Chapter 30 #3
And he was—very busy. He continued his path lower, trailing kisses down my throat until he reached my pulse at the base of it. There, he paused long enough to count several heartbeats before pulling away. John was right. Papa definitely wouldn’t have wanted us doing this in his study.
With careful fingers, he slid the neckline of my modest morning dress a few inches to the side. “What is this mark?” he asked after he exposed the smallest part of the scar that splashed across my collar bone.
Speaking seemed impossible, but after blinking my eyes a few times and allowing the world to come back into focus, I found my voice. “Powder burn.”
He didn’t take his eyes off of it but his lips lifted to a grin. “Of course it is. How old were you when you got it?”
His finger traced the mark back and forth, dipping below the neckline of my dress. I cleared my throat, determined to make my voice less raw. “Thirteen.”
His eyes slid up to mine, burning with an intensity that brought heat to my already-flushed cheeks. “Marry me.”
It was more command than question. I raised an eyebrow at him and he raised both of his back. We were back on the lawn playing shuttlecock and battledore, each daring the other to strike the final blow.
“Perhaps you should be the one to marry me,” I countered.
He threw his head back in a laugh and I took the opportunity to test his pulse with my lips. His laughter died away with a sharp intake of breath. I counted the erratic beating of his heart as a victory in its own right and pulled away with a smile. “Of course I’ll marry you.”
“Thank the heavens,” he said with the softest of groans. Lowering his head, he dropped a reverent kiss upon my powder burn.
Then he spun us around, sat on the stone bench and pulled me onto his lap. He was much warmer and much more comfortable than the bench had been. He pulled softly on the lobe of my ear and then angled my head for another soul-searing kiss.
For years I hadn't thought I needed the attention of a man. I’d never been drawn to them in ballrooms or at card tables.
But apparently a man in a wet coat in the middle of a storm had changed all of that, because I needed the attention John was giving my lips.
I needed the attention he gave my powder burn scar, and I needed to feel the way his breathing shifted and changed depending on where I put my hands and my mouth.
I’d just run my fingers up his chest and grabbed onto the knot of his cravat when John wrapped his arms around my waist and buried his face in the crook of my neck. “Charlie will be here soon.”
“It has definitely been more than fifteen minutes,” I agreed.
“It’s been more than twenty. It looks as though your mother won that argument after all.”
“She wins all of them.” I dropped a kiss at the top of his forehead. What a pleasure, kissing this man simply because I wanted to. “But don’t tell Papa.”
In the end, it was five more minutes before we heard Charlie coming.
He was belting out the marching tune of The British Grenadiers.
By the time he crossed over the bridge and saw us, we were sitting side by side, our heads back listening to the waterfall.
If he would have looked closely, he might have noticed our breathing was too quick and shallow to have been resting for long, but Charlie had no reason to look closely.
“There you are. Mama says you can come back now.”
“Will you sit with us first?” I asked him, scooting closer to John so he could join us.
“Papa said I had to practice my marching,” he said.
I smiled. Papa was well on his way to forgiving John. “We can practice it with you on our way back,” I coaxed.
He glanced at the two of us and nodded. “Did you finally teach Captain Calder how to enjoy this spot?” he asked.
John’s shoulders shook and I elbowed him in his side. “Yes, I finally did.”
“Good.” Charlie picked up my glove from the bench and placed it on my lap, then he sat down and leaned his head back. For several minutes we simply listened to the water.
With a movement so slow and careful Charlie wouldn’t notice, I took the glove from my lap, reached over to John, and pressed it firmly into his hand.
He lifted his head and looked down.
“Charlie?” he called.
“Yes.”
“I’m going to need you to look to your left for a moment.”
I didn’t take my eyes off of John, so I didn’t know what Charlie’s reaction was, but after a moment he replied, “Yes, sir.” Even though I couldn’t see it, there was certainly a smile in his voice.
John brought his mouth to my ear. “To be clear—you are giving this glove to me?”
I nodded.
“Because sometimes it’s difficult to interpret such things.”
“Well,” I answered, “hopefully this isn’t difficult to interpret.” I took the glove away from him. He frowned at the loss until I kissed each of the fingers and then reached over, opened the front of his coat and slid the glove into the inner pocket nearest to his heart.
I’d practically undressed John in the shepherd's croft, but having legitimate permission to do something as simple as open his coat and tuck something inside it felt far more intimate.
And then, because I couldn’t have him even the slightest bit uncertain, I took both of his cheeks in my hands and kissed his mouth for good measure.