scattered. His breath rushed past her face and she drank it in. Beneath her clothing, she could feel her body changing. She wanted him, and him alone. Desire heated her lungs, and she struggled for air as his hand slid around her waist. He held her close.
“By staying here, he will have a hard time separating his personal involvement from his investigation.” His eyes roamed her face from temple to chin, finally settling on her lips.
Please, she prayed, let him kiss me. Her tongue darted out, dampening her lips and igniting a hunger in his eyes. His head moved closer, closer. If she did nothing, then their lips would touch. Mary Rose held her breath, less than an inch remained between him and his goal. She felt her body arch as his fingers pressed against her spine.
“You see how it is, my sweet. One taste of heaven and you’d be undone.”
God, he was right. Her hands moved toward his shoulders as she levied pressure against those bands of steel. “Let me go,” she demanded.
He chuckled and closed the gap. She struggled against him. His arms held her tight. The pressure of his lips bruised until she opened her mouth and let his tongue ravish her. The hands that pushed against his body now pulled him tighter against hers. She practiced returning his tongue strokes until neither of them could breathe. Only then did he release her.
“We, we can’t be caught doing that,” she whispered. “People will talk.”
He shook his head. “My dear Irish Rose, people are already talking. You just haven’t been listening.”
She felt his thumb graze the side of her cheek. “I should be mad at you.”
“But you aren’t.”
Her chin trembled. Afraid to talk, she shook her head.
“Hm, perhaps not anymore.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
The simple gesture soothed her battered feelings. She closed her eyes and thought of nothing but the experience of his lips upon her skin. The thump of boots in the stairwell drew them apart. She turned away, brushed her hair from her face, and tried to calm her racing heart.
“Ah, Captain. Your wife is resting?” Trace asked.
Pulling herself together, Mary Rose took a deep breath and turned toward the men.
“She is, indeed,” the captain replied. His glance moved from Trace to her and back. "The heat bothers her in this condition."
“While you are over at the sheriff’s, I’ll keep an eye on her as I prepare dinner,” she said.
“The usual time?” Trace asked innocently enough.
She nodded, then stopped. "No, with the heat, shall we push it back a bit? Why not come back around dusk. It will be cooler. Shall we say, seven?" She cast a glance to the captain, then to Trace.
He stepped back to her and took her hand. “Agreed. I shall be here at seven or a little after. Shall we go, Captain?”
Penny’s husband glared at her before preceding Trace to the doorway. He opened the door and moved onto the porch as Trace, right behind him, asked, “So when do you expect to welcome your child?”
“Sometime in the early fall.”
Mary Rose stood listening to the men as they moved away, the door closing behind them. Turning on her heel, she walked to the mirror behind the front door and gazed at her lips swollen from Trace’s ardent ministrations. Yes, there was even the flush of a woman in heat around her eyes. No wonder the captain had stared. She closed her eyes in defeat. Trace had been right all along. Anyone could see she was now a woman in disgrace. She had fallen for a man who believed in honor but not love. The farce of an engagement was still on.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Mary Rose stroked the knife across the potato, pulling the red skin away from the white flesh, and fantasized peeling Trace’s shirt from his body. She thought about the deep tan of his skin, how when she kissed it the other day it left a tang upon her tongue. With a sigh, she dropped the potato into the pot and reached for another.
“That sounds like the sigh of a woman in love.”
Her eyes widened. The potato fell from her hand, and the blade nicked her finger. “Ow,” she cried and stuck her finger into her mouth.
“Oh, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Penny moved forward. “Let me see.”
“It’s nothing,” she mumbled.
Penny gave her a deep look. Mary Rose removed the finger from her mouth and held out her hand.
“Just a little cut.” Penny smiled.