Page 61 of Courting Elizabeth

I closed my eyes for a second.

She continued before I could draw back.

“But I am drawing closer to you. Every day. Tonight, when Mrs Harcourt spoke of my family, I was not afraid of her judgment. I only feared her words would make you regret your choice.”

“Never.”

“I know that now.”

Her thumb caressed my cheek.

“And that matters more than I know how to say.”

I took her hand and kissed her palm.

“I can wait for the words.”

“Even a long time?”

“Not with grace.”

She smiled.

“I would not trust too perfect a patience.”

I leaned down and kissed her.

The kiss should have been brief. It became slow, deep, fueled by desire held in check all evening. Elizabeth slipped her arms around my neck. I pressed her against the balustrade, conscious of the music behind us, the guests only yards away, the constant possibility of being discovered.

The nearness of danger made her mouth more eager.

My hand slid down her back, then to her waist. I felt the boning of her stays beneath the fabric.

“I hate this dress,” I murmured against her lips.

“Five minutes ago, you found it magnificent.”

“It conceals you too well.”

“Its principal purpose.”

I kissed her below the ear. She stifled a sigh against my shoulder.

Voices approached from the hall.

I drew away with regret.

Elizabeth adjusted a glove and looked at me with a calm belied by her reddened lips.

“You appear very satisfied,” she said.

“My wife has just told me that my way of loving deserves my pride.”

“Your modesty will never survive this evening.”

“It was never very robust.”

We returned to the ball separated by a proper distance.