Taking her hand, he ran with her toward the summerhouse. He tried the door. “Blast. It’s locked.” Rain pelted down.
“The key is here.” She took an ornate key out of the nearby stone lantern, and he unlocked the door. They fell inside, breathless, laughing and damp from the sudden downpour.
She shook out her skirts, which were clinging to her shape in a most enticing—and deliciously improper—way. James simply stood and watched her.
Her hair clustered in damp curls framing her face. Her complexion, burnished by the rain and the exercise, glowed like a pearl. Damp, disheveled, unselfconscious and natural, she purely took his breath away.
“Lord, but you’re beautiful,” he murmured, and without thinking he stepped forward and cupped her face between his hands. Her skin was like cold silk, her mouth lush and damp and sweetly curved, and he was drowning in her eyes, her sea-deep, sea blue eyes. James couldn’t help himself
Slowly he lowered his mouth to hers, watching her eyes widen and then flutter closed. She was tense, but she made no move to pull away as he brushed his mouth across her lush, tender lips. He nibbled gently on them, teasing and tasting, and she pressed against him, her mouth closed tight, her lips pursed as she pressed baby kisses on him.
He ran his tongue along the seam of her lips, seeking entrance. Her eyes flew open, her breath hitched, and her lips parted, and he was in, and oh, the glory of her. She tasted of surprise and rain and sweet, sweet woman.
Heat sizzled through him, setting his body alight. He wanted to take her now, here in the summerhouse, with the rain all around them, cocooning them in their own private world.
He deepened the kiss and felt her hesitation, and then the first shy touches of her tongue against his.
He pressed deeper, pulling her pliant body against him, feeling himself hardening.
Awareness finally trickled through to his brain and hit him like a dash of cold water. It wasn’t just shyness here, not just inexperience; it was a level of innocence that shocked him. Baby kisses. She had no idea how to kiss. Eighteen years of marriage, and she had no idea how to kiss.
That bastard!
He eased back.
* * *
* * *
Alice pressed her hands against his chest, not quite sure whether she was pushing him away or just . . . not wanting to break all contact. His chest was warm and firm, and she fancied she could feel his heart beating under her fingers.
It couldn’t possibly be beating as fast as hers.
It took a few moments to clear her head. She had no idea kissing could be so . . . Like that.
He waited, gazing down at her with an unreadable look in his mist-dark eyes.
She moistened her lips. His eyes dropped to her mouth and darkened further.
She looked away—the intense look in his eyes was too distracting—and tried to gather her scrambled faculties.
He stroked a lock of hair away from her face. “It occurs to me that perhaps the aspect of marriage you disliked so much is the thing you call ‘um’—the activities in the marriage bed.”
Alice gasped. She didn’t know where to look. Stunned by his bluntness, she floundered before managing to say, “You should not— My marriage is—was private.”
“I’m right, aren’t I?”
She opened her mouth, closed it and looked away.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said.
His calm demeanor was irritating. “This conversation is not appropriate. I wish you would stop.”
He gave her a rueful smile. “I’m not trying to upset you, just . . . clear the air. So, how many men have you lain with?”
The question shocked her. She pressed her lips together, refusing to answer. She looked toward the door, but the rain was pelting down heavier than ever. The windows were starting to fog up. She ought to remove herself from this conversation, rain or not. But she didn’t move.
He frowned. “None? Really? What about the fellow you wrote those letters to? Your secret lover.”
“Letters? What letters?”
“The ones Bamber is blackmailing you with.”
“I didn’t write those letters! My husband did, to his mistress.” She added indignantly, “I’ve never had a lover, secret or otherwise. I was a faithful wife.”
He gave her a thoughtful look, then nodded slowly. “I didn’t think you were the straying kind. And I suppose you were a virgin when you married.”
She didn’t answer. Of course she’d been a virgin. She was—had always been—a virtuous woman. It was outrageous of him to suggest otherwise.
“So,” he continued, “if you disliked the ‘um’ you experienced in the marital bed, and you’ve only ever lain with your husband, it’s clear with whom the fault lies.”
She felt herself flinch and turned her face away.
“Oh lord, don’t look like that. I didn’t mean you.” He caught her cold hands in his big warm ones. “I meant the fault lay with your husband, the late earl,” he said softly.
“Oh.” Thaddeus had never let up about her inadequacies as a wife. In all ways.
Lord Tarrant’s warm thumbs caressed her chilled fingers. “Most women find ‘um’—also known as sexual congress—pleasurable unless—”
She snatched her hands away. “They do not! My mother warned me it would be unpleasant, and it was— Oh why are we even talking of such matters? It is quite reprehensible of you. Not to mention inappropriate and unseemly.”
He placed a finger on her lips, stilling her. “You interrupted me.”
She blinked and pulled away. It was just a touch, but it was too . . . distracting. “What?”
“I hadn’t finished. Women generally find sexual congress pleasurable unless their male partner is clumsy, ignorant or utterly selfish. I’m guessing your husband was the latter.”
Her cheeks were on fire. She pressed her cold hands against them to try to cool the heat, but it was in vain.
What was she to say to such a thing? Never in her life had anyone spoken to her in such a way, so frankly, so openly about matters that should remain behind closed doors—closed marital doors—not in a summerhouse in a shared garden with a man she’d only known for a relatively short time.
His voice deepened. “You have a dislike of ‘um’ because your experiences with your husband made it more like ‘erk.’ But with me, I promise you, it would be quite different. Marry me and I will turn ‘um’ into ‘yum.’ ” His eyes danced.