Page 40 of Courting Elizabeth

“Is that possible?”

“I intend to try.”

“You refused detachment this morning.”

“I am not detached.”

I lifted my hand to her face. She leaned her cheek slightly against my palm, a movement so trusting it took my breath away.

I stroked her skin with my thumb.

“Elizabeth.”

“Fitzwilliam.”

I leaned down.

The first touch was softer than anything I had imagined.

Her lips were warm, motionless beneath mine. I brushed them once, then again, learning their shape with a patience that cost me dearly. She inhaled through her nose, her hands still clenched on her dress.

I pulled back a few inches.

“Breathe.”

She opened her eyes.

“I was breathing.”

“Barely.”

“So were you.”

“I have more experience.”

“That's an irritating thing to say.”

“It had the desired effect.”

Her indignation chased away some of her fear. I smiled, then claimed her mouth again.

This time, she responded.

The movement was hesitant but deliberate. She raised one hand and placed it on my shoulder. I felt her fingers through my coat as if they were touching bare skin.

I slipped my other arm around her waist.

She moved closer.

The gentleness vanished.

I pressed my lips more firmly against hers. When they parted, I tasted the spiced wine she'd drunk before dinner and something that was hers alone. A soft sound hummed in her throat.

All my restraint wavered.

I pressed her back against the bookcase—not roughly, but without leaving her room to ignore the effect she had on me. Her body molded to mine. She felt my desire; I knew it from the sudden stillness of her hands.

I broke the kiss.