He rose to his feet and his body tightened as that particular smile struck him low in his gut. It was a long time since a decent woman’s smile had made his body stir with such enthusiasm. He was usually too busy thinking of ways to avoid their company in case they decided to pursue him in earnest. A proper gentleman would kiss her cheek, compliment her cooking, thank her for her kindness and trek out in the wind and the snow. But this evening he wasn’t feeling much like a gentleman. Not even close. He wanted more.
She gestured for him to sit, but instead he took her trembling hand and gazed down into her extraordinarily expressive eyes. ‘The girls are settled?’
She released a long breath. ‘Yes. Diana is already asleep.’ Her expression became serious. ‘I had a wonderful time this evening. You are so kind to the girls.’
Only one reason would get a red-blooded male to play spillikins with a couple of schoolgirls after dinner. Getting closer to their mama. He wouldn’t be merely not good, he would be a thoroughgoing scoundrel if he took advantage. ‘Thank you for a most delicious dinner. I enjoyed myself immensely.’ He spoke the truth, when a dalliance required innuendo and lies. ‘I will treasure the memory.’
He saw when she realised he was saying goodbye. And the disappointment in her face wrenched sharply at something in his chest.
‘Of the singing, no doubt,’ she said, her voice teasing, but her gaze suspiciously bright.
Inexplicably, his throat tightened. ‘Especially the singing.’
Fingertips on her cheeks, aware of the softness of her skin, the delicate warmth and the scent of roses, he turned her face up. Waited one heartbeat and yet another, for the smallest sign of protest, then touched his lips to her full luscious mouth. She melted into his kiss, encircled his shoulders with her arms and returned his gift with undeniable enthusiasm.
A pang caused his breath to hitch.
Regret that there would not be more than kisses if he was indeed still a gentleman.
Slowly, carefully, he put his arms around her, drawing her inward, caressing her back, learning the length of her spine, the dip of her waist, the way her ribs expanded and contracted, pressing her lovely full breasts against his chest. She was a bundle of feminine charm, this woman in his arms. Enthusiastic and…lacking in any sort of female wiles or defences. She was all that was good and wholesome in the world, like beeswax candles and the honey she had put in his tea after dinner. And for a man whose recent interactions with women rarely involved kissing, the feel of her lips on his was blissfully erotic.
Whatever gentlemanly inclinations he might aspire to slipped from his grasp.
Cassie loved his heavenly kisses. A feast for the senses. Dizzying.
Never before had she been so much as tempted by a man. The thought of where such temptation might actually lead had her going hot and cold in terror mingled with longing. Certainly there had been none of this heady passion in her marriage.
Did he sense her fear? He held her carefully against him, tenderly, giving her not the slightest alarm. Letting her know she could break free any time she wished. She should wish. A kiss under the mistletoe was one thing, but this was very different. This was the opening move in a dance of which she had little knowledge, except to recognise the tune.
She pressed a hand flat against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingers and his strength. He could crush her if he had a mind to do so, but she had no fear of that. Nor would he decimate her with cruel or disdainful words.
Intimacy with this man would be a memory to cherish, since she had decided for the girls’ sake she would never wed again. How could she exchange them for the doubtful privilege of becoming a man’s chattel, to be tolerated only as long as she was of use?
Slowly, reluctantly, he broke their kiss and gazed into her eyes. An unspoken question. Her face heated. Training warring with temptation. Inside she trembled, knowing he would not do anything without her permission. He began to withdraw.
Fingers shaking, she pressed her hand against his cheek. The delightful warmth of him infused her with courage. She leaned into him, kissed him back, tentatively at first, brushing his lovely mouth lightly with her lips. His guttural growl of approval gave her the courage to taste him with her tongue. His lips parted and, heart thumping, she delved deeper. He tasted of wine and honeyed tea. The scent of him, something darkly spicy, sandalwood, filled her nostrils and she inhaled deeply, savouring a perfume she would remember all of her days.
He encircled her in his arms, tangling his tongue with hers, until she could no longer think of anything, only feel the blood humming in her veins, the tingling in her fingers and toes, the heaviness in her breasts.
The hand on her back moved in circles, comforting and caressing. The other caressed the dip of her waist, the curve of her hip, in respectful delicious strokes. Never had she felt so female, so womanly, so sensually alive. So desirable.
He drew back with the slightest of sighs. Resignation. Regret. He gave her a small half smile. ‘As pleasurable as this is, you strike me as a woman not in need of added complication. You deserve far more than I have to offer. I’m sorry.’
Idiot. He was too kind to hurt her feelings with the truth. He didn’t want her in that way. A well-set-up man like him no doubt had all sorts of women with whom he could choose to be intimate. He’d come to dinner out of politeness and she, an ungainly lonely widow, had thrown herself into his arms. He must think her so pathetic. The cold chill of shame spread outwards.
She pinned a bright smile to her lips. ‘I will bid you goodnight, then.’
She bustled about, fetching his hat and gloves from the peg behind the door. ‘You must be looking forward to seeing your family. It is always good to be with loved ones during the holidays,’ she babbled, urging him towards the door. ‘I don’t expect I will see you again, before you leave,’ she said briskly, ‘so I would wish you a safe and pleasant journey.’ She risked a glance at his face. His expression gave nothing away.
He took her hand and bowed low. ‘Thoughts of you and your kind welcome into your home will keep me warm on the journey, Mrs Melford,’ he murmured as he brought her hand to his mouth. He brushed her knuckles with warm dry lips. She drew in a quick startled breath and he let her hand go.
‘Mrs Melford. Cassie—’ He shook his head. ‘Please, give my best wishes to Miss Lucy and Miss Diana.’ He stepped out into the night. Snowflakes whirled around him. And then he was gone, nothing left to show his presence but large bootprints in the snow. Those, too, disappeared quickly.
Her heart thundered in her ears with embarrassment at how forward she’d been. She had shocked him with her wanton behaviour. By seeking more, she had lost his friendship.
Regret was an aching sadness.
Overnight, the countryside had turned pillowy and white while the skies continued to threaten more snow. Cassie picked her way to the potting shed after spending the morning with the girls on their lessons. Forcing herself to think of nothing but the task at hand, she took down the candle racks, avoiding a glance at the mistletoe hanging from the beam. She separated each pair of candles by cutting the wicks in the middle. Against her will, her mind wandered back to the one person she should not be thinking about. The sweetness of his kisses. His honourable behaviour in light of her brazenness.
Any woman would count herself lucky to be married to Adam Royston. She suffered a pang at the thought of him taking a wife. She had no right to think that way. No reason, either.
She glanced out of the window at Diana and Lucy scampering about in ankle-deep snow making what they had ambitiously named a snow dame.
She heaved a sigh.