Part 20 (2/2)
”True,” he agreed, his voice smooth and even. ”But just as those vows you took no longer apply, I am no longer a child. I am a man. A grown man, who desires you, a grown woman. Now, I have a question.”
”Yes?” she asked warily.
”If our ages were reversed, would it matter?”
Her brows drew together. ”What?”
”If I were one-and-thirty and you were five-and-twenty, would you think our age difference to be an impediment?”
She hesitated, considering his fictional query.
Men entered into unions with women younger than themselves all the time. Society even encouraged it-older men being seen as wiser and more capable of caring for a younger partner. She'd even known men old enough to be a young woman's grandfather cheerfully invited by the family to wed their daughter. Many might find that much of an age difference distasteful, but it wasn't disallowed. Men always paired off with women their own age or younger; it's how things were done.
”No,” she said, ”I would see no impediment.”
He met her eyes. ”Then why should there be one for us? Why does it matter that you are a few years older than I am?”
When Leo phrased the question that way, a difference based solely on gender seemed ridiculous. And yet it went against everything society deemed right and proper.
She sighed. ”Because it does. Because it is the way of the world.”
”Then perhaps the world is wrong. Does it feel wrong when I do this?”
Bending near, he claimed her mouth in a slow, sultry kiss that scattered her thoughts in an instant. She closed her eyes and gave herself over to the sensation, knowing it felt too wonderful to stop.
”What about this?” he murmured, feathering his lips across her cheeks and eyelids and forehead before nuzzling the delicate skin at the base of her ear. He traced his tongue around the edge, then blew gently inside.
A shudder rippled through her. ”It feels sinful.”
He chuckled. ”Perhaps. But not because of our ages. I think we're uniquely compatible.” He pressed his mouth to hers again, then caught her lower lip between his teeth for a quick, playful nip. ”I think we're perfect. You're perfect. Besides, I've heard younger men and older women make the best lovers. Do you want to know why?”
He is wicked, she thought, unable to break the spell he'd cast over her.
”Why?” she asked dreamily.
”Because a woman in her prime knows exactly what kind of pleasure she wants to receive and a healthy young man has the stamina and enthusiasm to give it to her.” He teased her ear again. ”Let me give it to you, Thalia.”
She turned her head away, not sure where she found the strength. ”You said you were going to wait until my ankle is better.”
”To make pa.s.sionate, full-bodied love to you, yes. But I didn't say I wouldn't kiss you. I didn't say I wouldn't do everything in my power to remind you of the fact that you are already mine.”
Before she had time to think of an argument, his mouth found hers again. He drew her down fast, taking her into a realm of dark pleasure and unquenchable need. A raw quiver went through her as she reached up a hand and stroked his smooth-shaven cheek.
What strange power does he have over me? And why do I no longer seem to possess the will to stop him?
It had been so clear in the beginning, so simple. He had been no one to her, easy to refuse. But now he was Leo-a man she liked. A man she had no choice but to admit she desired.
Without even realizing her intention, she twined her fingers through his thick, silky hair to pull him closer. He hummed his approval low in his throat as their kiss went from lazy to intense, each new caress more fervid than the last.
Suddenly, he groaned and broke away, resting his forehead against hers. ”If you want me to keep my word, I'd better stop. Otherwise I'm going to carry you into your bedroom and take you, sprained ankle or not.”
His words yanked her out of her haze. She trembled, sorely tempted to wrap her arms around him and let him sweep her away. But then she saw the afternoon sunlight flooding into the room, noticed the tea tray and her open sitting room door.
She angled her head away. ”Yes. We need to stop.”
”I was afraid you'd say that.”
But he wasn't angry, she noticed, accepting her refusal with a good humor that she found surprising. He pressed one last kiss on her forehead, then went to reclaim his seat.
”This is fun,” he remarked as he refilled his cup from the still warm contents in the urn. ”I like having tea with you.”
Instead of replying, she straightened her shawl.
She and Leo were playing dominoes an hour later-Hera curled up in her favorite chair by the unlit fire-when Thalia remembered her promise to Mathilda.
”Leo?”
”Yes?” He laid a tile on the board.
It was a double six; she didn't have a six.
”I was just wondering,” she said, ”if you might by any chance be acquainted with Lord Cathcart?”
She reached into the boneyard-the ma.s.s of facedown dominoes laid off to one side-and picked one up.
A four. She couldn't play that either.
”Pa.s.s,” she said.
”Lord Cathcart? You mean Lady Cathcart's husband, your friend who I met earlier today?”
”Exactly.”
She waited for him to play.
Of course, he had a six and a three, the wretch.
”No,” he said. ”I've seen him at Brooks's on occasion, but we do not know one another. Why?”
She frowned and drew another tile. ”No reason. It's not important.”
His eyes met hers over the board. ”I thought we'd agreed not to lie to each other. So, once again, why do you want to know about Lord Cathcart?”
She played the tile she'd just drawn-a three. ”Before I do, I want your a.s.surance that you will keep this in strictest confidence.”
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