“Well, I do have a reason for wanting to have you to myself for a moment.”
At the teasing note in his voice, she looked up and saw him take a box out of his pocket. Her brain did giddy measurements: was the box small enough to contain…a ring?
Don’t be a twit, she chided herself. That isn’t just putting the cart before the horse; it is putting it in a different field entirely. Be grateful that he thought to bring you anything.
“This is for me?” she asked breathlessly.
“No, it is for the other chit whose birthday ball I am currently attending.” He aimed his gaze heavenward. “Go on, take it. Unlike you, I am not a spry young thing. My arm is getting tired.”
“You are hardly in your dotage,” she rejoined. “And what is the point of gaining all that muscle if you cannot even hold up a jeweler’s box?”
“Vanity, of course,” he drawled.
She snorted. “You are the least vain person I know. You don’t care what others think.”
He gave her a true gift then: his rare, slow smile. As a girl, eliciting that smile had always made her feel as if she’d won a precious prize. Now her chest squeezed with longing.
“I care what you think, Miss Argumentative,” he said. “Will you just open your gift?”
“I am not argumentative…” Scowling at his grin, she snatched the box from him. “Fine.”
“Ladylike and gracious.”
She resisted the urge to pummel him in the arm and instead opened the box. Nestled in a bed of white satin was a golden charm. She lifted it out: the miniature crown swung gently from its fine chain, the pavé diamonds on its arches sparkling in the moonlight.
“Zounds. How lovely.” Reverence hushed her tones. “You had this made for me?”
“A little crown for my little queen,” he murmured.
Her heart thumping, she tipped her head back to meet his gaze. She felt their connection: the unbreakable bond that had been forged in the icy waters of Scotland, that had grown stronger in the intervening years, and that now pulsed like a magnetic force between them. His unique wood-and-spice scent curled in her nostrils. Setting her gift on the bench, she took a step closer to him.
“Thank you, Hadleigh,” she said.
His eyes were as deep as the night. “It is just a trifle, but I am glad you like it.”
“Not just for the necklace, but for saving my life. If it were not for you, I would not be having a birthday,” she said tremulously. “You have given me far more than I can ever repay.”
“There is no need—”
“Even so, there is one more thing I would ask of you.”
“Anything.”
His immediate reply thrilled her heart.
“If it is within my power to give it to you, it’s yours,” he said solemnly.
Since it was easier to demonstrate what she wanted, she gathered her courage and rose onto her toes, pressing her lips to his. This being her first kiss, she wasn’t sure how to go about it. She just slid her gloved fingers into his thick hair and smooshed her lips against his.
For so long, she’d dreamed of kissing him, and the reality was even better than her fantasies. Everything about him felt right. Familiar yet new and exciting. The texture of his lips, hard yet velvety, made her feel swoony. She had a hint of his taste: darkly male and tantalizing. Oh, she wanted more. Overcome by giddy desire, she instinctively licked the seam of his mouth. He made a muffled sound, his arms closing around her like iron bands.
Their kiss caught fire, the new sensations incinerating her capacity for thought. All she could do was experience: the heat melding their mouths, the powerful sweep of his tongue, the intoxicating flavor of him saturating her senses. Squished against his hard chest, her breasts felt full and sensitive, the stiff tips chafing against her corset, setting off tingles of delight. Molten need gathered inside her. Mad with wanting, she moaned, rubbing herself against him, trying to get closer…
In the next instant, she was thrust aside. Her head spinning at the abrupt motion, she stared dizzily at Hadleigh’s stark features. His eyes blazed in the moonlight.
“What the devil was that?” he ground out.
She blinked, trying to clear away the haze of passion. He was…angry?
“You…you said I could have what I wanted,” she stammered.
“Bloody hell, Livy.” He dragged a hand through his hair, glaring at her. “Is this some sort of game to you, kissing unsuspecting men in the dark?”
“Of course not. I haven’t kissed anyone before. You are the first…the only one I want to kiss,” she said in a small voice. “I love you, Hadleigh. I’ve loved you for years. I want…I want to be yours.”
She realized then that she hadn’t truly seen Hadleigh surprised before. His gaze widened, and his jaw slackened in a way that would have been comical if her future happiness hadn’t been hanging in the balance. His chest heaved as he took a deep breath, then another.
Finally, he spoke. “You do not mean that.”
“Yes, I do—”
“No, you do not,” he said firmly. “You drank too much champagne, and it went to your head, that is all. We will forget this happened.”
“I only had half a glass of champagne. And I will never forget our kiss,” she vowed passionately. “It was everything I dreamed of…and you do not seem, um, unaffected.”
Although her cheeks burned, she directed her gaze to the front of his trousers, the crisp tailoring ruined by a rather large and interesting bulge. A virgin she might be, but she was not without knowledge of essential facts. Having spent time on her Aunt Violet and Uncle Richard’s stud farm, she understood the mechanics of mating and how offspring were produced.
Unfortunately, Hadleigh did not seem impressed by her worldly knowledge. He bit out an oath and tried to pull his coat over his protruding part…which he could not, since he was wearing a tailcoat. Swearing under his breath, he turned his back to her.
