He started, as if she’d poked him with a pin, and dropped his arm. “What? I told you—”
“Yes, but you didn’t explain. We kissed. Why is that so wrong?”
He cast a glance at the sky, took a deep breath and said, as if it should be perfectly obvious, “What’s wrong is who we are, you and I, our circumstances.”
“What circumstances?” Vomiting, stinking, stripping naked and drooling all over him jumped to mind. She braced herself.
He gestured. “You, me, alone, out here in the middle of the night.”
“It’s not that late. And nobody knows.”
“That’s not the point. I’m supposed to be protecting you.”
Ah, so he was being honorable, as she’d suspected. “You have protected me. You saved me from Mr. Nixon. You looked after me. And tonight you stopped me from slipping in the mud, and you saved me from an owl.” She paused a moment, then added softly, “A kiss doesn’t hurt anyone, does it?”
He scanned the skies again as if searching for the right words, then said in a hard voice, “Look, it means nothing. It was a moment of passing lust, that’s all. Ephemeral. Temporary. Men have a tendency to take advantage of whatever woman is available, and that’s what I did. And given who we are, it was a mistake.”
“I see.” If his kiss had been prompted by lust, it meant she didn’t disgust him. That cheered her up. “So if we were different people?”
“We’re not. I’m not for you, and you’re not for me.”
She nodded as if she understood and accepted his words, which she didn’t. It was some kind of obscure masculine reasoning, and she could see she wasn’t going to get any proper explanation out of him.
At least she understood—sort of—why he’d kissed her in the first place. It was why he’d stopped that bothered her now.
“You’re sure I didn’t make a mull of it, the kissing, I mean? I need to know, because it was my first-ever kiss.” She felt him tense and something prompted her to add, “And if someone kisses me in the future, I would like to get it right.”
She wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard a muffled groan. “You didn’t make a mull of anything. You were— It was—” He shook his head. “It was just a moment of passing lust.”
“I see. Like a passing owl.”
He blinked at the analogy, then shook his head in exasperation. “No, not like a passing owl! This conversation is becoming ridiculous. Just—just put the whole thing behind you and forget all about it.”
Lily thought about that for a moment, then said, “I don’t think I can.”
He frowned. “Did you not hear a word I said?”
She gave him a warm smile. “I did. Every word you said.” And a few he hadn’t. “But if you think I can forget my first-ever kiss, you’re sorely mistaken.” She took his arm again and they resumed walking.
After a moment she added, “And I’m sorry if you didn’t enjoy it because I thought it was . . . lovely.”
A kiss doesn’t hurt anyone, does it?
He checked that the coast was clear and hurried her up the stairs.
Did I do it wrong?
Lord preserve him from luscious innocents with big wide eyes and questions that buzzed in his brain. It—she was the last thing he needed—or wanted.
If you think I can forget my first-ever kiss, you’re sorely mistaken.
He whisked her into the tiny sitting room and closed the door firmly behind them. Now what? He found himself staring at her mouth, rosy and moist. Was it slightly swollen from— No. He dragged his gaze off her.
“Time for bed.” Her cheeks flushed a delicate wild-rose pink and he added hastily, “I mean, of course, to sleep.” The flush was from the walk in the cold air, he told himself.
She gave him a shy smile.
“Not yet, surely. It’s still quite early and the walk has woken me up.” He looked away. He did not need to see her smile, did not need to look into those wide gray eyes. I’m sorry if you didn’t enjoy it because I thought it was lovely.
“After all, I’ve spent most of the last two days and nights sleeping.”
He seized on the excuse. “Yes, but it wasn’t a natural sleep. Your body needs to recover from your ordeal, and after a bath and a good meal—and that walk—sleep is what you most need. You have a long journey ahead of you tomorrow.” He added briskly, “The landlord’s daughter will be up in a short while. I’ve arranged for her to sleep on a trundle in your bedchamber.”
“Betty? Why? For propriety?”
“Yes. I daresay she’ll be grateful for an early night too.”
“Thank you, you’re very thoughtful.” Her eyes were shining.
She was making him out to be some kind of hero, dammit, and he wasn’t. He’d arranged the girl to sleep in her room for his own protection as much as hers. So that nobody could be compromised.
“I’m sorry to be putting you to such trouble.”
“Not at all,” he said gruffly. “None of it was your fault. Don’t worry, I’ll do everything in my power to ensure you aren’t harmed by this.” He glanced at the darkening bruise, and without thinking he cupped her cheek gently.
She gazed up at him, her eyes wide, her skin warm silk beneath his fingers. Her breath was soft on his wrist. He swallowed, unable to look away. The scent of her enticed him unbearably, the scent of her body overlaid with his own fragrance. It was a delicious taunt, a challenge, a possession that would never take place.
That bruise against her pale skin was an obscenity. He heard himself say, “No one shall ever hurt you again.” It sounded like a vow.
Her eyes shimmered with emotion, her lips parted and, in an impulse he refused to examine, he drew her closer and kissed her.
Her mouth opened beneath his: eager, ardent, generous. The sweet-spicy taste of her spilled through him, addictive, feeding a hunger he didn’t know he
