gaze. He was dressed impeccably, wearing evening finery as if he were attending a social engagement rather than meeting his lover for dinner and an evening of lovemaking.
Relief washed over her as she stood. “How long have you been standing here, listening to me play?”
“Not nearly long enough.” The smile he gave her was one of frank admiration.
He stole her breath. Made her heart pound. Turned her knees to pudding.
“Pray do not flatter me with unnecessary praise,” she said softly, moving toward him of her own accord. “I know I require a great deal of practice. I allowed far too long to lapse. Now, I find myself wanting to bask in all the things I missed.”
Like making love to the most handsome gentleman she had ever met.
“You play beautifully.” He moved to her and took her into his arms, holding her as tightly as if it had been an eternity since he had last seen her rather than that morning.
She clutched him to her as well, inhaling deeply of his masculine scent. Loving the imprint of his large, lean body against hers. “Not as beautifully as you do.”
He kissed her cheek, then pressed his forehead to hers, rubbing his nose along hers in tender fashion as his hands gently stroked up and down the small of her back. “Nonsense. You do not give yourself enough credit, Hyacinth. Not nearly enough. Forgive me for my tardiness this evening, please.”
His admission had her tipping her head back to study his face, to search his stare. “You are forgiven, Tom. You owe me nothing.”
But as she said the words, and even as she acknowledged their truth, she hoped he would confide in her. They were friends, after all, were they not? Unlikely friends. Friends who knew each other intimately. But still, friends.
“My Grandmère paid an unexpected call,” he said, a line furrowing his forehead that suggested the unexpected call had not entirely been a source of joy.
“Did she smell of the unguent I made you for your scratches?” she teased, opting for levity.
“No.” Tom flashed her a smile that made her want to kiss him. “You must also forgive me for being a curmudgeon about your salve. It worked marvelously.”
She nodded, pleased that the unguent had done its job but still curious about the general air of disquiet surrounding her lover this evening. “Her call was not entirely pleasant?”
“She harangued me.” Tom winced. “She reminded me of my familial obligation to marry. She disapproved of my former romantic entanglements, I am afraid.”
Of course he would be expected to marry. The reminder ought not to cause Hyacinth’s stomach to clench. Nor should the reference to his romantic entanglements. Yet, somehow both did.
It was the first time he had directly mentioned the woman to whom he had been betrothed. Hyacinth could not quell her curiosity. “All your romantic entanglements? Or just one?”
Tom sighed, the sound weary, making her regret her questions. “Just one.”
He said nothing more than that. Two words. Two words that told her far more than they should. He was not ready to speak about his past with the woman he had loved. Hyacinth knew she should not be hurt at all. She had only known him for days. Their relationship was, by its nature, finite. Intended to be grounded in pleasure and freedom. There were not meant to be chains or any of the specters of their pasts weighing them down.
But still, she would be deceiving herself utterly if she said she did not know a sudden stab of envy. What manner of woman must she have been, the woman who had been fortunate enough to win Tom’s heart? Certainly, she had not been deserving of him.
So Hyacinth decided to chase away the heaviness of the moment the only way she knew how. She wanted to erase the worry lines from his forehead, to banish the shadows from his eyes. Rising on her toes, she pressed her mouth to his.
Tom wasted no time in responding. He kissed her back, ardently. Masterfully. He kissed her so thoroughly that all her doubts and worries, including the envy she felt for his former betrothed, fell away. And all she could do was feel. Bask in the wonder of this moment, this man with his arms wrapped around her, his lips moving over hers.
Because there would come a day when he was no longer hers. When she was no longer free to touch him and kiss him and lie naked in bed with him. Which meant