“No,” he said quickly. “Don’t. It really does look lovely.”
She turned back, looking at him through her lashes. “But I am not a fairy,” she said.
“No. You are so much more.”
She turned to him fully now and looked up at him. The pause between them was heavy, and Alexander felt his breath slow.
“Do you really think so?” she asked.
“A wise woman once told me that there is a fine line between tension and passion,” he told me.
Miss Charlotte giggled again. “Lady Chelsea said it to me.”
“In that case, you were wise to repeat it.” He paused, pressing his lips together as she looked up at him coyly. He felt as though his body was vibrating. He wanted to kiss her, but he still wasn’t certain it was the right moment.
“Do you really think so?” she asked again.
She looked up at him with such hope, such pleading, and Alexander knew he couldn’t wait any longer. He stepped closer to her and put his hand to her cheek as he had before. She shuddered under his touch.
“Charlotte, I know I infuriate you often, quite without meaning to. But know this. I admire everything about you. You are intelligent and strong and free. You are everything I would love to be, and you are beautiful with it.”
She leaned into his palm, her big green eyes gazing up at him, and in that moment the world fell away from them. He lowered his face slowly to hers, wondering how he could kiss her when he knew he shouldn’t. When he knew how much he wanted to.
His lips were barely an inch from hers when she said, “Are you going to kiss me?”
Her breath rushed past his face, and he shuddered. Yes, he was going to kiss her.
“Do you want me to?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“All right.” Still he paused, his hammering heart making him hesitate.
“I have never been kissed,” she repeated. “And you look like you know how to kiss very well indeed.”
“All right,” he repeated.
And then he no longer paused. He no longer hesitated. He dipped his head until their lips gently touched, brushing against each other tenderly. It took a moment, but she responded to his touch, and then, suddenly, they crossed the line into passion.
She stepped forward, bridging the already small gap between them and pushing her body against his. She felt lithe and soft, and he wrapped an arm around her waist to prevent her from going anywhere. It was exactly as he’d imagined it, the feelof her breasts pressed against his hard chest, the way her hair tickled his face.
It was just a kiss. Nothing, really. A triviality. Something he had done with many women before. But this kiss was different. More powerful. It stirred that familiar feeling in his groin, rousing the sleeping part of him that Charlotte seemed to know how to wake so succinctly. He squirmed, hoping she wouldn’t feel him against her leg, worried that it would frighten her off.
Too soon. Too much.
To distract himself, he thrust his hand into her hair and kissed her harder, walking her back so that she was against the wall. With his free hand, he explored her body. He traced the curve at the back of her neck and down her shoulders, her back.
Then he moved around, gliding across the smooth fabric at her waist and sliding his fingers up until he cupped her breast. She let out a squeak, one he was certain was delight, and she curved her body toward him so that her hips met his.
He couldn’t stop himself now. Everything about her was irresistible. Even the way she snapped at him. He moved his lips from her, following the line of her jaw until he kissed her neck, nibbled her lobe. She gasped, encouraging him further, but when he felt the tap on his arm, he knew she meant him to stop.
Alexander jumped back, wiping the corner of his lips and quite unable to meet her eyes. “I… I’m sorry,” he stuttered. “I really shouldn’t have—”
“Dandelion,” she said then laughed, the sound ringing out over the garden.
“Dandelion?” he asked, looking up at her as though she had gone as mad as his cousin, Norman.
“Dandelion,” she repeated. “A well-dressed cat! Come with me!”
