pinned up?”
“Yes, though I must admit I have no skill with hairdressing. It’s a very simple knot.”
He would have liked to let her hair down, feel it cascade over his skin. Regardless of the color, it was soft and smelled faintly of cinnamon.
He’d saved the best for last because he’d needed to gather his fortitude. His fingers moved back down her face, over her temple and her cheek to her jaw. It was a well-defined jaw and, he soon discovered, a fairly pointy chin. Then his hand moved up to touch her lips.
She inhaled slightly when she realized his intent. He heard her catch her breath and he hoped the sound was more from desire than discomfort. His index finger moved higher until he touched skin so tender it must be her lips. Like the rest of her skin, they were soft and pliant. He tried to learn their shape, finding them not too thin and not too plump, but a shape he could well imagine kissing. “I want to do more than hold your hands,” he said again, brushing his thumb over her lips to make the point clearer.
“Mrs. Blimkin,” she murmured.
“Is obviously a very poor chaperone.”
“She doesn’t have much experience.”
He leaned closer, so close he could feel her warm breath against his own lips. “How fortunate for us.” He slid his hand to the back of her neck, his fingers grazing the small tendrils of hair too fine and short to be caught in her updo. And then he leaned down to press his mouth to hers. He could not see details and fully expected to miss her mouth or catch only the side of it, but she adjusted her position and met him halfway, so their lips brushed together.
A flicker of heat coiled in his belly and spread through his torso and out to his limbs. It had been so long since he’d felt anything other than numbness that the sensation was odd and unfamiliar at first. But as her lips touched his, he realized what it was. Desire. The feeling was faint. It was like a vine pushing out of a seed and through the darkness of the soil above it. But he knew it was there. He knew he was capable of the feeling. Somewhere, under the pain and sadness and hopelessness, were the beginnings of life.
She pressed her lips against his, turning the brush of skin against skin into a real kiss. Contrary to his concerns that he’d scare her away, she was taking the lead. Miss Howard had been kissed before. Her lips parted slightly, just enough that he might taste her, and it was clear she hadn’t just been kissed. She knew how to kiss.
His heart began to pound and needs he had not acknowledged, had not known he still had, began to claw their way from the depths of the dark place he’d pushed them. Her arms went around him, and her body met his. He could feel her small, firm breasts against his chest. His hand on the nape of her neck tightened as he struggled to control the emotions swirling inside him. He hardly knew how to feel. He felt too much, and it threatened to overwhelm him.
Nash pulled back, breathing hard, grasping the table with both hands to keep from tumbling backward. He was dizzy and perspiring. His heart hammered as though he were being fired upon by the French. He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe deeply, to feel his feet planted firmly on the floor, to slow his heartbeat. After a moment, he realized Miss Howard was speaking.
“—shouldn’t have done that. I am so sorry, Mr. Pope. I don’t know what came over me. Are you well? Do you need some wine or a cold compress?”
He reached out and felt for her hand. She took his, holding it firmly. Her touch anchored him, calmed him.
“Don’t apologize,” he said, his voice coming out gruffer than he’d intended. “I mean, there’s no need for apology.”
She was silent, and he could all but feel her grasping for words. Of course, she felt she needed to apologize. He was practically in a full-blown panic. How could he explain?
“I didn’t expect to...” he began. Then he cleared his throat, felt for the chair behind him, and sat.
“Here.” She placed a glass in his hands, and he drank the water like a man who has just finished a long run.
“Thank you. Miss Howard?” He tried to focus on her, but