Page 16 of To Steal a Kiss

“I don’t know,” she ground out, sounding as though her teeth were clenched. “That’s why I’m asking.”

Nate folded his arms and glowered. “I kissed her, or rather she kissed me. That was the point of the exercise, wasn’t it?”

Somehow, he just knew she was narrowing her eyes at him, despite the shadowy interior where he could hardly make out his own hand when the moon disappeared. Thank God for that. His sister could read him far too well. Best to get this interrogation over now, under cover of darkness, or else she’d skin him alive.

“You were alone with her for an awfully long time, just for one kiss.” The accusing observation hung in the air between them.

Nate closed his eyes as he remembered. Oh, God. It hadn’t been a long time. Not nearly long enough. It had flown, delicious seconds speeding past him before he’d had time to fully appreciate them. How, in the name of everything holy, had that woman never been kissed? It was a crime of epic proportions. His body was still alive with the touch of her hands on him, with the feel of her under his own, with the taste of her on his lips.

Barley sugar.

He smiled.

“Well?”

Nate jolted again. Damn it, keep your wits about you. “Well, obviously. You roped me into the business because she’s so bloody shy, didn’t you? She needed a little time, a little… persuasion.”

“Persuasion?” There was a sharp edge to his sister’s voice now. “What kind of persuasion?”

“The kind you asked me for,” he replied, exasperated now and a little offended. “You wanted me to charm her, to make her feel good, to give her confidence… didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Matilda replied, grudging but accepting. “Yes, I suppose I did. And… did you? Give her confidence, I mean.”

Good God, if he’d given her any more confidence, he had no idea where they might have ended, the things they might have done. Desire pulsed through him, and he suppressed a groan. What wouldn’t he give to be back on that balcony now? A tiny shiver of fear rolled over him as he realised he didn’t much like the answer to that. He wondered if this was what opium addicts felt, this all-consuming need. How could he feel this way, be this affected by a kiss? It had been no ordinary kiss, though. He’d felt nothing like it in his life before.

It had been like putting a match to dry tinder, the tiny curling flame catching hold and setting a blaze capable of devastating a landscape. Just how much of herself had Alice kept hidden all these years? How had she suppressed all that… that fire? He felt changed by it, scorched and charred at the edges, and desperate for more.

He remembered her hair, the soft, thick coils that slid through his hands like silk. Even under the silvery light on the balcony he could tell it was red, red as flame, fierce as passion, heat, and sinful things that spelled danger in bright, bold letters.

Matilda had said Alice was meek and frightened and cowed, and at first, he’d believed her. Not now. Not for a moment. Matilda didn’t know her. No one knew her, if that’s what they thought. She was funny and beguiling, surprisingly bold with a little encouragement, and he’d wanted to stay with her so badly, to know her better. After her initial hesitation, she’d come alive in his arms and he’d been lost in hers. A few pretty words and a kiss, Matilda had said.

Just one kiss.

He’d been irritated when she’d said it. It’s never just one kiss, he’d said. God, he’d not understood just how true that was. That one kiss had seared him to his very soul.

“Nate?”

Unwillingly, he dragged his thoughts back to his sister.

“You’re in a very strange mood, Nate. Are you sure you’re being honest with me?”

He folded his arms, feeling belligerent and aggravated. This was all Matilda’s fault.

“Yes, I gave the requisite amount of confidence,” he snapped, knowing he sounded like a sulky boy and quite unable to do a thing about it. “She ought to be more than capable of ensnaring herself a suitable man now.”

The idea made him angry. Why the devil had he been put to work in such a way? He felt like a goddamn fool, something that had been used as a temporary measure until someone more worthwhile came along. God forbid anyone would think of him as worthwhile. No doubt Miss Dowding wanted better than him. A stab of pain and envy jabbed at his chest.

His thoughts ground to a halt. Good heavens. What the devil was the thinking? Miss Alice Dowding was in search of a husband, and there was no way that would ever be him. The very idea! He’d dreamed of such things once, a long time ago, but he’d been a different man then, a boy. Such foolish fancies had passed him by.

Hadn’t they?

Nate went hot and cold in quick succession and sucked in a breath. The image came to him of a family home in Kent, one he’d known well once upon a time. The picture became clearer as he studied it, of the sunny room that overlooked the gardens, and waking to find Alice beside him in the morning, with a tumble of fiery curls on his pillow.

The sensation of something being profoundly changed in him was impossible to ignore. It left him shaken and unsettled, and he didn’t like it one bit. One thing was for certain. That glorious blaze of red hair really did spell danger, and he must stay far, far away at all costs.

***

24th June 1814. Baker Street, London.