Whirlwind Wedding

'No.' He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, 'I intend to kiss you most improperly.'

Drawing her into his arms, he covered her lips with his. God help him, she felt exquisite. Soft and round warm and delicious.

When he ran his tongue along the seam of her lips, she gasped effectively parting her lips, and he slipped his tongue into the luscious warmth of her mouth. Strawberries. She tasted like strawberries. Sweet, delicious, seductive. He pulled her closer, until her long, lush body was pressed tightly against him, and he marveled at the unique sensation of kissing such a tall woman.

His common sense roused itself and demanded he stop, but he couldn't. Damn it, he should have been appalled at himself for kissing her, uninterested in the naive chit, bored with her innocence.

Instead he was fascinated aching, and aroused. When she shyly touched her tongue to his, a groan rumbled deep in his throat, and he delved deeper, slanting his mouth over hers, tasting, thrusting, swallowing her breathy moans. He lost all sense of time and place, could think only of the woman in his arms, the warm, soft feel of her, the sweet, drugging taste of her, the gentle floral scent of her.

His arousal ached with a need that grew so intense, it finally dragged him from his sensuous haze. He had to stop. Now. Or he'd lay her down right here in the stable.

Summoning his last ounce of self-control, he ended their kiss.

Her eyes opened slowly. 'Oh my.'

Oh my, indeed. He didn't know what he'd expected but he certainly hadn't anticipated this woman unleashing the flood of lust clutching him in a stranglehold. His heart slapped against his ribs, and his damn hands were shaking. Instead of satisfying his curiosity, her kiss had only whetted his appetite, a hunger that threatened to consume him whole-right after it burned him alive.

Her soft breasts were crushed against his chest, igniting fires on his skin. His arousal throbbed painfully and only a lifetime of keeping himself in strict control afforded him the ability to lower his arms and step away from her.

She drew a long, shuddering breath, and he grimly noted that she was obviously as shaken as he.

'Goodness,' she said in an unsteady voice. 'I had no idea that kissing improperly was so…'

'So… what?'

'So… not dry.' She inhaled several more times, then cleared her throat. 'Now do you believe that I read your thoughts?'

'No.'

Color stained her cheeks and temper flashed in her eyes. 'Are you denying you wanted to kiss me?'

His gaze dropped briefly to her mouth. 'No. But any man would want to kiss you.' And damn it, he felt like he'd kill any man who did.

'Do you still intend to ride tonight?'

'That is none of your concern.'

She simply stared at him for several heartbeats, then shook her head. 'In that case, I can only hope that you'll reconsider and heed my warning. And pray that no harm comes to you. At least it isn't raining as it was in my vision, so perhaps you'll be safe. This time. Good night, your grace. I won't bother you with my visions again.'

Austin watched her disappear into the darkness, forcing himself not to go after her. Something in her voice as she'd uttered those last words scraped at his insides. He raked his hands through his hair and paced. Damn it all, how could she expect him, expect anyone, to seriously credit her claims of visions and mind reading? It was simply too far-fetched, too illogical, to consider.

But no matter how much it chafed him to admit it, she was right about one thing. He had wanted to kiss her. With an intensity that stunned him. And now that he'd tasted her, he wanted to do it again.

And again.

Chapter 6

Elizabeth approached the stables early the next morning, anxious to get out of the house after a restless night spent trying to forget her disturbing encounter with the duke. Had he gone riding? She'd lain awake half the night, listening for rain, but the weather had thankfully remained fair. Hopefully some fresh air and a brisk ride would obliterate her worry and concern, not to mention the disappointment and hurt, aching inside at the realization that she'd never convince him about her visions.

Yet she knew mere exercise would never erase the memory of that kiss. That incredible, soul-stirring, unforgettable kiss that had touched her deep inside and awakened a sleeping passion she hadn't known existed. And kindled feelings… yearnings… she was afraid to examine too closely.

She desperately wanted needed, to forget the exquisite feel of him, the heavenly taste of him. but her heart was simply not cooperating.

She entered the stables and Mortlin greeted her with a smile. 'Come to visit the cats, Miss Matthews? Or do ye wish to ride?'

Forcing aside her turmoil, she returned the groom's smile, then bent down to scratch George behind her ears. 'Both. How about I visit with the kittens while you saddle a mount for me?'

'Fine idea,' Mortlin said. 'Look, there's two 'idin' by that 'ay stack that ye 'aven't met.'

Spying the two frisky calico furballs, she said 'They're adorable. What are their names?' She sent him an arch look. 'Or should I not ask?'

Color seeped into Mortlin's thin cheeks and he shuffled his feet. 'Well, the bigger one's named Zounds-'

'That isn't so terrible.'

'And the other one is, er…' He flushed to the tips of his protruding ears. 'I can't say it in front of a lady.'

Pressing her lips together to contain her amusement, she said 'I see.'

'Guess I've got to change the wee beastie's name, but 'twas the first thing what popped out of me mouth when it was born.' He shook his head clearly bemused. 'Them kittens just kept comin' and comin'. No stoppin' them, there was. Gave me quite a turn, it did.'

'Yes, I imagine so.' She ran her hands over George's warm belly, then stilled. After gently pressing the furry tummy several more times, she hid a smile. 'The gestation period for a cat is about sixty days. I'm afraid I won't still be here when George gives birth to her next litter, or I'd offer to assist you. I'm quite capable in these matters.'

'I'm sure ye are, but…' His voice trailed off and his eyes widened to saucers. 'Next litter?'

'Yes. I predict George will be a mama again in about a month.'

Mortlin's widened eyes bugged out. 'Surely the beast is just fat! The kittens aren't even three months old! 'Ow the blazes did this 'appen?'

She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at the groom's dumbfounded expression. 'In the usual way, I suspect.' Giving George's tummy one last rub, Elizabeth stood then patted the man's arm. 'Do not worry yourself, Mortlin. George will be fine, and you'll have a new group of mice catchers.'

'Got more mice catchers underfoot now than I need' he grumbled. 'Stubble it, this is supposed to be a stable. I'm a groom, not a cat doctor. I'd best saddle yer mount now-before the blasted feline starts spewin' out babes again.'

Suppressing her amusement, Elizabeth entertained herself with the kittens while Mortlin went about his tasks. He soon presented her with a lovely brown mare named Rosamunde and offered her a hand up. She landed in the sidesaddle with a bone-jarring plop that shook her teeth. At home she'd often ridden astride on her solitary rides, but she dared not do so here even though she disliked sidesaddle. The fussy riding ensemble English fashion dictated she wear also irritated her. So many yards of material and poufs and flounces. She thought with longing of the simple, lightweight riding habits she'd fashioned herself and worn in America. Aunt Joanna had taken one look at them and nearly swooned. 'Totally unsuitable, my dear,' Aunt Joanna had declared. 'We must do something about your wardrobe immediately.'

Adjusting her heavy skirts around her as best she could Elizabeth started off. At the end of the short path