Chapter 10 #2
And then, excruciatingly slowly, Norman pulled his hand back along hers as he released it, a soft caress that caused her to shiver.
He pushed himself to standing, frowning at the ball in his palm. “We need to return.”
Kitty let out a breath she’d not even been aware she held. “Yes,” she murmured. But she did not move.
After a second, she shivered herself free of the trance, her heart still pounding in her chest like a prisoner.
“All right,” she said, her voice more composed than she had spoken before. “Demonstrate it properly.”
Norman arched an eyebrow. “Oh? You are suddenly interested in following rules?”
She snorted. “I have decided that, perhaps, I should learn.”
His lips curled ever so slightly. “Very well.”
He stepped past her, placing her hands on the mallet. She tensed. Not with uncertainty—but with the uncontainable warmth of his sturdy body against her back.
His voice had deepened now, a low rumble against her ear. “Like this.”
His fingers adjusted her grip, keeping hold as he showed her.
Kitty swallowed hard. If he noticed how she responded, he said nothing about it. But he didn’t move away either.
She cleared her throat. “This does feel rather intimate.”
He exhaled a soft, almost laughing breath. “You’re really that clueless?”
Kitty’s head turned far enough to catch his eyes. “You are the first man I have ever wanted to push away and pull closer at the same time,” she said. “And that confuses me horribly.”
Darkness and a feral glint flashed through his face. His fingers dug deeper into her hands.
“Remarkable,” he murmured, his voice was too calm, like the still surface of a lake hiding dangerous currents. “You grow quiet when touched, Miss McGowan.”
Kitty’s breath caught. The accusation—for that’s what it was—hung between them like a challenge.
“I should not,” he whispered, but the sound was insincere.
Her own breathing was unsteady. “Then don’t.”
His gaze dropped to her lips. Just as he bent toward her—
She met him halfway.
There was no hesitation this time, no breath caught in their throats, only the startling inevitability of contact.
His mouth captured hers in a kiss that was rougher than the first—hungrier, like a dam had broken somewhere deep inside him.
Kitty inhaled sharply, the taste of him flooding her senses, the heat of his body closing in like a storm she no longer wanted to outrun.
His hand released hers only to cup the side of her face, tilting her head so he could deepen the kiss.
Her fingers fisted in the fabric of his waistcoat, helpless against the shiver that coursed down her spine.
He growled softly against her mouth, the sound vibrating through her bones and unraveling her composure completely.
A voice shouted in the distance.
“Kitty?”
They sprang apart from each other, caught off guard. Norman straightened his back immediately, his jaw working.
Kitty closed her eyes and bit off an oath. Of all the horrid—
“Kitty?” The voice returned—Cynthia’s—growing near.
Norman released a quick breath and straightened up, smoothing himself out. “We should go.”
They walked back to the rest of the group, Kitty trailing a couple steps behind him.
As they rejoined the party, Kitty’s pulse still hammered against her stays like a caged bird.
She forced her breathing to steady, her face to smooth into perfect composure—the very picture of a disinterested society miss.
Yet every nerve remained acutely aware of Norman’s presence beside her, his sleeve brushing her elbow as they walked, the heat of him radiating through their clothes like a banked fire.
Norman, on his part, had resumed his usual calm exterior, save for the lingering warmth in his eyes when their eyes met. Cynthia was already watching them as they approached, her face impassive save for the strain around her mouth.
“Ah, here you two are,” Cynthia trilled, the saccharine nature of her tone making Kitty’s hand tighten on the mallet handle. “I was beginning to think we ought to send out a search party.”
Lady Mulberry, standing near the wicket, looked no more pleased.
Kitty squared her shoulders. She wasn’t about to let them ruin her good mood.
She confronted Cynthia with a totally innocent smile. “We were just retrieving the ball.”
Cynthia’s smile did not falter, but Kitty saw the flash of something pointed in her eyes before she turned away. Norman coughed.
“Shall we begin again?” he asked, his voice level, although Kitty wasn’t mistaken when his fingers clenched at his sides momentarily prior to taking his position.
The game started in a rush. Kitty, still buzzing by what happened between her and Norman only a few moments earlier, threw herself into it with fresh determination.
She was a long way from being an expert, but she had spirit, and to her immense delight, she found that her keenness more than made up for the lack of skill.
Cynthia, however, did not seem nearly as pleased with how things were progressing.
“Oh, Kitty, do be careful,” Cynthia said sweetly as Kitty prepared her shot. “The last thing we want is for you to make a fool of yourself.”
Kitty smiled and bowed her head. “How considerate of you to be concerned,” she replied, and, without further remark, played her shot and struck the ball neatly through the wicket.
Norman made a sound that might possibly have been a laugh but quickly turned it into a cough. Kitty glanced at him, a gleam of triumph in her heart as she met the amusement shining in his eyes.
As the game went on, Kitty relaxed. Her laughter rang out across the garden with each victorious turn, and she hardly noticed Lady Mulberry’s pointed frowns or Cynthia’s darkening scowl—she was having too much fun.
And then, in the final round, she won.
There was a pause.
Kitty blinked down at the ball that had just fallen neatly into position, then looked up at Norman, expecting to see the same sort of suppressed frustration she had witnessed from him before. Instead, to her utter surprise, he smiled.
Not a smirk, not a condescending twist of his lips. A real smile.
Kitty’s breath hitched.
She had never seen him smile like that before. This smile was something raw and entirely his—a slow, deliberate curving of lips that made the fine hairs at her nape rise in awareness. The way his eyes darkened as they tracked her reaction, as if he knew precisely how her stomach had just swooped…
“Well played,” Norman said, and Kitty felt something warm encircle her chest.
Cynthia’s shrill laughter dissolved the spell. “How unexpected,” she said, in a voice that was a bit too cheerful. “What amazing luck you have, Kitty.”
Kitty glanced at her, her face studiously expressionless. “Or perhaps it was skill,” she suggested, lightly, not being able to resist.
Norman’s lips twitched, but he said nothing.
“Indeed, since we have all had our fill of the game,” Lady Mulberry interrupted smoothly, “it is perhaps time we retire. There are far more enjoyable ways to spend an afternoon.”
Norman’s smile fell as he turned to her, his posture shifting almost imperceptibly. “Indeed,” he said after a pause. “But I daresay this was a pleasant diversion.”
Kitty could hardly believe her ears. Was Norman…proud of her?
Lady Mulberry, however, was not so amused. She merely bowed her head in a slow, controlled nod before pivoting on her heel and leaving. Cynthia followed her, not before giving Kitty a look which promised this would not be the end of the matter.
Kitty, unperturbed, turned back to Norman. He was looking at her in that quiet, thoughtful way of his.
“Are you surprised?” he asked.
She hesitated. “By what?”
“That I am not a sore loser.”
Kitty looked at him. “A little,” she admitted. “I was expecting some grand drama of wounded pride. Perhaps even a dramatic vow never to lose again.”
Norman sighed a small laugh. “I will admit, my pride is often quite insufferable. But today, I am content with the outcome.”
Kitty tilted her head. “And why is that?
Norman held her gaze on his, his expression unreadable. “Because,” he said, his voice softer now, “it is pleasant to see you happy.”