“It’s always important to praise your men.”
“Your soldiers?” she teased.
“He works for you, hence, he’s quite like a soldier. Praise for a subordinate was not something I saw growing up.”
Smiling, she said, “A subordinate—you mean a servant.”
“Or man of business, but yes. My father believed in authority and dominance, not in praising people for the work they were supposed to do regardless.”
“And you saw that in yourself,” she reminded him, feeling Blythe’s curiosity as her own.
“I did. I am grateful that the army showed me another way.”
The sofa dipped a little more, and then she felt his breath warm against her ear as he softly spoke.
“I could praise your beauty,” he murmured.
She shivered, excitement like a fluttering bird longing to be free. “That is not an accomplishment I can claim as my own, so no need to praise me.”
“I can praise your talents.”
He lifted her hand and slowly removed her glove, each tug making her tremble the harder.
When he had her fingers bare, he kissed each one. “These fingers caress the piano keys lovingly, bringing forth beautiful music.”
She laughed softly. “I have not even had a chance to practice since we came here.”
“And the piano stands quite forlorn. Do not ignore that part of yourself.”
“I must be blushing by now.”
“Pink cheeks, the brilliant shine in your golden eyes, that comes from you.”
He placed a soft kiss on her neck, just beneath her ear, and with a gasp, she bent her head to offer more to him. Her lips had been so sensitive to him—it was amazing that even her neck prickled with sensation at his touch. When he gently bit her earlobe, she shuddered.
He took her face in his hands and tilted her toward him. She was ready for his mouth this time and enjoyed the masterful way his tongue explored her mouth, then met her own. She gasped and moaned, then found herself slowly falling backward on the sofa as he leaned over her. They continued urgent kisses, while his hand moved from her waist and slowly up her bodice, cupping her breast through the corset, such a scandalous thing.
She enjoyed the naughtiness a moment too long, then broke the kiss with a gasp. “It is almost time for dinner. A servant could come looking for us any moment.”
He pressed kisses down her throat, dipping his tongue in the hollow at its base. “I locked the door.”
“But that is so suspicious.”
“We are engaged?—”
“We are not!”
“Then let us be lovers.”
“No, please, I cannot think about such things now.”
He rose away from her, drawing her back upright by both hands.
“My glove?” she asked, feeling for it all around her.
“On the floor.” He put it into her hands. “I have not lost hope that you will change your mind.”
“I cannot tell you what to think,” she said shakily, rising to her feet and then catching the back of the nearby chair to steady herself.