Page 37 of Dare it all for Love

Henry turned to see the comte had discovered the large stained-glass window on the south side of the building. Evie made an exclamation of delight and hurried after him, leaving Henry alone with Florence.

“I don’t like him,” Florence muttered.

“The comte?”

She tsked and gave him an impatient glower that made him want to smile. “Mr Oak!”

“Sterling’s a good fellow. He’s just a bit brusque, that’s all. He’s not used to the company of ladies. Spends most of his time with cattle or crops.”

“Hmph.”

“You look very beautiful, Florence.”

Her cross expression melted at his words and a tinge of colour touched her cheeks.

“I’m surprised you noticed,” she said, diffident now.

He made an incredulous sound, wondering how she could be so foolish. “You must be fishing for compliments, Miss Knight, for I do not believe you are unaware of the effect you have on me.”

A smile tugged at her mouth, but she struggled to meet his eyes.

“The feeling is mutual,” she said quietly, glancing up at him.

Henry’s mouth was suddenly dry, the desire to kiss her so strong that he ached with the need to reach for her. The way she was staring up at him now was a clear invitation to do so. Henry glanced across the galleried landing to the comte and Evie and muttered a curse. Oh, to the devil with it. He grabbed Florence’s hand and dragged her with him, around the corner and along a corridor, snatching at the first door he came to and flinging it open. Henry pulled her inside and closed the door.

She stood staring at him, breathing as though she’d run for a mile.

“Well,” she said, impatience ringing out in her words. “Are you going to kiss me or not?”

Henry gave a huff of laughter. “God, you’re bossy.”

Florence nodded. “I have opinions, too. Lots of them.”

She held his gaze, defiance burning in the green of her eyes.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said, excitement thrumming beneath his skin. “What is your opinion about the fate of young women who enter bedrooms with unmarried men?”

She looked around, her eyes widening as she noticed the large four poster bed.

“I did not realise it was a bedroom,” she retorted.

“Would it have made a difference?”

There was a brief pause.

“No,” she said, and reached up, sliding her arms about his neck and pressing closer.

“Are you certain this is what you want?” Henry asked, wishing that hadn’t sounded so damned hopeful.

There was something hurt and vulnerable twitching anxiously inside his heart that wanted him to turn away from this, from her, before she had the chance to answer, to damage him all over again.

“Henry,” she whispered, a thread of helpless laughter in her voice.

He lowered his mouth, so close their breath mingled. “Are you certain?”

“Yes,” she murmured, brushing her mouth against his, unaware of how that brief touch made need and desire hit him with such force he almost staggered under the impact. “Yes, Henry. Yes, please. I’m very certain this is what I want.”

Thank Christ for that.