deepened their kiss, running the tip of his tongue along the seam of her lips. She opened up to him like a blooming flower, welcoming his invasion of her silky mouth. She tasted warm, and indescribably delightful.

The instant their tongues touched, Stephen felt her melt against him like wax to a flame. Emitting a low moan, she wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his kiss with equal fervor.

Her abandoned response staggered him, stealing what small control he still possessed. His loins leapt to life with a tingling throb that quickly grew into a pulsing ache. When she sweetly offered him her tongue, rubbing it slowly against his own, he groaned deep in his chest. Crushing her to him, he captured her lips in a series of long, slow, drugging kisses that sent shock waves sizzling through his entire system.

He untied the ribbon binding her silky tresses and dropped the strip of satin to the ground. Gathering the soft, fragrant waves in his hands, he entwined the strands around his fingers while his mouth plundered hers with a searing, relentless hunger.

'Stephen…' she sighed in his ear when he bent his head to kiss the side of her neck.

Hearing her moan his name in that passion-thickened voice forced another deep, aching groan from his chest. He pressed hot, urgent kisses down the long column of her neck, and when her shirt impeded his progress, he untangled his fingers from her hair and made quick work of the top several buttons.

His lips caressed the rapidly beating pulse at the base of her throat, then dipped lower to the sloping curves of her breasts swelling over the lacy top of her chemise. Stephen inhaled deeply, then touched his tongue to her velvety, rose-scented skin. Dear God, she felt like an angel and tasted like heaven.

While Hayley clung to his shoulders, Stephen glided his lips slowly up her throat. When his mouth once again found hers, she parted her lips, welcoming the urgent thrust of his tongue with an answering thrust of her own.

He felt as if he'd been set on fire. His palms wandered restlessly up and down her back, slipping down to cup her buttocks, hauling her up tight against his straining arousal. The feel of her full breasts crushed against his chest, nipples hardened into pinpoint crests, strained his body to the breaking point.

His control, an aspect of himself he could always rely upon, hovered on the edge of oblivion. His loins felt as tight as a fist, aching and heavy. His hands trembled with the urgent need to cup her breasts … to wander lower … inside her breeches.

Unless he planned to divest her of her clothes and lay her down right here in the rose garden, they had to stop. Now.

With great reluctance and no small amount of willpower, he raised his head and dragged a ragged breath into his lungs. He looked at her, unable to squelch his surge of masculine satisfaction at her bemused, desire-filled gaze.

'Good heavens,' she said in a breathless whisper. 'I had no idea kissing could be so… so…' Her voice trailed off into nothingness.

'So … what?' Stephen asked in a husky rasp he didn't recognize as his own voice. He