neck into his hair.
The day had darkened, and the narrow way they’d entered was darker still, the buildings closing in on them. Rain pattered against windows and splashed onto the cobblestones. He didn’t know where he was. It didn’t matter.
He brought his hands up to cup her face. In the doorway’s shadows, her eyes were unreadable, but he wouldn’t have understood, in any case. “This is confusing.”
“I’m so proud of you,” she said. “And now I’m in love with you again, and that won’t do at all.”
Happiness broke out, like an inner burst of sunshine.
“It will do very well.” He kissed her all over her rain-slicked face, again and again—cheeks, eyelids, eyebrows—and pushed her bonnet back to kiss her forehead. He covered her lips with his, and savored the softness and welcome he found there. So little and yet so much.
He’d waited for what felt like forever and he expected to wait another forever. But for now, he let himself grow drunk on the feel of her mouth under his. Her mouth, so soft and full and so free with words plainly spoken. She kissed in the same direct way. She let out a quick, impatient sigh, and her tongue flicked over his lips.
His heart lurched and he forgot any good intentions he might have had. He let her in, and the world went away. Her mouth was cool and sweet, like the river at Camberley Place in springtime. Like that place it felt like refuge, home, belonging, and he hungered for it. Within, he was never quiet, it seemed, and now, his feelings a rioting mob, he longed for the sanctuary she seemed to promise. She was the storm and the haven from the storm, this unpredictable and passionate woman.
He slid his hands down her neck, where the lacy collar tickled his fingers, then down over her shoulders, her arms. They weren’t swallowed up in immense pillowy sleeves today. No enormous lapels or layers of lace concealed the womanly curves. He slid his hands over her breasts, all too firmly encased in bodice and undergarments. What lay beneath was velvety and warm, he knew. He knew what her skin smelled like: lavender and rosemary and Cassandra.
She made odd little sounds, and pressed herself closer. She dragged her hands over his shoulders and arms, over his back, and down, pulling him to her. He brought her as tightly against him as he could, his swollen groin pressing futilely against layers of skirt and petticoats. His hand slid down over her skirts, following the line of her hips. Her legs, her long legs. He’d let his hands slide over her riding dress that time and they itched now for more: garters to untie and silk stockings to slide down and soft skin to caress.
He grasped her skirt, and started to pull it up. Rain splashed onto the back of his leg, and through the uproar consuming him, reality intruded. He remembered where they were.
Somewhere in Holborn. Standing in a doorway in a maze of streets and lanes and courts and alleys. A public place.
It was raining. He remembered the rain in Putney, beating down in the courtyard. He remembered waiting. He’d been waiting for her . . . for how long?
He’d have to wait longer still. But not too much longer, he hoped.
He brought his hands back to her waist. He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers. “Wait,” he said. Gasped.
“Yes.”
They remained that way, forehead to forehead, while rain cascaded from the building above and splashed up from the pavement.
“We can’t,” he said.
“I know. But I love you madly at this moment.”
“I know. Hard not to. So lovable.”
She drew back and looked up at him. “You knew what to do.”
“In a doorway? With a beautiful girl? What half-wit doesn’t?”
“In Bleeding Heart Yard.”
“Obvious.” What he wanted at this moment was not to think about what he’d seen and what he’d felt. His world was unraveling.
“No, it wasn’t,” she said. “Not to do it perfectly, as you did. Oh, Juno, I could slap you from here to Land’s End. All these years. I knew you had it in you. But you are the most aggravating man.”
“Does that mean you don’t love me anymore? That didn’t last long.”
“Ashmont, for heaven’s sake.”
“Did I get a point, in any case?”
“I am greatly tempted to strangle you.”
She pulled away and straightened her bonnet. Not very well. He tried to push her hands away, so he could do the thing properly, but she jerked away