Slanting him a wary glance, she did as he said, skimming her left hand along the leaves as she marched through the hornbeam hedges. When they reached a dead end, she turned on him. “It didn’t work.”
“Keep your hand on the wall,” he repeated. “Follow it around.”
“It’s a dead end.”
“I didn’t say you’d never come to a dead end. I said you wouldn’t get lost.” He took her left hand, pressed a slow, warm kiss to the palm, then placed it back against the hedge. “Keep going.”
She did, but not before releasing a long, shuddering breath. She could still feel his lips on her palm, even as she slid it along the leaves. Why had he done that?
Had he not given up on her?
The towering hedges made the path shady and intimate. At the second dead end, she turned to him again. “This cannot be the optimum route.”
“Of course it isn’t.” He looked amused. “You’d have to know the pattern of the maze to take the optimum route. But this is a safe route. You won’t wander the same way twice, and you’ll find the center.” He pressed a quick kiss to her lips, so fast and light she wondered if she might have imagined it. “Keep going.”
At the third dead end she turned to him once more. “This is a waste of time.”
“Of course it’s a waste of time. It’s a maze—there are few things more frivolous.” Smiling, he trailed a finger down her cheek to her chin. A frisson of warmth followed. His thumb rubbed her bottom lip. “But there’s nothing quite so delightful as wasting time with someone you care for, is there?”
He cared for her. What did that mean, exactly? Too tired to think straight, she held her breath as he leaned close and slowly brushed her mouth with his.
She definitely wasn’t imagining this.
Giddy with exhaustion, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. He was right: there was nothing else quite so delightful. Forgetting that she didn’t want him, she slid into the kiss, that wonderful heat building in her, making her head feel light and her stomach flutter with excitement.
“Keep going,” he whispered when at last he drew back.
Dizzily she trailed a hand along the cool leaves, the trodden dirt path hard under her stockinged feet. At the next dead end, she felt his hands on her shoulders, turning her into his arms. His fingers cupped her face, and as he lowered his mouth to meet hers, his woodsy scent filled her head.
The morning was chilly, but he was so very warm and male. He nibbled here and licked there, coaxing her lips to part. As he deepened the kiss, she surrendered all too willingly, his tongue in her mouth sending more heat spiraling through her.
“Kit,” she murmured.
“Hmm?” He kissed both sides of her mouth, where her dimples would be if she were smiling.
“I think…” She was so lightheaded, her thoughts refused to come together. Was it her exhaustion or his kisses? “Let’s keep going.”
She felt weak, so weak she could barely keep her hand to the hedges as she went along. Another dead end loomed ahead, and this time she turned to him before they even reached it.
He laughed low, his smile as intimate as a kiss. “I think you’re enjoying this maze more than you anticipated.” He reached out to tap her mouth, traced her lips, then trailed a finger down her chin, her throat, along the edge of her low décolletage. His gaze went a glittery green as his long finger found the valley between her breasts.
She shivered and went on her toes to press her mouth to his. It was a kiss to fall into, hungry and demanding. Her knees trembled, her throat tightened, and the heat down low grew into a burning ache. By the time he broke away, she was gasping for breath, and she couldn’t have held her hand to the wall had her life depended on it.
He scooped her up in his arms, carried her a short distance to the center, and deposited her on a bench.
No one had ever carried her before—at least, not since she was a small child. It was so romantic. She’d felt safe and cherished held against him, and she was sorry the experience hadn’t lasted longer.
But she was also sorry there hadn’t been more dead ends.
Feeling boneless, she placed her hands on either side of herself for support. The maze’s center was an oval, grassy space, a tiny hidden garden with two old trees and the bench between them, nothing more. A secret place that exuded an air of tranquility and the scents of greenery.
Kit stood looming over her. “Told you we’d find the center.”
She leaned back on her palms, gazing up at him. “That always works?”
“Well, not necessarily quite so enjoyably,” he said with a grin. “But yes, it always works. From a mathematical standpoint, it must.”
She shook her head, then stopped when it made her feel woozy. “I was never all that good at mathematics.”
“And I cannot speak anything but English.” Stepping back, he leaned casually against one of the trees, looking wide awake and utterly handsome. “We all have our strengths, Rose. And our weaknesses. Don’t underreckon yourself.”
“You don’t,” she said, knowing it was true.
“I don’t what?”
“Underreckon me.”
“Of course I don’t. I couldn’t love a woman if I didn’t admire her as well.”
That single syllable, love, threw her. She was reeling under Kit’s onslaught of seductive actions and words. He quite obviously hadn’t given up.
And he admired her.
Did she admire Gabriel? She didn’t know. He’d proven himself kind and solicitous and generous, but he’d also kept a pawnbroker’s change.
She hadn’t slept in more than a day. She was so tired and confused and dizzy. Her knees still shaky, she stood and walked to the other tree, putting the bench between herself
