Chapter Seven

H eloise shot up from her chair and paced the worn burgundy rug. She was trembling with tension, and furious to find herself so discomfited. It was extremely disagreeable to not know what to expect, to be uninformed and at the mercy of someone else's expertise. She wondered why anyone did it.

There was movement behind her as her tutor rose from the table. She couldn't bear it if he teased her. All her machinations, all her effort, for a first kiss that was as underwhelming as a sunken birthday cake. She spun away from him, only to feel his hand on her shoulder a moment later. He waited beside her, and eventually she softened. When she sighed and turned to him, he drew her back over to the window.

He positioned them standing face to face before the white-blue sky and the comforting green and brown backdrop of the garden. The scenery calmed her, quieting some of her noisy thoughts and frustration. When she gazed up into her tutor's handsome face, there was nothing in his eyes but kindness. Heloise felt the irritated line between her brows ease. He smiled, and she gave a faint one back.

"Ready?" His voice was low and soothing. "Close your eyes." She obeyed, her belly tightening with anticipation. But instead of the expected meeting of lips, she felt his fingers trace slowly down the line of her jaw.

"What are you doing?" For some reason, she kept her eyes closed. "You're meant to be kissing me."

"I am. Hush."

He cupped her face in his hands. His touch was light and airy, and he stroked the curve of her cheek with his thumb. It was very pleasant; she couldn't help but turn her face into the caress, just a bit. As he continued, not rushing in the least, she felt herself unwinding by imperceptible degrees. Her body grew lax and loose, and her shoulders drooped. Her breathing slowed, and when her lips parted in a sigh, he angled her face towards his and kissed her.

The kiss was patient and sweet, barely there, really. He brushed his lips over hers, teasing her with delicate passes. Their noses bumped as he nuzzled her, and she was surprised to find his mouth as exquisite and plush as crushed velvet. As he rubbed it softly against hers, a sensation bloomed in her body, radiating out from her belly and suffusing her limbs with tingling heat. She picked up his scent; shaving soap, linen, and some unidentifiable male essence. Without really meaning to, she pressed against him and curled her fingers into the satiny fabric of his waistcoat. In response, her tutor tugged her close and sealed his mouth over hers.

Heloise made a startled, muffled sound. He kissed her in earnest, one hand on her cheek, the other cupping her throat, where she was sure he could feel every frantic throb of her pulse. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was taking notes. It wasn't just his lips that were making her glow like fresh coal. It was his smell, the tickle of his hair on her face, his warm, uneven breath gusting over her cheek. When he deepened the kiss, she could taste sugar, and beyond, his own intimate, unique flavor. Heloise was struggling to catalog these variables when she felt something wet and slick touch her lips. She parted them in shock, and he slipped his tongue into her mouth.

Heloise snapped her head up so violently that her tutor staggered backwards, arms flung out to keep his footing.

"That was your tongue!" Heloise's voice was high as a scandalized matron's.

"I know." Her tutor tugged on his waistcoat and ran a hand through his hair.

"That is part of kissing?"

"Sometimes, yes."

Heloise stared at him in wonder. She touched her fingertips to her lips, recalling the electrifying glide, the gooseflesh that had bloomed all over her skin. She must have looked deranged because her tutor's dark brows pinched in concern. He took a step toward her.

"Forgive me," he said. "Perhaps I should not have—"

"That is exactly what I've been looking for!" Heloise laughed in his astonished face. "I've never felt anything like it! And I've certainly never read about that in a book." She wanted to dance a jig on the library rug, wanted to sweep him up and twirl with him around the bookshelves. She settled for a friendly clap on the shoulder, then ran to the table and snatched up her quill.

She had so much data to analyze. She wrote and wrote and didn't look up for quite a while. When she did, her tutor sat across from her. He seemed to be waiting for a sign of her well-being; when she gave him a cheerful smile, he returned it and rose from his seat. She watched him leave, gratitude swelling in her chest. He stopped at the philosophy shelf, selected a few volumes, and closed the door quietly behind him, leaving her to record all the mysterious details of her second kiss.