Page 91 of A Match of Misfortune

“I do not doubt it. Your family will miss you dearly.”

“Will you?” he asked, taking a few steps toward her and making Cecily tremble at his proximity. “Miss me, that is?”

“I suppose.”

The corners of his lips twitched. “You suppose?”

She gave a small lift of her shoulders, as though uncertain what else he wished to hear.

His fingers settled on her arm, then trailed downward to her hand in a way that made her focus on her breaths so she would not forget how to draw them in. His eyes fixed on hers. “I shall miss you terribly.”

She needed to get ahold of herself and her emotions before they got the better of her. “Perhaps you could find distraction with Mr. Crauford’s daughter and her fiery personality.”

He smiled at Cecily’s attempt. “Unfortunately, there is only one lady capable of distracting me,” he said, bringing his other hand to her other arm and running his fingers across her skin in a most pleasing manner.

No! Not pleasing. It was… Absolutely intoxicating.

He drew another step closer. “And that is you. You are the lady I have a particular interest in.”

Her heart reverberated through her, and without thinking, her gaze fell on his lips. This was all too familiar. Six years ago, she’d been in this very room. With this very man. With very similar desires. But exactly like then, Nash was leaving. Perhaps this time she did not wish him to go, but it did not matter. She had spent the last six years thinking of how close she’d come to kissing Nash. Of what it would have been like had he not pulled away. But to actually share a kiss with him—to have a memory of his lips beneath hers—it would break her in his absence.

With one imperceptible breath to steady herself, she pulled back her shoulders. There was only one way she knew of to triumph over her wayward yearnings, and that was turning the tables on Nash. “And what is it about me you find so distracting?”

He smiled, clearly welcoming the invitation. “Everything.”

She tilted her head. “That sounds rather vague.”

“Let me be more specific, then.” He did not cower in the least. “It has become a most tiresome task forcing my gaze from your fine form, and I can’t seem to stop thinking about how perfectly my hands would fit upon your waist.” At that, Nash’s bandaged hand settled on that very spot while the other traced the contours of her neck. “Or how desperately I want to run my fingers along your skin.”

At his touch, a tingling sensation radiated over Cecily’s entire body, holding her in place and staying her tongue. She should stop him, or she’d risk her heart breaking more intensely when he left. And yet, she already knew she wouldn’t.

“There’s the mesmerizing velvet brown of your eyes. The angle of your nose.” The side of his bent finger moved downward from her brow and came to a stop just above her lips. “And your lips.”

Cecily stilled, even her breaths refusing to come.

His thumb brushed across her mouth, nearly causing Cecily’s heart to stop all together. “Your lips have filled my thoughts for far too long.”

The wall around her heart came crashing down. Or maybe it was the wall guarding her good sense. She could scarcely tell in her current state. “Would you like to kiss me?” she whispered, hardly shocked to find that she was not asking in jest. She wanted him to press his lips against hers. She wanted to feel the warmth of them and finally know what it was like to kiss Nash Markham.

“More than anything.”

She closed her eyes in acceptance. Instantly, her mind conjured those same aggravating moments from years ago, when she’d waited in vain for his lips to find hers. A wave of nerves, or perhaps rationality, coursed through her. Without another thought, she withdrew a step.

His eyes opened and fixed on her.

She attempted a teasing smile, hoping to lessen his dismay as well as conceal her own growing disappointment at her retreat. His eyes searched hers momentarily, as if attempting to decipher what it was she truly wanted. Then he tightened his grip at her waist and pulled her against him. His lips were on hers before she even processed what had happened, and it only took an instant longer to fully succumb to his kiss. To allow her lips to grow supple and soft beneath his. Nash’s arm wrapped around her, drawing her closer, and she reveled in it. And in how perfectly she seemed to fit against him. In how safe and treasured she felt in his arms. For all her consideration and endless speculation of what it would be like to have kissed Nash, never had she expected it to be this. So entirely blissful and … perfect.

A loud knock sent Cecily springing from Nash’s embrace, though Caldwell already stood on the threshold with a silver tray in hand. “Forgive my interruption. Had I known⁠—”

“No need to apologize,” Nash said, waving him inside. The only hint of his embarrassment was a slightly heightened color in his face. Though Cecily supposed that could also be an effect of their kiss. Her whole body flushed at the reminder of what had just happened between them. “We were just employing one of the advantages of betrothal. At least we hope that is one of them. No one really ever clarified what they were specifically.”

Cecily’s cheeks burned crimson.

“Yes, well …” Caldwell rarely displayed any sort of emotion, but with the way his cheeks shook with repressed amusement, she was certain he was going to have a good hearty laugh about this later. She just hoped it would not be with the other servants. Or with Mr. and Mrs. Markham. His gaze shifted to a spot on the wall just behind them. “The post has arrived. There is a letter for you, Mr. Markham, and one for you, Miss Bradshaw.”

The tray held several letters, but Nash’s and Cecily’s had been placed on top.

Cecily retrieved her letter, but her gaze stopped on the pink paper of the letter in Nash’s hand, trying not to be overly curious who it could be from.