Lady Rosabella's Ruse - By Ann Lethbridge Page 0,79
fixed on her face. Seductive. Tempting.
Not to be outdone, when he had finished drinking from his glass, she held her goblet to his lips. His eyes danced in appreciation as first he took a sip and then she drank.
‘Bravo,’ he murmured in her ear.
A shiver ran down her spine at the wicked sensation.
‘Ready to eat?’ he asked.
‘I’m famished.’
He lifted the covers from the plates the servants had set in front of each of them. Oddly, his plate held only cuts of meat and hers only an assortment of vegetables.
He grinned when she gave him a puzzled sideways glance. ‘I call this déjeuner au médiéval. Watch what I mean.’ He carefully cut a portion of chicken breast, then held it up to her mouth.
‘Oh,’ she said. And he popped it in.
He cut another piece for himself.
She cut up a carrot braised in butter and fed it to him. He dragged it off the fork with strong white teeth. Somehow it seemed sumptuously decadent, to be fed and to feed. There was also laughter when they tried the peas and ended up scattering them all over the floor. He dived for a rescue.
‘I’ll request no peas next time,’ he said, getting up from his knees after chasing one of the recalcitrant vegetables under the table.
‘Asparagus works best,’ she agreed, holding one of the delicate shoots out to him by a thumb and forefinger.
He bit all the way down it, reaching her fingers, then pretended to take a bite of her thumb.
She laughed.
He popped a mouthful of roast beef in her open mouth.
‘Mmm,’ she protested. When she finally managed to swallow both her laugh and the meat, she shook her head at him. ‘Not so fast. Do you want me to choke?’
A look of mock consternation crossed his face. He placed a hand over his heart. ‘Not before our wedding night.’ His face turned serious. ‘I never want any harm to come to you.’
Her heart gave an odd little bump. It was as if it had stopped for a moment, then started again, but out of rhythm. Her insides felt suddenly loose. Welcoming. Heat rushed to her cheeks. ‘I’m glad to know it,’ she said with mock severity, hiding her wanton reaction.
He held his glass to her lips once more and she drank deeply this time. He finished the wine, knocking it back with practised ease. He looked down at their plates. Very little remained. ‘Are you ready for dessert?’
‘I thought that was me.’ Good Lord, was this really her, this bold flirtatious woman? And was that a flush of pride she felt at his sudden boyish laugh and the flare of heat in his gaze?
She liked him so much more when he lost his cynical expression. Affection filled an empty space behind her ribs. She leaned forwards and landed a clumsy kiss on his cheek.
In an instant, he caught her close, turning his head to capture her mouth. His kiss tasted of red wine. His arm around her shoulder felt strong and manly; the touch of his knuckles on her cheek was tender. Something inside her seemed to settle, the way a cat sprawls out in front of a fire. She felt comfortable. Warm. Welcome.
Slowly he let her go, an expression of awe on his face. Or was it simply pleasure? It fled so fast she could not be sure, especially not when he turned away, removed the remains of their feast to the tray side table and lifted the last two covers. Beneath one was a mound of strawberries. The other hid a dish of cream and a bowl of sifted sugar.
‘Now how does this work?’ she asked.
His eyes were laughing with genuine amusement. ‘We could try sipping the cream and then eating a strawberry before we swallowed.’
‘A disaster worse than the peas in the offing.’
He grinned. ‘You’ve tried it before.’
Scandalised, she laughed. ‘Certainly not. Why don’t I dip a strawberry in the cream and sugar for you, and you do the same for me?’
‘They look so good, why don’t we do it at the same time.’
She smiled and nodded. ‘Why not?’
It was harder than it sounded. Trying to bite a strawberry while aiming for the other person’s mouth at the same time. The fruits were particularly large and when she bit into the second one he gave her, the juice ran down her chin.
He licked it away.
His tongue felt delicious on her skin, a sensual sensation low in her core. Her eyelids drooped.