Page 67 of A Much Maligned Miss

“Changed my mind?” she echoed blankly as his thumb brushed against her waist.

“About us marrying,” he clarified, his lips close to her ear.

“Oh, that!” she said and watched in the mirror as a brief look of annoyance crossed his face.

“Yes, that,” he echoed. “Sorry if I’m laboring the point.” There was a faint edge to his voice that made Caroline’s stomach drop.

“Oh, you’re not, Gervaise,” she said quickly, turning so she faced him. “Indeed, I never meant to seem ungrateful.” She gazed up at him, her hands creeping up to grasp his forearms. “Don’t be cross with me, please. Indeed, I mean it for the best, truly I do.”

For a moment he gazed down at her. “You make it difficult for me to be cross,” he answered with a wry twist of his lips, and Caroline beamed up at him in relief.

“I’m glad.”

“Hmmm. I’m not.”

It crossed her mind that he might like to be placated with a kiss. Why was it so much harder to be daring by daylight? she wondered. Ridiculous to turn squeamish now. Squeezing her eyes shut, she surged determinedly upward to press her lips against his own. Perhaps not surprisingly, her aim was off, and the kiss landed clumsily.

She heard his swift inhalation, before he turned his head and remedied the situation, his lips chasing her own. Caroline slid her hands up his arms, until she gripped his shoulders rather like she had on that terrace when they had danced the Viennese waltz. She felt almost as dizzy. Was it possible to become drunk off kisses, she wondered, swaying in his arms. He tightened his grip of her, holding her close, and Caroline wrapped her arms about his neck.

He lifted his mouth away from hers far too soon. “Caroline…” he murmured reproachfully.

“Mmm, yes?”

“You should not kiss me in that exciting fashion once we are fully dressed. It is not fair.”

“Really?” Instead of pointing out that her own kiss had been nothing at all, and he was the one who had deepened it, Caroline gazed up at him foolishly. Oh dear, he was terribly handsome. Who was she trying to fool? If he wanted to put his face between her thighs again, she was going to let him.

She might even beg him to, if she was not careful.

“Stop staring at my mouth like that,” he added sternly.

She felt herself color guiltily. “Sorry.” But when she tried to remove her hands from neck, he made a disapproving rumbling noise in his throat. So, cuddling must be permitted, she decided, cheering up. “This is nice,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Hmmm.” He did not sound entirely sure, but his arms were locked about her, so she didn’t worry too much.

“What are you up to this morning?” she asked brightly, then wondered if she would be rebuffed.

He shrugged. “There’s some meeting I have to attend later with Ralph’s solicitor. The three of us need to sign papers, Ewell included, before we start trading.”

“I met Mr. Ewell yesterday.”

“Did you indeed?”

“Yes. He’s not at all what I imagined a champion boxer to look like.”

“Isn’t he?”

“Reg could make two of him.”

“In the ring, Barty Ewell would make catsmeat of Reg,” he answered dryly.

“Would he really?”

“So, don’t go falling for his dubious brand of charm.” She pulled back to look at him in surprise but before she could offer any assurances on that score, he released her. “Come to breakfast with me,” he said abruptly. “If you have not made any other plans that is.”

“Other plans?” she echoed, quite mystified. “Whoever would I have made other plans with?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Your artist perhaps,” he answered.