Page 2 of A Midwinter Wager

Washe going to kiss her?

A door opened nearby, and a shadow flickered across the dim beam of light filtering into her room from the passageway. She pressed her fingers against Fitz’s lips, staring at the doorway and listening intently.

After a moment, she relaxed. “That was close,” she whispered. “What if Alicia had come in and discovered us like this?”

“You’d have been compromised, and I’d have to marry you.”

“Don’t jest. I know you’ve no intention of doing that.”

“How so?” His blue eyes were very dark as he looked at her. “Have I ever said as much?”

Her heart battered at her chest again and she floundered in a welter of confusion. She’d never dared dream Fitz might consider marriage.

He retook her hand, brushing firm lips across her knuckles. “It’s difficult now, I know, as you have your father to look after, and your grieving young stepsister, and I’m off next year, to take up my commission. That’s why I’ve held my feelings in check. But there’ll come a day when nothing need keep us apart. Why should I not marry my closest female friend? Our parents would see great advantage in it, I’m sure. We’d suit, you know. In more ways than you can imagine.”

She blushed. She could imagine more than she cared to admit—her mind was already roving along forbidden paths. What would it be like to be wedded to Fitz? To be bedded by him? How would it feel to run her hands up underneath that nightshirt, to smooth her fingers over his hot, firm flesh?

“I’m going too fast for you—I sense it,” he said.

Wrong.But she didn’t know how to explain her feelings, or how to ask for what she wanted. “Not at all—”

“It’s all right. I won’t make any promises now, not when I’m going to be away for Lord knows how long. I’d rather leave you unmarried and eligible, than widowed and bereft. Assuming you’d be mourning me, of course, if I fell on the field of battle.”

Thatthrew a bucket of cold water on her burgeoning passion. “You know I would. But surely, you’ll be going on a peacetime mission? Oh, Fitz—I do wish I could tell when you’re joking and when you’re not.”

“You usually can.”

“Not about something as important as marriage. Or death.”

“I would never joke about those things,” he said, raising her knuckles to his lips. “And I’m in deadly earnest when I say I’m going to spend the rest of tonight in torment, knowing you’re a-bed just a few doors away, looking so ravishing.”

Damn the man! Had he no idea how alluring he looked right now? Before, she’d loved him as a friend. Now, he was a potential lover and husband. Now, bidding him farewell would hurt more than she could bear.

He released her hand. “You’re cold—I shouldn’t keep you up. Lie back, and I’ll tuck you in.”

“I’m not a baby,” she complained, sliding down in the bed.

“Obviously not,” he said, leaning over her, and pinning her beneath the covers. “You’re a woman, and thus much harder to please. Which is why I’m leaving nothing to chance.”

His hair tumbled forward, brushing against her forehead as he brought his head down to hers. His lips pressed against her mouth.

Oh God, how she longed to hold him! She was desperate to dig her fingers into his hair, grasp his head and increase the pressure of the kiss, but he held her captive, forcing her to play by his rules.

He let out a ragged breath, then increased the pressure, and she felt the moist heat of his tongue as it swept the seam of her lips, tasting her.

She parted her lips, and his tongue darted in, hot and hungry, plundering, exploring.

His body pressed down upon hers in the bed, strong and powerful. But the sheets and counterpane lay between them, a shield against impropriety.

Hischoice.

For now, she must be satisfied with just a kiss, even though the heat of it spread through her veins like brandy, igniting pools of lust that made her writhe beneath him. Suddenly he pulled away, breathing hard.

“Forgive me.” He backed away and knelt by the bed, but the hint of triumph on his face belied his words. “I told you we’d suit,” he added.

She’d prefer it if he didn’t think or talk—just kiss her again until she’d had enough. Which would be never.

“Regrettably, I ought to go,” he said, getting to his feet and moving toward the door.

She supposed he ought. Though if he were to stay, would anyone know? But just as he was reaching for the doorknob, a floorboard creaked in the passageway beyond.

“Is someone out there?” she hissed. Like Alicia, for instance? Her stepsister loved spying on people.

Holding his candle aloft, he opened the door and looked out. “No, don’t worry.” He turned back to look at her, his face weirdly shadowed as the candle flame guttered in a draught. A frisson of unease skittered up her spine. Then he shot her a smile that scorched away all doubt, and left.

She lay back in the bed, hearing nothing but the pulse of blood in her ears, and the galloping of her heart. Fitz wanted to marry her. Surely this, too, had been a dream, no more real than the flames around the bed.

Then something hit the wall with a thump, followed by the crash of breaking china in the neighboring bedchamber. Alicia’s. She was quite clearly awake, and in a fury. How much had she heard of Cesca’s conversation with Fitz?

Whatever she knew, or thought she knew, she would take straight to Papa. In short, Alicia’s spite could ruin everything.