“The density of the ball is obviously insufficient to unseat the bird. I have struck it three times, and thrice it has remained. I conclude that it is clearly fastened to the perch,” he accused, shoving his spectacles up the bridge of his nose.
The bearded man grinned as if being called a cheat was the highlight of his day. With a supercilious lift of his hand, he flicked the cuckoo from the perch with the tip of his finger to show how easily it could be done. Then he put the bird back in place, set the ball on the rail in front of Lucien and crossed his arms over his chest, daring his customer to try again.
Beside her, Lucien seethed through his teeth and reached into his pocket.
Meg put her hand on Lucien’s arm, staying him. “There’s no need to spend any more coin on this bit of foolishness. This man has likely made a fortune on the game when there isn’t any possible way to”—dismissively, she swiped up the ball and sent it sailing through the air—“best it.”
Just as the last syllable left her lips, the ball connected with the cuckoo.
The bird fell.
Meg instantly squealed with delight, clapping and bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Did you see that, Lucien? Did you . . .”
Her words trailed off when she saw the muscle along his jaw twitch.
He set the coin down crisply on the rail, then took her hand and started to walk across the cobblestones.
“I’m certain it was just luck,” she said, trying not to laugh. But really, this was too amusing.
“There is no such thing as luck.”
She quickened her step to keep pace with him, not bothering to hide her grin. “Then, it was likely the arc I was able to achieve from my height. If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times, you are simply too tall.”
“My height had nothing to do with it.”
“Then, it must have been the size of your hands. They are simply too large.” She thought she saw the corner of his mouth twitch, but she had to turn her attention away as he took her up the steps of the church and through the wide oaken doors. “Of course, it couldn’t have anything to do with my skill.”
The door swung closed behind them just as she giggled, the sound reverberating through the cathedral. The few villagers who were there admiring the stained-glass windows and the vaulted ceilings turned to glare at them. One even shushed her.
Meg barely had time to paste on a contrite expression before Lucien abruptly pivoted and stalked toward the archway on the far side of the vestibule, hauling her with him.
There, he led her through a narrow door. Inside was a steep set of stairs, the walls of the tower curving around every side. She looked up and up and up and saw the bell hanging overhead.
“Lucien,” she whispered as he closed the door behind them, “why are we in the bell tow—”
She didn’t have the chance to finish.
In an instant, he had turned her in his arms and lowered his mouth to hers.
Her eyes widened. Then she smiled as understanding dawned. She hadn’t been wrong about those heated looks, after all. And this was so much better than holding hands.
But she barely had time to slide hers to his shoulders before he lifted his head and looked down at her. Lips parted, he panted, “Is this . . . acceptable?”
“Yes, yes.” She nodded and tried to pull him closer to her once more. But he solved that problem by gripping her waist and setting her on the first step. “Even better.”
He captured those syllables with a burning kiss. His body was so close that she could feel the heat of it through layers of linen, wool, muslin and cambric. Feel the last vestiges of his carefully controlled desire go up in flames as he held her face and took complete possession of her mouth.
This was different from the first time. That had been all stillness—a shock, a breath, a press and release. And, truth be told, she’d known little else about kissing. But this was so much more. All movement—lips parting, hungry sips, tongues sliding in delicious wet friction. And he didn’t even seem to mind her untutored enthusiasm, like the way she raked her teeth over his bottom lip or suckled his tongue deeper into her mouth in an attempt to satisfy this new craving for the taste of him.
He growled, pulling her flush. But his glasses slid down the length of his nose. Frustrated, he shoved them back in place, then wrapped his arms around her, nudging her lips apart with his own . . . only to growl again when the saddle slipped.
“Take them off. Take them off,” she said urgently, helping to dislodge the earpieces as her fingers threaded in his hair. A mewl of impatience escaped her when his mouth strayed from hers, but he quickly returned as if they were two magnets drawn together.
Dimly, she heard the faint clatter of something falling to the floor. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered in this moment as he held her tighter, and she twined her arms around his neck.
“Why didn’t you start with this?”
“What? This?” he asked, kissing her again until her toes curled.
She nodded, their chests rising and falling in a tandem crush, stomachs pressed. “You should have started right here.”
“You expected me to bypass the carnival, march across the cobblestone and drag you into the bell tower?”
His mouth opened over her throat, sucking gently on the vulnerable pulse, his splayed hand descending lower on her back, drawing her closer.
“Yes, yes and yes.” She arched her neck, eyes closed, lost in pleasure. “You wasted far too much time being surly these past few days.”
He smiled against her skin. “All was going to plan until that bloody cuckoo tipped me over the edge.”
Then he took her mouth again. Gripping her bottom, he lifted her higher against him until her slippers were balanced on the edge of the step.
The solid feel of him distracted her thoughts, and she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. “Hmm?”
He answered with a hungry sound as he nudged her lips apart with tiny sips that beckoned her to do the same. It was like they were feasting on each other, licking and tasting until the kiss transformed into something new and urgent. His grip brought the apex of her thighs against a thick shape. Reflexively, her hips tilted against the imposing hardness, gauging, testing, until something of a purr vibrated in her throat. A guttural grunt left his, the sound tunneling deep into the pit of her stomach.
“This is madness,” he rasped, pausing to gaze wonderingly down into her face, his eyes blazing and dark. “You’re positively irresistible and clever and witty. I never stood a chance, did I?”
She shook her head, grazing her lips across his as her heart rejoiced. “There’s something between us. I’ve known it from the beginning. I didn’t want to accept it then, but now there’s no way to turn my back on it.”
“I know.” He closed his eyes and kissed her softly as he lifted a hand to cradle her face. “With that book standing between us, it complicates everything. But it doesn’t have to be that way.”
“What we have is greater than any book. Something deep and lasting. We were brought together for a reason.”
During these past few days, Meg knew that her Stredwick certainty had finally found her soul’s counterpart. She’d thought the Fates had given her Daniel, but he’d never made her feel this way. Her tender feelings for him were nothing compared to this burning passion.