regard for her own health, and finding men who were both careful and game was difficult.
"Of course you should," he said in a soothing voice, clearly doubting her. Which would have made her determined to find the next man she could and bed him, but for some reason she'd lost interest in it. She was having a great deal more fun arguing with Simon Pagett.
"I must compliment you on your new taste in clothing. Lady Whitmore. The subdued colors bring out your beauty far more than the garish ones you chose before."
"I have no interest in your sartorial advice, Vicar," she said, ignoring the rush of pleasure. "You gave me no warning—my maid packed whatever was clean."
"Of course," he said in an infuriatingly calm voice, and she was determined to go upstairs and see if ham-handed Meggie was capable of immediately cutting down the necklines of her demure dresses.
She glared up at him.
And then she found she had to laugh. "You really are the most annoying man in Ihe world, aren't you?"
He smiled at her then, and the world seemed to shatter and split. "So I've been told."
She stared at him for a moment, unable to come up with a single word, as something inside her began to melt.
She panicked, though she wasn't quite sure why. "I wonder, though..." she said in the drawling voice she used to such good effect.
He looked at her warily. "Wonder what?"
"Are all men the same? Even those who've found God?" she mused.
He was very still. Like a fox, she thought, afraid a bitch had caught his scent.
"How do you mean? I can assure you I sleep better at nights. I'm happier."
"You don't strike me as particularly happy. As for nighttime sleeping situation, my thoughts were running more along those lines."
"Of course they were," he said, and there was no sling in his wry voice. "If this is your tactful way of asking me about pleasures of the flesh, I can assure you that becoming a vicar didn't castrate me."
"I'm soooo glad to hear it," she cooed. "Monty told me you'd taken a vow of celibacy, and I didn't know if that was out of necessity or inclination."
"Montague has been way too free with his tongue," Simon said, clearly annoyed. "If you're so interested. Lady Whitmore, I can tell you that I haven't taken a vow of celibacy. I've simply decided that I've fornicated enough outside of the marriage vows."
"You have plans to marry then?" she asked brightly, ignoring her inner pang.
"Not at this point." He looked at her for a long, hard moment. "I may change my mind.” She breathed an unobtrusive sigh of relief, emboldened. "Be certain to invite me to the wedding. I give wonderful presents."
"If I marry, Lady Whitmore, you'll definitely be there." There was an odd note in his voice, one she couldn't decipher.
She was feeling restless, edgy, and it was a shame Charlotte wasn't there to stop her "So, has your vow of celibacy... I beg your pardon, I mean your informed decision., .affected other things?" She moved closer, so close that her hooped skirts swayed against his dark-clad legs.
He stood his ground. "What other things?" She wasn't actually touching him, but she was acutely aware of him. His lean, wiry body, his narrowed eyes, his mouth. He really had the loveliest
"Like kissing," she said. And she slid her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth against
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She expected him to freeze. To stand there awkwardly while she kissed him, to shy back in horror as she teased him with her tongue, to lecture her on her impropriety while she laughed at him.
He was just inches away from her body, and his lips were motionless against hers. He reached up behind his neck and caught her wrists, pulling them down, and she knew a moment's melancholy And then a moment later he pulled them around his waist, yanking her up against him, and he was the one who used his tongue, deepening the kiss, pushing her mouth open.
She was so astonished she could do nothing but cling to him, reveling in the feel of his hard, warm body up against hers. And hard it was. Most of the men in society were soft, pampered. He wasn't.
He was strong, and determined, and she closed her eyes, her head falling back against his deliberate onslaught.
There was nothing hurried, nothing rough about his kiss. Once he took charge he took his time, slow and steady, kissing her with a thoroughness that left