Part 2 (1/2)

She stared up at him, her fingers pressed to the corner of her swollen mouth. Her heart seemed unable to stop skipping in pure excitement, while her skin p.r.i.c.kled with a deliciously heated yearning-a yearning for more kisses, more caresses, more everything. For one splendid moment, she'd lived a page from one of her beloved books, and she wanted more.

He brushed his thumb over her mouth, sending new sensation rippling through her. ”You see? 'Chaste' and 'pa.s.sion' do not belong in the same sentence. And a woman with such tempting, plump lips must know the difference.”

So true. A real kiss was far more thrilling than the book's weak description.

She suddenly realized that she was still gripping Alexsey's coat with one hand and staring up at him in speechless wonder. I must look as silly as Lucinda. Flus.h.i.+ng, she forced her clenched fingers to release his coat and, stiffening her weakened knees, she stepped back. ”That-that was interesting.” Her voice, quavery and husky, sounded as shaken as she felt.

Alexsey had been celebrating the unexpectedly pa.s.sionate kiss, but at this, he lost his smile. Naturally he didn't expect accolades, for it had been brief and gentle, but to call such a wondrous kiss merely ”interesting”? ”I do not accept that.”

The girl blinked up at him, her spectacles making her brown eyes seem even larger, looking every bit the lush flower he'd named her. ”Accept what?”

” 'Interesting' is what you call porridge when you do not wish to insult the maker.”

Her lips quirked, amus.e.m.e.nt warming her expression, and his outrage softened. There was something fascinating about her, something that had caught him when she'd curtly demanded to know who he was. No one, especially women, spoke to him in such a way, and he found her a welcome diversion after what had begun as a rather boring day.

He liked women. All women. And this one seemed more interesting than usual. She was small and round, like a flower in full bloom, with thick, s.h.i.+ny brown tresses, her skin dusted with dainty freckles, her moods flas.h.i.+ng through her eyes and tripping off her tongue.

But her strongest and most sensual feature was her mouth, so plump and ripe for kisses.

Oh, how he'd loved kissing that mouth.

Very little-and very few women-had the power to intrigue him, but somehow, with just one kiss, this bespectacled little maid had managed to do just that.

He took her hand and uncurled her fingers, smoothing his thumb over the ink stains. Wherever she works, she obviously keeps the accounts. They must trust her. He smiled. ”Ah, Roza, I know one thing and one thing only-that our lips were made for one another.”

Her gaze flickered to his mouth, and then-her color high-she tugged her hand free. ”No.”

Alexsey's smile slipped. ”No?”

”It was just a kiss-nothing more.”

Her no-nonsense tone made him want to kiss the sensible thoughts right out of her head. She was so appealing in her gra.s.s-stained gown and bare toes. A flower hung from her hair, which was half fallen from its binding and hung about her face. Fresh-faced and stubbornly independent, she was a welcome change from his last mistress, an overly perfumed and powdered Italian opera singer who delighted in expensive presents and unending drama. No tight-laced woman of quality would be caught dead reading a novel on the forest floor, surrounded by dogs the size of horses, either. Despite her respectable air, this maid had returned his kiss with the wild pa.s.sion of a Romany, clinging to him with both hands, her eagerness stirring his pa.s.sion more than any skilled seductress.

He traced a finger down her cheek. ”Do you often come to this place to read?”

”Sometimes.”

Such caution. You didn't display any when you were kissing me. ”And to kiss strangers?” he teased, unable to resist.

Her plump lips thinned. ”Mr. Romanovin, as you must know by now, I don't normally kiss strangers, or anyone else. It's not proper.”

”We are far beyond proper, little Roza. And call me Alexsey.”

Delicious color again flooded her face, but she didn't relent. ”It's better if I call you Mr. Romanovin.”

Her voice lilted in an intriguing way, lifting his name and softening the ending. Alexsey liked a Scottish accent very well indeed. ”You are very formal for someone not wearing any shoes.”

She adjusted her skirt so that her toes were hidden from view. ”I didn't expect to meet anyone here.”

”Nor did I. In fact, I came for some peace and quiet. They are readying Tulloch Castle for the arrival of Sir Henry and his guests, and it is very noisy.”

Her gaze jerked to his. ”Sir Henry is returning? With his nephews?”

”Sir Henry and one nephew, aye.”

”And more?”

”I believe he brings twenty to thirty additional guests. Many rooms are being prepared.”

”That's odd; Mrs. Durnoch didn't mention it when I spoke to her a week ago.”

”Who?”

”The housekeeper at Tulloch.”

”Perhaps she did not know. This gathering, it is not long in the planning, I think.”

”Ah. That would explain it. I'm-” Her gaze flickered over him, and then away. ”It's getting late; I should return home.”

”Nonsense. It is early still.” He leaned a shoulder against the tree and crossed his arms over his chest. He wasn't ready to leave this ink-stained charmer of dogs. ”Besides, we have much to talk about. Such as whether we should attempt another kiss.”

”That would be a very bad idea. No one has introduced us-I don't even know you.”

He spread his hands wide. ”I am here, ready to become known. All you have to do is stay.”

Bronwyn bit her lip. He made it sound so easy. All she had to do was stay, and this magical moment, in which a handsome man found her too fascinating to maintain a sense of propriety, would last.

But she'd already allowed him to kiss her. What other liberties might she be cajoled into permitting? The thought both thrilled and terrified her.

He pushed away from the tree. ”Are you not even a little curious whether a kiss would be as good the second time? Perhaps the first was an aberration, an odd happenstance.”

She fought a smile at his hopeful expression. ”Curiosity killed the cat.”

”You are no cat. You are a thinking woman. I can see it in your eyes.” His smile turned devilish. ”Now, if you'll just think about our kiss, and how we should try again . . .”

Och, how she longed to, but her good sense clamored against it. Reluctantly, she stepped away to retrieve her book from the gra.s.s. ”The kiss was lovely. You were quite . . . skilled.”

His eyes glinted warmly. ”So I've been told, many times.”

Wait. Many times? Did he just walk about looking for women, then ply them with charm until they agreed to kiss him? Was that the sort of man he was? Of course it was, her good sense whispered. That's reality versus Roland. Aware of a deep and bitter flicker of disappointment, she shoved the book under her arm, then collected her shoes. ”Good day. I have ch.o.r.es to do.”

Alexsey's smile faded. ”Don't go. You cannot-”

”Come, Scott, Walter.” She stuffed her shoes in her pocket and headed toward a path on the other side of the clearing, walking as fast as she dared. ”Good-bye,” she called over her shoulder.

Frowning, Alexsey watched as she disappeared into the woods, her dogs following after.

Papillon whined and looked up at Alexsey. ”I am disappointed, too.” He wondered if he should follow her. Women didn't usually dash away after he'd expressed an interest in their company. In fact, most of them threw themselves at his head in a rather annoying fas.h.i.+on. But not Roza.

Of course, she didn't know he was a prince, a fact he'd purposely avoided mentioning, since he hadn't wished to turn her head in his direction using anything other than kisses. But now . . . perhaps he should have mentioned it. Would it have helped his cause?