He shrugged. “It’s done. They should arrive any day now. And, lucky you, when they arrive, I’ll leave.”
She crossed the room.
And flicked him on the forehead.
“Ow!” He rubbed the spot. “What was that for?”
“For being so highhanded!” She’d resorted to such punishments often when they were children. She couldn’t wallop the boy in the wheelchair, even when he deserved it. So she’d flicked him instead. On the forehead, the ear, the end of the nose. He’d always looked at her just like that, too—shocked, angry, a bit befuddled. She’d unbefuddle him. “You do not mean to stay here, so you cannot shapehereto your expectations.”
And also a little bit because… he was leaving. And soon. She should glory in the knowledge.
She didn’t feel a bit glorious about it.
His arm shot around her waist before she could move away, and he tumbled her into his lap. “It is because I will not be here that I am shaping it, Caro.”
For a moment, she could not move, could only stare at the hard lines of his face, the tortured blue of his eyes. Same as they’d been as a boy.
She allowed herself to melt, for the boy who had been her friend.
And she wrapped her arms around his neck, for the man who held her tightly. And a little bit for herself as well.
He kissed the top of her head then lifted her chin, slipped his hand behind her neck. “Read your note.”
It was warm in her pocket, and when she pulled it out, her heart began a manic rhythm. The ribbon he’d wrapped around it—the same one she’d put about his wrist days ago. When she untied it, he slipped it through her fingers, putting it into his pocket. Oh. It should not make her feel so warm and lovely to know her ribbon rested there. But it did.
Hands shaking, she unfolded the note. There was his handwriting—bold and sloped, messy yet strong.
Dear Friend,
It is likely too much to ask, but I had hoped you might not mind kissing me. If you are favorably inclined to my request, meet me in an hour’s time behind the stables. I should very much like my next kiss to be from you.
Yours,
Felix
It was almost identical to the note she’d given him all those years ago. Only hers had asked for afirstkiss, not anextkiss. He remembered.
So she did what he’d failed to do back then.
She kissed him. A short thing, long enough only to answer his missive. And then she said, “Do we have to wait an hour?”
“God, no.”
Absolute folly.
She didn’t care.
He kissed her like she alone could rouse him, like she was a light he was following out of the dark. When he stopped, it was only to moan her name. Or, something like it.
“Caro-mine.” Then he settled himself in for a longer taste, and she let him.
Why not let him? Kisses were a husband’s due and a wife’s pleasure, and she found herself quite willing.
Eager.
Clutching at his cravat and pulling him closer, closer, as his kiss deepened. Breathing difficult, thinking impossible. Their kiss this morning had shown her the difference between the boy, her friend, and the man, her husband. This one took the attraction, the desire that had curled to life inside her then like a bit of smoke before a spark and flamed it into an inferno.
Her body came to life with pulsing need. She ended the kiss, their lips parting with a wet pop, but he wouldn’t release her.
