She was about to ask what he meant, and how that could be at all possible, when his mouth grazed hers. A soft, searing brush that ignited a spark in her belly that fizzed up into her chest, loosening a gasp from her tight throat.
At first, she was too shocked to kiss him back, her entire being overwhelmed by the wildfire that coursed in her veins. She had imagined her first kiss often enough, in the safety of her daydreaming where no one could scold her or obliterate her reputation, but her romantic ponderings were nothing like the reality; they were not even close. It was magic made real, her whole body tingling, her senses heightened, her soul soaring.
As he caught her mouth with his once more in a guiding graze, her lips finally caught up with the daydream. Gripping his lapel tighter, she closed her eyes and kissed him back, sinking into the moment without hesitation. She could no longer think of anything beyond the press of his lips and the touch of his hands as they cradled her face, his fingers sliding into her hair.
Ifthiswas what he had wanted to apologize for, at great expense, then he could keep his apology. She did not need it. How could anyone regret something so extraordinary?
One of Edmund’s arms encircled her waist, as if to protect her from the press of the books. The kiss deepened, slow and tortuous in the best possible way, like a promise made without knowing if it would be kept or broken. As she kissed him back with equal fervor, she looped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.
The Continent must have changed him after all,she mused, deliriously. Before he went away, she would not have dreamed of kissing him. She would not have dreamed of willingly being in the same room as him, yet here they were, closer than they should have been, and her relishing every second.
He pressed her harder into the bookcase with the ferocity of his kiss, the air crackling around them. But he must have pressed her too eagerly, the bump of her back against the stacks releasing a book from high above.
It fell to the floor with a thud and, with that jarring sound, the spell broke.
Edmund halted, his lips absently finishing the kiss with a peck before he stepped away. In the candlelight, he looked pale and alarmed, staring at her as if he did not recognize her.
“As I said,” he murmured, smoothing his palm down the lapel she had been grabbing, “I must protect you from myself. Evidently, you are in greater danger than I thought.”
Isolde’s heartbeat wavered, her wide eyes narrowing. “Thatis what you have to say?”
“It is what must be said,” he replied firmly, all warmth and ardor gone from his voice. “I should not have done that. I should not have pursued you into a room alone, and I should not have taken you away from the Viscount of Mentrow. You should return to him now. Take your chance while he is amenable.”
He might as well have struck her with one of the heavy, leatherbound books that filled the shelves. In the span of a few seconds, she had gone from feeling like she could fly to feeling herself tumble unceremoniously back to the ground, and the landing was painful.
“What, did you just want to be the one to steal my first kiss before you pushed me off to marry the Viscount?” she rasped, hating the weak tremble in her voice. He did not have the right to hurt her like this.
He grimaced. “There was no premeditation, Isolde. Perhaps, there should have been, so I could have stopped myself.” He took another couple of steps away from her. “Iam to blame for this and, I assure you, it will not happen again.”
“I do not understand,” she urged, trying to reach for his hands.
He put them behind his back, shaking his head. “Do you remember when I told you that you deserve a gentleman who is worthy of you?”
“Of course I do,” she replied, her voice thick. “It was shortly before you almost kissed me. That has a tendency to stick in a lady’s mind.”
He met her wounded gaze. “And I said that being worthy of you is no simple matter. I said I doubt there are even five gentlemen in all of England who would be able to claim that title.” He paused. “I am not one of them, but the Viscount might be. So, go to him and pretend this never happened.”
“You think it is that easy?” she shot back, shaking.
“It has to be,” he replied, beginning to move away, toward the library door. “I am not even fit to be considered, Isolde, because I never plan to marry.You,however, are the sort of woman that any man would be lucky to call his wife. You want marriage, you want romance, you want your dream to be a reality, and that is why you must go. Now.”
She slumped against the bookcases, breathless and bewildered. What baffled her the most was that she had never seriously thought about Edmund as a possible husband, but now that he had said he would never marry, she felt a pang in her chest as if she had lost something. Was it just the sting of betrayal, of wasting her first kiss on someone who was not her husband? She did not know. It was too raw.
Edmund reached the door and opened it quietly, poking his head out to ensure that the coast was clear. That done, he looked back at her. “I will write to Vincent and inform him that my duties have come to an end. From now on, I will not be your guardian, I will not escort you to events, and I will leave you to find the happiness you deserve.”
With that, he left.
Surrounded by all of her favorite stories of romance, Isolde’s dream of having that for herself had never felt further away. Indeed, perhaps it was fitting that her name was Isolde for, at that moment, her hopes for love and marriagedidseem rather like a tragedy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Edmund strode out into the chilly night, the cool wind stinging his white-hot face. The night above was clear and star-draped, the swathes of that velvety dark bringing Isolde in that astonishing dress to his mind. Not that she showed any signs of leaving his thoughts.
He could still feel the press of her mouth against his lips, the desperate grasp of her hand around his lapel, the tickle of her fingertips on the nape of his neck as she had pulled him closer. It overwhelmed him to the point where he struggled to breathe as he hurried along, determined to get to his carriage and return to his townhouse before he changed his mind and went back to that library.
She will not be there. After that, she will never want to be in a room with you again.And that was what he wanted, was it not? She could be happy with Noah, and though it might pain him to see them together in Seasons to come, he had made his choice long ago. A choice that could not be changed because of one… astonishing kiss.
“Going somewhere?” a sly voice asked, as a shadow emerged from between two carriages.
