Chapter 22 #2
But underneath all the achingly sweet tenderness of Lord Kinsale’s kisses—because by now, Mina couldn’t deny that what they were sharing was a series of kisses—desire bloomed.
Especially when Lord Kinsale’s hand, the one at her back, slid forward to splay over her ribcage and his thumb skimmed the underside of her breast. That particular caress, fleeting though it was, provoked a shiver of unbridled delight inside Mina, and her nipples tightened in the most scandalous way.
Indeed, it seemed as though Lord Kinsale was effortlessly awakening sensations inside Mina that she’d never experienced before.
Delightfully wicked flutters that were stirring in secret, entirely feminine places.
Mina’s limbs felt as soft and malleable as sun-warmed butter, yet other parts of her quivered and pulsed and ached as though they needed to be touched and stroked as well.
The places she sometimes touched when she was alone in her bed …
Oh, how wanton she was becoming. This was supposed to be just a kissing lesson, but Mina sensed that she was learning so much more. Not just about passion and the all-consuming pleasure of being kissed by a man, but about herself and her needs … and how desperately she wanted Lord Kinsale.
They’d both asserted they were merely friends. That this “academic” exercise in learning to kiss was a once-only event. But Mina knew they’d both been lying to each other and to themselves. This felt like the beginning of something, not the ending. And Mina had no idea what to do about it.
She might be able to deny herself cake on a regular basis. But would she be strong enough to resist the sweet temptation of Lord Kinsale’s kisses when she saw the man every single day and night?
Could she stop herself falling headlong into love?
Oh, that would surely be an unmitigated disaster.
Only one thing was certain in her mind as the marquess eventually pulled away and stared down at her, chest heaving, his green eyes glowing with desire and some other emotion Mina was too afraid to put a name to: Losing her heart to her employer was yet another problem she would have to add to her growing list of “Complications Hermina Davenport could really do without.”
“Well, how did I do, Miss Davenport?” asked Lord Kinsale. His mouth had curved into a wide satisfied smile that only made Mina’s heart swell with even more unwanted longing. “Do you feel as though I fulfilled our contract? Did me lesson meet your expectations?”
Mina exhaled a shaky breath. Lord Kinsale’s large hand was still resting lightly on her waist and his lean hips and muscular thighs were still pushing against her skirts, no doubt crushing them, but she didn’t have the will or the desire to ask him to move away.
Which did not augur well for her ability to resist temptation in the future.
“You … you certainly did meet my expectations, my lord. Your demonstration was particularly … comprehensive.” Despite the reservations brewing and bubbling in the back of her mind, she smiled.
“I feel as though I’ve been thoroughly enlightened.
I am in the dark no more about kissing.”
“Well, perhaps the most important question is”—Lord Kinsale caught a lock of her no doubt disheveled hair and wound it around his finger before letting it slide off—“are you satisfied, Miss Davenport? Because surely satisfaction is the true measure of whether a kiss is everythin’ that it should be. ”
Satisfied? In one sense, yes. Lord Kinsale’s kisses had been a dream come true. He’d kissed like a fairy-tale prince and she was the princess he wished to woo and wed. Being in his arms, having his mouth tutor hers so expertly, had been pure bliss.
But in a whole host of other ways, Mina was far from satisfied.
Her greedy heart, indeed, her entire body was thrumming with a yearning so intense that surely Lord Kinsale must sense it.
She wanted countless blissful kisses. Infinite kisses.
She wanted Lord Kinsale to kiss her to the end of her days.
But she couldn’t admit to any of that because he was a marquess and she wasn’t a princess.
She wasn’t even a gentlewoman. She was a duplicitous governess with far too many secrets.
A happy-ever-after with Lord Kinsale wasn’t written in her stars.
So Mina answered the marquess’s question about whether she was satisfied, the only way she could.
She forced another smile and lied. “Completely and utterly.”
“Good,” Lord Kinsale said. He took a step back and his gaze darted to the kitchen clock.
“It’s well after three, Miss Davenport. We both need our beauty sleep.
” Then he released a soft chuckle. “Well, some more than others. Even if I slept for a thousand years”—he gestured at his slightly crooked nose—“I doubt it would make any difference to this battered visage.”
Mina dared to reach out and straighten a wrinkle in Lord Kinsale’s silk waistcoat. “I don’t know. I think ruggedly handsome men with a few battle scars hold a certain appeal for some women.”
He cocked a dark brow and his eyes gleamed with amusement and something else, which Mina thought might be wickedness. “You do, do you?”
“Oh, definitely,” she returned. Then she drew a brave breath and said something she didn’t want to say but most definitely had to. “You’d be surprised, my lord. I’m sure that when you grace high society’s ballrooms, you’ll have any number of wellbred ladies lining up to waltz with you.”
There she’d done it. She’d emphasized how far apart they were in terms of social status. How wide the gulf dividing her class and his really was.
Lord Kinsale’s expression changed. His brow furrowed for a moment, but then he smiled.
“You still need to give me a dancin’ lesson or two before I do that, lass,” he said as he reached past her and opened the kitchen door.
“But that can wait until the morrow. Or at least until we’re both rested.
” He nodded at the darkened corridor beyond the kitchen.
“I’ll bid you good night here, Miss Davenport.
You go up to your room first. I’ll tidy up the tea things. ”
“Oh no,” began Mina. “I couldn’t let you do—”
But Lord Kinsale held up his hand. “You wouldn’t be arguin’ with your employer now, would you, Miss Davenport? Aside from that, I’m sure you wouldn’t want any of the other servants wonderin’ what you and I have both been up to at this late hour in the kitchen. I know I certainly wouldn’t.”
“No,” said Mina softly. “You’re quite right, my lord. Thank you. For everything. And good night.”
Had Lord Kinsale noticed the note of regret in her voice? She hardly knew. Lifting her skirts, Mina pushed past him and hurried away before she did something mad and foolish and threw herself back into the man’s strong arms again. Before she begged him to kiss her and never let her go.
It was only when Mina was back in her bedroom and had begun to shed her governess’s garb that she realized something quite extraordinary.
After their “kissing lesson,” when Lord Kinsale had spoken to her, he hadn’t stammered. Not once. His speech had been as smooth as his silken waistcoat.
As smooth as his slick-as-butter kisses.
Mina pressed her fingers to her lips, which were still slightly swollen. Could it be that the act of kissing somehow alleviated the marquess’s stutter?
Surely not. There’d been nothing in her little green elocution guidebook about “kissing” being a tried-and-true treatment method for remediating stammering.
But … but perhaps the act of kissing somehow relaxed the marquess. What if it reduced the tension in his oral musculature and throughout his entire body? What if it calmed his mind?
That made sense to Mina. It couldn’t be that their kisses had been “magical.”
Well, they had been to her, and she would cherish the experience.
Always. She’d lock the precious memory of it in her heart and perhaps one day, when she no longer worked for Lord Kinsale, she would take it out and remember the night when the marquess had made her feel so very special and perfect and wanted.
It wasn’t just the night that he’d kissed her. It was the night when he’d whispered her first name, the one those close to her used. Mina. She’d only said it to him once. On the occasion when they’d first met aboard the Kinsale Cloud in fact.
And he’d remembered.
Perhaps that had been the most magical gift of all.