Miss Amelia's Mistletoe Marquess. Jenni Fletcher
worry about that.’ He reached for her cup, putting it aside as she started to wipe herself down. ‘I shouldn’t have put the question so bluntly, but have you considered that it might just be the thought of kissing itself that puts you off? If you’ve never tried it, perhaps you’re simply nervous?’
‘Perhaps.’ She pulled her shoulders back stiffly and folded her hands in her lap, seeming to make a concerted effort to regain her composure, though her expression was still flustered. ‘Yes, I suppose it could be that.’
‘In which case, maybe I can help.’
Green eyes widened like saucers. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Just that if you’d like to try then I’d be more than happy to oblige.’
‘You would be…’ He hadn’t thought that her eyes could get any bigger, but apparently he’d been wrong. Fortunately, the expression in them was more bewildered than offended. ‘Are you offering to kiss me, Mr Whitlock?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Because…’ He started and then stopped, considering for a moment. In all honesty, he was somewhat surprised by the suggestion himself. He couldn’t even blame it on the port since he’d sobered up a good hour ago. It wasn’t a gentlemanly offer. On the contrary, it was downright ungentlemanly, only now that he’d made it, he found himself somewhat ardently hoping she’d say yes. ‘Well, for a start, because you helped me earlier and now I’d like to help you. I admit that kissing isn’t something I’d usually suggest to a young lady, but we might consider it as a practical experiment, a way to work out how you feel about the whole process.’
‘I see.’ She lifted her chin, looking down her nose at him. ‘So kissing me would constitute your good deed for the day?’
‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that. I told you, I’m more than happy to do it.’
‘How gallant of you to say so.’
‘Forgive me—’ he couldn’t help but smile at her sarcasm ‘—I didn’t mean to imply any selflessness on my part. I’m sure I would enjoy the experience, too. It would just be one kiss, one single, solitary, utterly harmless kiss.’
‘Something tells me Gilbert wouldn’t see it that way.’
‘Gilbert? That’s the name of your suitor?’
‘Yes.’ She blinked. ‘What’s wrong with Gilbert?’
‘Nothing, only I’m Mr Whitlock.’
‘Because we’ve only just met!’
‘True, but since you’re thinking about kissing me, you might at least call me Cassius.’
‘I never said I was thinking about kissing you.’
‘But you are?’
‘No!’ She shook her head so emphatically that auburn hair tumbled forward over her shoulders. ‘I couldn’t possibly.’
‘Why not?’ He let his eyes follow the lustrous waves downwards. They reached to just below her breasts. If she were naked, the sight would be quite tantalising. His imagination was already running riot… ‘I don’t suppose you could shake your head again?’
She ignored his request. ‘How could I marry Gilbert after kissing someone else?’
‘You wouldn’t have to tell him.’
‘That would be even more wicked!’
‘All right then, tell him the truth: that you needed to know what the experience was like.’
‘Then he’ll say that I should have asked him to kiss me.’
‘Exactly!’ Cassius grinned triumphantly. ‘Only he shouldn’t have needed to be asked. He should have done it already. That’s as good a reason as any for not marrying him, in my opinion. The man’s clearly insane.’
‘Mr Whitlock…’ she pursed her lips, looking and sounding like an archetypal schoolmistress ‘…either you’re teasing me or you’re a Lothario.’
‘Millie…’ he shifted closer, emulating her tone ‘…if I were a Lothario, then I wouldn’t have asked if you wanted to be kissed, I would simply have done it. Then I would have found us another bottle of port and made some excuse to escort you upstairs. You were the one who came down, remember? And I believe you were also the one who first mentioned kissing?’
‘Oh, yes…’ her brow wrinkled ‘…so I did.’
‘And, as for teasing, I assure you that my offer is entirely genuine.’ His leg brushed inadvertently against hers, though since it was there he didn’t bother to move it away. ‘The truth is I’d rather like to kiss you. Your lips look quite extraordinarily kissable, especially now.’
‘Why especially now?’
‘Because you look so surprised.’ He brought his face alongside hers, murmuring into her ear, ‘Is it really so inconceivable that I might want to kiss you?’
‘Honestly?’ A small tremor seemed to run through her before she moved her head back to look him in the eyes again. ‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Nobody’s ever wanted to before.’
‘Only as far as you know.’
‘Well, yes, but…’ She drew her bottom lip into her mouth and sucked, unconsciously, he was certain, though the gesture struck him as intensely sensual. ‘Just one kiss?’
‘Just one and we’ll stop whenever you want. We don’t even have to talk about it afterwards. We can talk about something else entirely. The East India Company in China, for example. Personally I consider their behaviour reprehensible, but Peel and his government seem deter—’
‘Cassius?’
‘Yes?’
‘I think I’d prefer not to talk about the Prime Minister right now.’
‘As you wish. I’m a Whig myself…’
‘Cassius?’
‘Yes?’
‘You can kiss me. Just once…’ her pupils seemed to swell as she spoke ‘…and just as an experiment.’
‘With pleasure.’
He lifted a hand to her cheek and drew her face gently, but steadily, towards him. Her eyes opened wide for a split second and then closed as his lips touched against hers, though she didn’t pull away as he’d half-expected she might. On the contrary, she swayed closer, actually increasing the pressure of the kiss as she let out a small, barely distinguishable sigh. The sound seemed to warm his insides, heating his blood and making his heart skip a beat and then start to pump at twice its usual speed. Her lips were just as kissable as they’d appeared, velvety smooth and tasting of hot, sweet tea. Perfectly delicious, in fact. He slid his tongue between them, stroking the inside of her mouth, also delicious, then brought his other hand up to slide through the soft red waves of her hair.
She reached for his shoulders and a bolt of desire, startling in its intensity, shot through him with the force of a bullet. Damn it. He let his hand fall from her hair. This was a mistake. So much for one utterly harmless kiss. With this woman, he had a feeling that one kiss would never be anywhere near enough. He wanted more, much more, several hours’ worth of more, in fact. Which meant that he had to stop now before all the blood rushed to the lower half of his body and he lost the ability to make rational decisions.
He broke away, clearing his throat to disguise the ragged sound of his breathing.
‘Well…’ He picked up his cup and