Fitzstuart had shaken her well-ordered world as if it were a mesmerizing show globe. Afloat in a sea of colored liquid possibilities, she came to the realization that this impromptu visit to George Romney’s studio was turning out to be the most exciting night of her staid life. Nothing ever happened in her day-to-day existence that was not sanctioned by convention, considered acceptable, peaceable and safe for the unmarried granddaughter of a peer.
And now here she was in the arms of the handsomest, most wicked war hero of the age. What should she do? She knew what she wanted to do, but it was contrary to everything she had ever been told or taught. What was that saying Cedric Pleasant used at every opportunity… Carpe … Carpe—Diem . That was it! Well, she would seize it and the consequences could go hang!
What was the harm in a single simple kiss? One kiss and she would know one way or the other if kissing was overrated. She had never been kissed, and certainly never in the way females wished to be kissed by handsome men, ardently and without restraint. While alone in her Pinery one day, she had allowed herself to daydream about kissing, the mechanics of a kiss, and how it must make a person feel. She concluded that if two people thought about it before committing to the act, they would not do it. Her daydreaming had led her to completely cover a maturing pineapple plant with tanner’s bark, until the gardener alerted her to her abstraction. Two people with their lips pressed together? What was so special about that…?
He was so warm and so—so male . He smelled of pepper and musk, and—freshly squeezed limes… Fascinating how the skin on his face appeared smooth and yet, when she rubbed against it in an upwards motion, his chin was rough, like the sharp punched points of her grandfather’s silver nutmeg grater… His nose really was large and beak-like. She’d noticed that about him before… And his eyelashes… They were quite long and dark… She was sure her lips were swollen… He tasted salty and delicious… Had the windows been closed on the night air and a fire started in a grate…? She was suddenly hot and heady, and there was a tingling sensation, more a pulse, somewhere…
Oh my!
It had never occurred to her that to truly enjoy a passionate kiss, their mouths must open. It was so— decadent . And he was so— delicious . She pressed herself against him, wanting more and not wanting him to stop. She wanted everything about the moment to be burned into her consciousness: His warm hand cupping her bottom; the feel of him large and bare, pressed up against her; his fingers entwined in the hair at her nape, tied with a lavender satin bow; and the wondrous way he kissed, as if he truly, fervently desired nothing and no one more than he did her.
Oh how easy it was to spiral into erroneous belief. And all it took was one kiss…
I F R ORY WAS disconsolate to have their delightful kissing interlude brought to an abrupt end by the snapping of the curtain rod, she was shocked into speechlessness when she landed, straddling him, a disheveled wreck. Never mind she might have broken ribs. She knew she was bruised from head to foot from being tumbled and crushed under him as they rolled across the stage and then landed on the floor. And when they came to a crashing stop he just lay there on his back laughing, and so heartily that she bounced on his abdomen.
But the tumble jolted her awake to her behavior, and all she could think about was setting her clothes to rights and getting away from him as quickly as possible. She had to distance herself before Drusilla and Mr. Watkins discovered her whereabouts, and before Grasby realized his little sister had seen him drunk and disorderly, cavorting with females of low repute. But what could she tell them had happened to her? Her panniers were twisted and broken, the buttons and strings that gathered her petticoats into a polonaise had snapped, and the material
And now here she was in the arms of the handsomest, most wicked war hero of the age. What should she do? She knew what she wanted to do, but it was contrary to everything she had ever been told or taught. What was that saying Cedric Pleasant used at every opportunity… Carpe … Carpe—Diem . That was it! Well, she would seize it and the consequences could go hang!
What was the harm in a single simple kiss? One kiss and she would know one way or the other if kissing was overrated. She had never been kissed, and certainly never in the way females wished to be kissed by handsome men, ardently and without restraint. While alone in her Pinery one day, she had allowed herself to daydream about kissing, the mechanics of a kiss, and how it must make a person feel. She concluded that if two people thought about it before committing to the act, they would not do it. Her daydreaming had led her to completely cover a maturing pineapple plant with tanner’s bark, until the gardener alerted her to her abstraction. Two people with their lips pressed together? What was so special about that…?
He was so warm and so—so male . He smelled of pepper and musk, and—freshly squeezed limes… Fascinating how the skin on his face appeared smooth and yet, when she rubbed against it in an upwards motion, his chin was rough, like the sharp punched points of her grandfather’s silver nutmeg grater… His nose really was large and beak-like. She’d noticed that about him before… And his eyelashes… They were quite long and dark… She was sure her lips were swollen… He tasted salty and delicious… Had the windows been closed on the night air and a fire started in a grate…? She was suddenly hot and heady, and there was a tingling sensation, more a pulse, somewhere…
Oh my!
It had never occurred to her that to truly enjoy a passionate kiss, their mouths must open. It was so— decadent . And he was so— delicious . She pressed herself against him, wanting more and not wanting him to stop. She wanted everything about the moment to be burned into her consciousness: His warm hand cupping her bottom; the feel of him large and bare, pressed up against her; his fingers entwined in the hair at her nape, tied with a lavender satin bow; and the wondrous way he kissed, as if he truly, fervently desired nothing and no one more than he did her.
Oh how easy it was to spiral into erroneous belief. And all it took was one kiss…
I F R ORY WAS disconsolate to have their delightful kissing interlude brought to an abrupt end by the snapping of the curtain rod, she was shocked into speechlessness when she landed, straddling him, a disheveled wreck. Never mind she might have broken ribs. She knew she was bruised from head to foot from being tumbled and crushed under him as they rolled across the stage and then landed on the floor. And when they came to a crashing stop he just lay there on his back laughing, and so heartily that she bounced on his abdomen.
But the tumble jolted her awake to her behavior, and all she could think about was setting her clothes to rights and getting away from him as quickly as possible. She had to distance herself before Drusilla and Mr. Watkins discovered her whereabouts, and before Grasby realized his little sister had seen him drunk and disorderly, cavorting with females of low repute. But what could she tell them had happened to her? Her panniers were twisted and broken, the buttons and strings that gathered her petticoats into a polonaise had snapped, and the material
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