Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Frederick walked across the loggia, breathing in the scent of pine and winter on the chilled air. Voices and laughter emerged from inside as he took his time crossing the less-traveled path from the party to the Mahogany Room. He wasn't certain when Lillias had disappeared from the Music Room, but he'd waited an appropriate amount of time before slipping away himself.

He'd never imagined something as simple as a kiss could feel like a precipice for his future, but perhaps Blake was right. If a kiss, or the proper type of kiss and freely given, could encourage affection, he'd ensure he'd do his best, if skill and sincerity had the power to do so.

The door to the Mahogany Room stood partially open—an invita-tion—so Frederick slipped in without a sound. His pulse hammered up a notch. A dying fire provided the only light in the expansive room, its soft glow casting deep shadows across furniture and carpet up to the wall of windows. His breath caught. Outlined by a large arched window and haloed in moonlight stood the silhouette of his bride-to-be.

She was beautiful. Dazzling, even. The entire ambience of the setting brewed with the amber hues of a dream. He eased his approach, waiting for her to turn, but she appeared lost in thought—gaze trained toward the dark outline of the distant mountains. Her shadowed profile intrigued him most of all. There was a gentleness to her thoughtful features that tugged his heart more than his desires. He'd witnessed her compassion toward her sister and father. She'd softened at the idea of having caused him to doubt her sincerity. Yet here, in this intimate moment, he'd never anticipated Lillias Ferguson to look almost hallowed, basking in moonlight and dusk. Seductive? Yes. Intriguing? Perhaps. But angelic? Innocent even?

On a whim, he swept his arm around her slim waist and pulled her against him, catching her gasp with his lips. An immediate jolt shot through his body at the connection. A first kiss often gave away many hints, but this one surprised him. She tasted of strawberries and smelled like mint and rosemary. A tremor shook from her body into his, as if this kiss was wholly unexpected, but just as he thought to pull away, she relaxed. Her pliable, warm mouth contoured to his in such a tantalizing way, it encouraged him to linger. He tightened his hold, confirming his intentions without reservation.

Her soft curves melted against him and a gentle moan purred up from her throat like a request for more. He gladly complied. Her cool fingers slipped up his chest to graze his cheek. The gentle touch—more curious than seductive—sent an almost maddening battle to his raw emotions. She felt so small in his arms, so perfectly fitted. A sudden rush of protectiveness gripped him. There was an indefinable sweetness in her caress, and her almost innocent response wrung his heart with tenderness. Hope.

Was this the woman she hid from the public? This moonlit creature?

In the quiet of their intimate moment—this first kiss—he vowed to endeavor to win her, if he could. Even if it meant staying in London more than he wished or hosting more parties than he cared for. He had to try.

With the slightest hesitation and a sigh from his beautiful companion, he drew back, the full glow of the moon lighting her face.

But it wasn't Lillias Ferguson he'd kissed with such devotion.

Staring back at him, bright eyes as wide as saucers and lips swollen from his thorough assault, stood Gracelynn Ferguson—his bride's sister.

That was singly the most invigorating moment Grace had ever known. Her entire body hummed alive, warmed by some internal light radiating heat through every fiber of skin.

Her eyes fluttered open and met Lord Astley's somewhat horrified expression. The moonlight gave him a mysterious, vampire-like appearance, which reminded her to reread Dracula at her earliest convenience.

She blinked a few more times to clear her head, then glanced around the room, her imagination pulling all the pieces together. He'd meant to meet her sister here.

A clandestine meeting? A shiver incited gooseflesh at the enticing thought. How romantic!

She raised her fingers to her lips, investigating their reaction to her first kiss as her breath continued to pulse in halts and stops. "You…you didn't mean to do that, I don't think."

He shook his head a solid five seconds before any words emerged. "Indeed no."

"You thought…I was my sister?"

"Yes." His answer scratched through ragged breaths like hers. So perhaps the intensity of the reaction was normal.

Her gaze dropped back to his lips, and hers tingled afresh. Kisses told a tale of Lord Astley she'd not anticipated. Tenderness, passion. Her breath grew short again as something in her awakened to the awareness of their intimate encounter. Not nervous, exactly. She pressed her hand against her stomach, her face warming. "Well, I would convey your message to her, but I don't believe it would have the same impact."

A shaft of air burst from his lips, a sound between a cough and a laugh. "You are positively unexpected."

"Obviously." She attempted a grin, but her lips tingled so much she wasn't sure of the effect. Oh my, what a glorious endeavor. "But a secret rendezvous is a perfectly amorous undertaking. I didn't take you as the sort."

"The…the sort?" He still seemed utterly discombobulated.

"To indulge with such determined passion and spontaneity. Not that I'm complaining, you understand. I'm certain Lillias will find every bit of it breathtaking."

"Are you not disarmed in the least by this turn of events?" He narrowed those dark eyes of his and surveyed her from top to bottom as if she'd gone mad.

Ridiculous man! He was the one who'd kissed the wrong woman, not her.

"I kissed you as if you were my fiancée!" He pinched his eyes closed and shook his head. "My sister would have puddled to the floor in a mortified heap if such an exchange happened to her."

"Well, it was quite a shock!" Her lips still prickled in appreciation. "But why waste such a beautiful blunder on mortification? And what an unpleasant word that is. Mortification. No wonder the preacher says it with a scowl on his face. Oh no, I would never place the word mortification and your lovely kiss into the same sphere, let alone the same sentence."

"I mistakenly kiss you in a dark room in a way to possibly ruin your reputation and you're concerned about the word mortification?" His brow furrowed and he raised his hands in exasperation. "You really are the most peculiar creature."

Well, that certainly wasn't the first time she'd been called peculiar, but the way his deep tones spoke the word, in slight fascination, didn't make it sound as unkind as how others had used it. "Come now, my lord, it was an honest mistake, and I was just pondering how the dastardly Mr. Rochester must have kissed Jane Eyre when he declared his love for her, so when you came out of the darkness and swept me into your arms, I was fairly certain my imagination had gotten away with me, which isn't an uncommon occurrence, you understand, but never quite so"—she slid her finger over her lips again—"tactile. I'd always considered a kiss to be an extraordinary thing. I'm so glad you proved me right."

"I offer my sincerest apologies." He released a slow breath and took a step back. "I would never have presumed… Wait. This was your first kiss?"

"Well of course! You don't suppose I'm off kissing men on a regular basis, do you? Fantasy and reality are not the same thing, and despite my love of fiction, I don't confuse them. Often." Her attention drifted back to his mouth. A well-formed mouth, now that she thought about it. "We shouldn't tell Lillias about this. Even though it was an honest mistake, she'd find the idea—"

"Intolerable."

"I was going to say uncomfortable, but intolerable may be better, or perhaps even such a delightful sounding word as reprehensible. "

He stared at her to the point his very strong chin slacked a bit.

"Please don't look so distraught. I'm unharmed, as you see." She gave his arm a stiff pat. "If it's any consolation, I can tell you with certainty my sister will enjoy your kisses. I can't think of one woman who wouldn't, but I suppose we shouldn't be caught in this dark room alone."

He blinked to attention. "Indeed." He took her by the arm and gently guided her to the doorway. "Perhaps you should rejoin the party first?"

Grace shook her head. "I can sneak through the breakfast room and then the servants' corridor, and return to the party without anyone seeing us together."

"Please accept my most ardent apologies, Miss Grace." His dark gaze found hers again, so filled with remorse she gave his arm another touch, less stiff this time.

"No harm done, my lord, but do promise me one thing."

He nodded.

"Make certain all of your other kisses are reserved for your bride, won't you?"

His very nice lips crooked to one side. "I can assure you, Miss Grace, I will make quite certain the next woman I kiss is the right one."