“I know, Mum.” Lily rose, forcing her lips to curve in a smile. “I’ll go make my farewells.”
“That’s my Lily.” Mum smiled in return. “Aunt Cecily could use some help bringing Lucy and Penelope downstairs.” Lucy and Penelope were Lily’s small cousins, aged two and three. “I’m afraid all our servants are engaged with the luggage.”
“Of course I’ll help.” With one last wistful look at the harpsichord, Lily quit the room and followed her mother upstairs, looking forward to kissing the two girls good-bye.
But the nursery was empty. “Oh, well,” Mum said cheerfully. “Aunt Cecily must have managed to wrestle the little rapscallions downstairs by herself. Come along, then.” She turned back to the corridor.
Feeling like one of King Charles’s tennis balls being batted back and forth, Lily followed. Then nearly bumped into her mother when she stopped before a door—the door to the room that had been assigned to Rand.
If Lily hadn’t already known that, she would have figured it out on hearing the humming that drifted from inside.
Mum knocked and called through the oak. “How is it going, Rand?”
The door opened, and Rand stood there, a shirt dangling from one hand. “It’s going well, thank you,” he said, stepping back into the room to toss the garment into his trunk. He looked, Lily thought, like he was relieved to be heading over to Lakefield to stay.
Well, she was relieved, too. The less she had to watch Rose fawning over him, the better.
A frown on her forehead, Chrystabel pointedly scanned the room. “Where is the maid I arranged for? Did she never show up?” She turned to Lily. “Perhaps you can assist Rand with his packing.”
“I—” Lily started.
“That’s my Lily.” Without waiting for her agreement, Mum turned to look down the stairwell. “Arabel!” she shouted. “Don’t you dare leave without a bottle of perfume!” And before Lily could say anything, she was gone.
Lily shifted her gaze to Rand, suppressing a smile when she saw him roll up a pair of breeches. With a sigh, she walked into the room. “Let me help you with that.”
“I can do it myself, although I cannot fathom why the maid unpacked everything. I brought enough for a two-week stay, but not here.”
“She wasn’t privy to your plans.” She took the garment and folded it neatly, thinking it felt a bit scandalous to be handling his clothes. “As soon as some of these people leave, more help will be available.”
Lady and Jasper watched from the sill, holding a noisy conversation. “What could a squirrel and a bird possibly be discussing?” Rand asked rather peevishly, then didn’t wait for her to answer. “I told Ford I’d be back in an hour. He wants to work some more on the translation.”
“Ford will have to understand.” She walked over and bent to set the breeches in his trunk. “He can wait.”
When Rand didn’t respond, she straightened to find him near her. In fact, he was looming over her, near enough that her skin prickled in reaction.
“I cannot,” he said, his voice lower and husky.
“What?” She blinked.
“I cannot wait. To kiss you.”
A sudden awareness began pulsing through her veins. “My lord—”
“Rand.”
“Rand,” she whispered. He was so close she could smell him, soap and the faint remnants of all those warring perfumes, all layered over his own unique scent. The scent that was Rand. And he wanted to kiss her. Her lips tingled with the memory of last night’s kiss, so innocent and yet so affecting. She wanted that again…that and more.
Rose. She’d promised Rose. She couldn’t do this.
She backed up toward the corridor, her gaze darting around the chamber. “The door is open.”
He followed her—and reached around her to shut it. “Now it’s not.”
She backed away more, until she was smack up against it.
“Lily.” He followed her again and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I very much wish to kiss you.”
Even through the fitted jacket of her riding habit, his fingers felt warm, their imprints sending a rush of sensation through her. Her mouth dried, and she licked her lips. “I very much wish…”
“What?”
She could hardly breathe. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.” His eyes glowed silver, a mixture of confidence and desire. “You want to kiss me, too.”
“Maybe. But…I cannot.”
“Oh,” he said, “I think you can.”
And then he proved it.
His mouth on hers was gentle, like it had been the night before. Still, that light touch was enough to make her dizzy. Finding it impossible to think clearly, she reached to wind her arms around his neck. His hands slipped behind her, settling on the small of her back to draw her against him.
He felt warm, solid. She moved even closer and fit her curves to his body. A low groan rose from his throat, and his lips slanted more urgently, coaxing hers to open.
Lily knew about this kind of kiss—she was, after all, the youngest of three sisters. She’d anticipated the day she might try it, with both excitement and some trepidation. It had sounded…well, rather messy and not entirely pleasant, no matter that she’d been assured otherwise.
So it was with some apprehension that she responded to the pressure of his mouth, opening her lips the barest measure. His tongue traced a slow line between, and she shivered and opened wider, giving him what he wanted.
And goodness, she wanted it, too. His tongue invaded further, teasing hers with a heavenly skill that made her weak in the knees. Her eyes drifted closed. Her arms tightened around him, and she breathed in his heady scent, tasting him in return.
Quite suddenly her world seemed filled with him. He tasted glorious. And the mysteries of the bedchamber no longer seemed frightening—not when her entire body thrummed from only a kiss.
At last he gently eased away and rested his lips on her forehead. “I have to leave,” he said, the words gruff against her skin.
Lady tweeted from the window, and Jasper answered with a chirp. Lily hadn’t heard them while Rand had been kissing her. She hadn’t heard
