her fevered frame, cradling her in his embrace.
Edith rested her forehead on his chin, her hands sliding from his hair down to his shoulders, gripping him for balance as they breathed in the silence together.
“I have wanted to do that for so long,” he finally said, his voice unsteady.
She chuckled in a low tone. “Really? You didna say anything about it.”
He snorted softly, and his hold tightened. “In case you haven’t noticed, I am not the most sociable person.”
Edith pulled back a little and smiled at him. “No, I suppose not. How long?”
He returned her smile, his eyes warm. “Since that blasted waltz. It was infuriatingly short for what I suddenly wanted, and I was so used to not feeling anything for a woman that it took me by surprise.”
She moved her hands back to his neck and gave him a look. “You did a fair job of hiding it.”
His smile turned quizzical. “Have you never wondered why I was always around when you were in need? I don’t have perfect timing; I was quite simply unable to stay away.”
Her ignited heart began to dance at his words, and she had to fight to swallow. “And now?”
His eyes somehow grew darker and elicited a shiver that brought her closer to him still. “And now, I refuse to stay away. I don’t care what you or anyone else says, I will defy all expectations and societal dictates. I will dance only with you, call you Edith in public, and probably stare at you for an inappropriately long time, as nothing else is worth looking at when you’re there. And I will kiss you again and again, as often as I can.” As if he needed to emphasize the point, he did so again, and it was gentle, long, lingering, and tempting beyond reason.
Incineration would be her constant state for the foreseeable future.
When she was able, she swallowed again and pretended to be unaffected. “And what am I to do?”
He sighed and touched his forehead to hers. “Let me? Encourage me if you like. Tease me, so I don’t lose myself. And call me Graham. All the time.”
“Your Christian name?” she asked, eyes wide.
He nodded against her, brushing his nose against hers. “Try it.”
Face somehow flushing further still, toes curling, her fingers began to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Graham,” she repeated softly.
He groaned a deep sigh and kissed her. “Nothing should sound that good,” he whispered.
There was nothing to do but tremble at such a statement, and Graham held her closer, his lips grazing and dusting where they would.
Eventually, they made their way back down to the others, though Edith was unable to focus on anything except his proximity to her. With every clash of their eyes, her stomach curled most disconcertingly, her lips tingled with exhilarated memory, and her body shook, remembering the warmth of him, the hardness of his chest, and the strength of his arms.
As if he knew, Graham smiled a slow, heated, devilishly attractive smile at her each and every time.
Chapter Seventeen
There is something to be said for comfort. There is some debate as to what it is that should be said specifically, but surely something should be said.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 27 June 1815
Graham was whistling as he ambled through the family wing of Merrifield. Whistling. He didn’t think he knew any song well enough to whistle it, but here he was. Whistling.
Edith had done this to him. There was no other possible excuse.
He smiled to himself as he thought of her, images running through his mind from the evening before. They had been partnered for cards and had spent the entire evening giving each other meaningful looks while touching their feet together beneath the table. And the night before, they had been incapable of staring at anyone else during the musicale.
Of course, that had been the evening after they’d kissed.
His chest tightened to a mixture of pleasure and longing at the memory, and his pace quickened. The morning was almost completely without structure today, one of the first in the entire house party, and he knew exactly how he wanted to spend it. And with whom.
“Going somewhere, Gray?”
He barely paused as he glanced over his shoulder at Eloise. “Yes. The library.”
Eloise frowned as she came out of her rooms, folding her arms over her shawl. “The library? Gray, you have guests. You should be spending your time with them, not on your own, alone with the books.”
Graham grinned, raising a brow.