Read Online In the Wake of the Wind by Katherine Kingsley - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Katherine Kingsley
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dug in her bag and brought out a bottle and a spoon. “Open wide, dearie, and it’s no good making a face. A little valerian root is just what you need. Very calming.”
Serafina suffered the tonic, wishing nothing more than to be left alone. She’d rarely felt so shaken. She climbed into the carriage and stared out the window, trying to concentrate on her upcoming meeting with Aiden.
But she couldn’t get the kiss or the man who’d bestowed it on her off her mind. When she’d come suddenly awake and seen him kneeling in front of her she truly thought she still must be dreaming. And yet he was far more real than any dream, so solid, all flesh and blood and magnificently shaped muscle and bone and height and breadth.
She felt horribly ashamed of herself. It was bad enough that she’d thought him beautiful, bad enough that she’d actually enjoyed his company. But that she had sunk so low as to enjoy his kiss—that was the worst, most appalling thing of all.
He was lucky she hadn’t slapped him senseless, she thought rebelliously. She ought to have done. It would have given her immense satisfaction to see her handprint on his lean cheek, proper payment for having caught her by surprise and taken his advantage.
He was probably a master at seduction—he’d practically said so. She’d certainly unwittingly succumbed to his charms, not even knowing she was being seduced, silly girl that she was. In her own defense she hadn’t been around men other than the vicar and Tinkerby in a very long time, so how was she to know how they went about such things?
This man had seemed perfectly pleasant, perfectly safe, not inclined to do anything dangerous or unsettling. He had even been helpfully informative, telling her everything she wished to know in a most satisfactory manner, confirming her highest hopes. He’d made lovemaking sound glorious, a true joining of heart and body, and it really had been most obliging of him to offer the information simply because she’d asked, and in such a straightforward fashion.
It was such a relief to finally know, and she would have been grateful to him if he just hadn’t grabbed her at the last moment and—and kissed her like that.
But oh, how she had felt when the rogue’s mouth had come down on hers, his fingers pressing lightly behind her ears, his body hard and strong against hers, the rapid beating of his heart matching the sudden pounding of her own. For one split second she’d been lost, ready to throw away everything, even her impending marriage, just to have more of him.
Abandonment was a sensation she’d never felt before, not even while dreaming. Dreams and reality were two entirely different things she’d just discovered, as different from remembering a beautiful song as to actually singing one. For a moment she’d felt as if the Dream had never existed, as if it were no more than a gossamer thread that had bound her hopes together for so long, something insubstantial, insignificant in the face of a real mouth on hers, a real body pressed against her own.
Serafina stared out the window, unable to enjoy the scenery, knowing she’d unwittingly betrayed the man she was about to marry. She tried to pull the Dream into her mind, tried to remember Aiden’s face, the look of love on it, but she couldn’t bring the image into focus. Instead, all that met her inward gaze was the rogue’s glossy black hair, his brilliant blue eyes, the dark eyebrows slanted like a satyr’s above them.
Oh, how appropriate, she thought angrily, wondering if satyrs also had such broad shoulders and sculpted cheekbones, such full, beautifully shaped mouths that knew how to touch in that tantalizing fashion.
Serafina put her head in her arms and shuddered in self-loathing. Eleven years of waiting for Aiden, never mind a number of lifetimes, all spoiled by thirty minutes in a forest with a complete stranger.
Townsend’s front door was the most enormous door Serafina had ever seen. The
Serafina suffered the tonic, wishing nothing more than to be left alone. She’d rarely felt so shaken. She climbed into the carriage and stared out the window, trying to concentrate on her upcoming meeting with Aiden.
But she couldn’t get the kiss or the man who’d bestowed it on her off her mind. When she’d come suddenly awake and seen him kneeling in front of her she truly thought she still must be dreaming. And yet he was far more real than any dream, so solid, all flesh and blood and magnificently shaped muscle and bone and height and breadth.
She felt horribly ashamed of herself. It was bad enough that she’d thought him beautiful, bad enough that she’d actually enjoyed his company. But that she had sunk so low as to enjoy his kiss—that was the worst, most appalling thing of all.
He was lucky she hadn’t slapped him senseless, she thought rebelliously. She ought to have done. It would have given her immense satisfaction to see her handprint on his lean cheek, proper payment for having caught her by surprise and taken his advantage.
He was probably a master at seduction—he’d practically said so. She’d certainly unwittingly succumbed to his charms, not even knowing she was being seduced, silly girl that she was. In her own defense she hadn’t been around men other than the vicar and Tinkerby in a very long time, so how was she to know how they went about such things?
This man had seemed perfectly pleasant, perfectly safe, not inclined to do anything dangerous or unsettling. He had even been helpfully informative, telling her everything she wished to know in a most satisfactory manner, confirming her highest hopes. He’d made lovemaking sound glorious, a true joining of heart and body, and it really had been most obliging of him to offer the information simply because she’d asked, and in such a straightforward fashion.
It was such a relief to finally know, and she would have been grateful to him if he just hadn’t grabbed her at the last moment and—and kissed her like that.
But oh, how she had felt when the rogue’s mouth had come down on hers, his fingers pressing lightly behind her ears, his body hard and strong against hers, the rapid beating of his heart matching the sudden pounding of her own. For one split second she’d been lost, ready to throw away everything, even her impending marriage, just to have more of him.
Abandonment was a sensation she’d never felt before, not even while dreaming. Dreams and reality were two entirely different things she’d just discovered, as different from remembering a beautiful song as to actually singing one. For a moment she’d felt as if the Dream had never existed, as if it were no more than a gossamer thread that had bound her hopes together for so long, something insubstantial, insignificant in the face of a real mouth on hers, a real body pressed against her own.
Serafina stared out the window, unable to enjoy the scenery, knowing she’d unwittingly betrayed the man she was about to marry. She tried to pull the Dream into her mind, tried to remember Aiden’s face, the look of love on it, but she couldn’t bring the image into focus. Instead, all that met her inward gaze was the rogue’s glossy black hair, his brilliant blue eyes, the dark eyebrows slanted like a satyr’s above them.
Oh, how appropriate, she thought angrily, wondering if satyrs also had such broad shoulders and sculpted cheekbones, such full, beautifully shaped mouths that knew how to touch in that tantalizing fashion.
Serafina put her head in her arms and shuddered in self-loathing. Eleven years of waiting for Aiden, never mind a number of lifetimes, all spoiled by thirty minutes in a forest with a complete stranger.
Townsend’s front door was the most enormous door Serafina had ever seen. The
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