He had read her mind.
She swallowed hard. "Maybe."
"I thought so." He eased open the top button of his shirt. And the second button. "I think we should practice," he said conversationally.
Her gaze was glued to the little V of golden skin where his shirt was unbuttoned. "Practice?"
"Yes, practice." He raised a wrist and unbuttoned a cuff. "You and me. Before I try it with Lady Amanda."
"You want to kiss me?" He couldn't. He shouldn't.
"Just for practice. Come here, Juliana."
His deep, chocolatey voice made another shiver ripple through her. The butterflies fluttered faster. He wanted to kiss her. Just for practice, but still…
James wanted to kiss her.
She wasn't supposed to kiss James—she was supposed to kiss the duke. But the duke had made it clear he wouldn't kiss her until they were married. He was so very, very proper. And Aunt Frances thought a kiss no great sin, and Corinna had told her she should kiss a few frogs so she'd know when she'd met her prince.
Not that James was a frog. He was…well, she didn't know what he was, precisely. A friend, she supposed. A friend who was rolling up his cuffs, exposing his muscled forearms to the innocent eyes of the last unkissed woman in all of England.
And unbuttoning the buttons that ran down the front of his waistcoat.
Dear heavens, if she didn't kiss him soon, he'd end up naked in the middle of Vauxhall Gardens.
"Very well," he said softly as the waistcoat fell open. "If you're not going to come to me, I will have to come to you."
And he did. He walked right up to her. She backed up, and he followed. She moved until her back was against a tall, fragrant hedge, and he followed until he was all but against her. Until there was a hairsbreadth between them, until his scent of starch and soap overwhelmed her, until her body tingled and the butterflies threatened to break free.
He was so close she could see golden flecks in his brown eyes. So close she could feel his breath upon her face. So close she found herself straining to get still closer.
"May I kiss you?" he asked, settling his hands on her shoulders.
She couldn't say yes and she couldn't say no. But she tilted her chin up, wondering, waiting, her heart pounding and her eyes drifting shut.
It was an invitation, albeit a silent one.
An invitation he accepted.
His hands drew her closer, then slipped down around her and pulled her closer still. His lips grazed hers, just a hint of a caress that left her desperate for more.
"May I?" he asked again in a husky whisper.
"Oh, yes," she whispered back, the words seemingly torn from her throat.
And his mouth settled warm upon hers.
It was a divine sensation, more lovely than she'd ever imagined. She swayed against him, feeling his hard body through her thin dress and his muslin shirt. She slid her hands beneath his loosened waistcoat and all the way around to his back, his muscles rippling under her fingers.
He slanted his head, changing the angle of the kiss. She felt as though she were melting, as though she couldn't tell where her lips ended and his started, as though she'd become a part of him.
And then he pulled back. Her heart still pounding, she opened her eyes and sighed. She wanted his mouth on hers again. It was a beautiful mouth, a sculpted mouth, the lower lip fuller than the top one. Above it, his eyes looked as dazed as she felt, warm pools of chocolate with golden flecks.
James was the handsomest man she'd ever seen.
She'd known he was handsome, of course. She'd told Amanda as much, many times. But his handsomeness had been just a fact like so many others. James was handsome. Corinna was a good painter. Griffin had been in the cavalry. All facts.
But now…
She looked at James. Really looked at him, seemingly for the first time. And what she saw made her want him to kiss her all over again.
She rose to her toes, and he met her halfway, crushing his mouth to hers. Not warm and caressing this time, but hot and demanding instead. His lips coaxed hers to part, and his tongue slipped inside, and it was shocking and exciting. Soft, slippery, sweet, tasting of the claret they'd sipped with supper. She was floating, whirling, she'd have spun right off her feet if he hadn't been holding her so tightly. One hand pressed the small of her back while the other drifted up to cradle her head, adjusting the angle so their lips meshed even more closely.
"Juliana!" It was Aunt Frances, her voice distant but recognizable. "Juliana, where are you?"
"Bloody hell," James grated out, breaking the kiss.
"Dear heavens!" Juliana stared at him a moment while her head cleared. He was standing there with half of his clothing unbuttoned. Aunt Frances was about to find them, and he was just standing there, unbuttoned.
"Dress yourself!" she hissed.
His fingers moved to the buttons of his waistcoat and began fastening them leisurely.
"Juliana!" her aunt called again.
She ran to the pocket garden's entrance and looked out onto the path. Frances was nowhere to be seen, thank heavens.
She turned back. "Hurry," she told James. "It's only a matter of time until she finds us."
Unrolling one of his sleeves, he shrugged and sauntered back to the bench, where his cravat lay atop his tailcoat in a jumbled pile. "Do I kiss better than Castleton?"
"I haven't kissed Castleton. He's too—"
"Stuffy?" he provided, looking all too pleased at that news.
"He's not stuffy! He's just—"
"A prig."
"He's not a prig! He's proper and reserved, which is more than I can say for you."
He grinned. "That's more than I can say for you as well. Which is a recommendation, to my mind—"
"Juliana!" Lord Malmsey's voice joined her aunt's this time. "Juliana!"
She peeked outside again. Still clear. Her heart pounding, now from panic instead of passion, she stalked over to James.
