Living London - By Kristin Vayden Page 0,38

taking in the scenery. Morgan was easy to converse with. The butterflies in my stomach came from attraction, not anxiety. It was a pleasant change from the nearly constant stress of playing the part I had been thrown into. His charm made me blush, but his humor shined. Walking with him, feeling the strength of his arm under my hand made me feel so secure. I didn't want the experience to end.

At that moment, a fat raindrop landed on my cheek. I looked up at the sky, and a sister raindrop landed on my nose. "We'd best head back, and I'll take you home," he said as a drop landed on and slid down his freshly shaven cheek.

After a few steps, the rain began to come down in earnest, and by the time we were halfway to the carriage torrential rain fell from the sky. We tumbled in, sopping wet and with mud covering our shoes. I glanced up at the sound of suppressed laugher. Morgan was desperately trying to hide his mirth as he boldly took in my disastrous appearance. When I narrowed my eyes, he tried to cover his laugh with a cough, but failed. "You're right. The wet dog look, as you put it, can't be pulled off with grace."

I reached over and smacked him on the arm, giving him my best glare, but I couldn't hold it and a bright grin broke through, followed by a fit of giggles. He looked so cute; no longer the rake saying seductive words in a closed carriage, but the boy next door, the kind a girl could have a crush on her whole life. His normally tousled hair was plastered to his head and sent rivulets of water down his face. His blue eyes twinkled with mischief, and his impeccable cravat and waistcoat were ruined. I'd never seen him look better. Too bad I looked like a wet dog.

"Well, I guess that's what I get for being honorable," he commented, still grinning.

"Hmm? Ahh, yes, in efforts to save me from yourself, you instead try to drown me. How gallant."

"I do try."

"You succeeded. Good thing I hated this hat."

At my statement, he broke into a laugh. "Yes, I'd say its days are over." The hat was skewed from its perch atop my head, and the feathers drooped miserably. I reached up and tried to unpin it but couldn't. Libby must have used industrial-strength glue to keep it formed to my head.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, I slouched into the seat as much as possible in a corset and silently cursed all hats. It was making my head itch.

Seeing my frustration, Morgan reached over. "Allow me." He began to extract the hat from my head with gentle tugs, releasing the pins with efficient motions.

"I think you might be better than my maid," I commented, wondering how he had amassed such a talent at something so intimate.

"Sisters. I may not have many, but all you need is one." He paused after taking out the last pin. "To learn things you find astoundingly helpful at times like this." He removed the hat from my head and set it down on the seat across from us. "Better?" he asked, his voice soft.

"Much, thank you." My answer came out breathy. He was so close, and I could smell the cloves-and-honey scent I remembered from the other night. Somehow the rain had made it fresher, stronger, and I found myself leaning in.

"Miss Westin?"

"Mmm?" My eyes closed as I inhaled the scent I'd forever associate with rain, kisses, and carriage rides. Everything I'd always associated with London — carriages, romance, even rain — were becoming irrevocably welded with this man. Who knew falling in love could be so frightening? If he broke my heart, I'd never survive. I'd see him everywhere and remember his scent whenever it rained.

But those thoughts faded as quickly as they'd assaulted me when his lips graze my jaw line. His touch was so tender, so achingly alluring. I wanted more but didn't want to miss each sensation his touch ignited within my body.

"Jocelyn," he murmured as his lips traveled down my neck to the sensitive spot just above my shoulder. The sound of my name whispered against my skin sped up my heart to racing. I wondered if he could feel my pulse, tattle-telling on my body's response.

His nose was cool as it traced across my throat onto the other side of my neck. He pulled down my dress just enough to