Chapter Twenty-four #2
He did not move, not towards her or away.
She pressed again. A little more firmly this time.
She did not think he was breathing. Her lips brushed over his once more and then she made to pull away.
He gave no sense he was rejecting her as she had feared, but neither was he responding and it was unfair of her to stay where she was.
Before there was more than a whisper of air between them, his hand shot up to the back of her head, holding her in place, his mouth hovering close to hers.
His heavy breathing filled the carriage, or perhaps it was hers.
The air between them intermingled and she swore she could taste him.
For long, agonising seconds, he held her in place, not moving save for the rapid rise and fall of his chest, before his mouth crushed hers.
It was not featherlight, not a soft question.
It was his soul demanding that she follow him.
She whimpered and he groaned. The stroke of his tongue against her lips made her gasp.
The first sweep of him inside her mouth was shockingly decadent.
It was messy and clumsy and desperate all at once.
She wanted to slow down, to remember every detail, but also to keep doing this forever.
Her fingers slipped into his hair until the dark strands fell over them.
Her fingernails scraped the back of his neck and he made a noise she would remember until the day she died.
Her hands continued their exploration, sweeping over his shoulders, along his jaw, his arms, back up to his chest, her artist’s hands tracing every line of him, to remember when he was no longer with her.
The rug dropped away from them as he pulled her onto his lap, his thighs firm beneath her.
The back of her mind protested, reminding her that this was not how she should behave, but being this close to him was more intoxicating than drinking brandy.
His lips skimmed along the length of her jaw, his stubble scraping against the skin of her neck; she squirmed against him as the touch made her ache.
His mouth claimed hers again and there was nothing but the feel of him against her.
One hand cradled her head, holding her at an angle while he kissed her as if she were his heart’s greatest desire.
The other traced a path along her arm, his fingers lightly brushing the edge of her neckline, along her collarbone and down.
His thumb brushed the side of her breast and he froze, his mouth still on hers but no longer moving.
Beneath her, his whole body stilled as though turned to ice.
She did not move either, even as everything in her urged her to carry on, to kiss him once more and to forget everything else in the world.
Slowly, he lifted his head and gazed down at her.
Because of the darkness, she could not read his expression, but in the firm set of his shoulders, she sensed it did not look good.
He didn’t even need to tell her why. He was an experienced man who had lost control.
She could have been anyone, but perhaps the fact that she was his pretend betrothed made it worse in his mind; perhaps he thought she might change her mind about ending their arrangement and that she might just want to marry him after all.
All that raced through her mind while he continued to sit in complete stillness.
Unbearably slowly, he lifted her from her seat on his lap and set her back down beside him.
Reaching down, he picked up the blanket and tucked it only around her.
She was shivering in earnest now, but she still did not think it was because she was cold.
Perhaps she was shocked by her actions or maybe she was afraid of whatever he was about to say.
‘I should not have done that.’ His words were like a death knell in her heart. Dramatic, maybe, but she did not want him to regret anything that happened between them, especially when she had enjoyed it so immensely.
‘Why not?’
He snorted. ‘There are about a million reasons why not.’
‘Name one.’
‘Fine. Here’s the first in the incredibly long list: a gentleman does not go around kissing gently bred, unmarried women. It is not done.’
‘I happen to know that is not true.’
‘Why? Have you done it before?’ His voice sounded darkly murderous, which was spectacularly unfair, given that there was no way that was his first kiss.
After her clumsy start, he had led all the way.
It would not have occurred to her to touch his tongue with hers; no one had ever told her about that.
But it had been strange and delicious all at once and he must have known how to go about it.
‘Of course I have not, but young women are not as dangerously naive as you men seem to think we are. There are ways around all the rules, as you well know. The reason gentlemen do not kiss women like me is that the men assume the woman will want a proposal. Well, as you and I have already agreed to end our engagement very soon, you need not think that will have turned my head. I am no more likely to fall in love with you now than I was four weeks ago.’
Perhaps her words were harsh, but he was being insulting by suggesting that she had been a passive participant during their kiss.
Had he not felt her hands as they moved over him, tracing every part she could reach so she could submit it to memory?
Did he really think that was all him and that he was solely responsible?
‘I am not suggesting anything of the sort.’ His tone was clipped and formal and different from how he had ever sounded in the past. ‘I know where your heart lies; you have been honest with me about that from the start. But let me ask you this, how do you think Robert Harber would feel about what passed between us?’
‘A few weeks ago, I should imagine he would have been upset. Now, if he found out about it, which he will not because neither of us will ever say a word, I expect he would accept that it is what betrothed couples get up to when left alone.’
‘But we are not truly betrothed.’ Christopher wasn’t shouting, but she could feel the heat in his words nonetheless, could feel them scald her heart. ‘Not in our own minds, and when you marry him, I shall know that I have done wrong by him.’
That was a great deal too much. ‘Kissing you was my choice, you great big nincompoop. If there was any wrongdoing, then it was mine alone.’ She had been feeling all lovely, and Christopher was ruining it.
If she wasn’t finding him more annoying than a wasp at a picnic, she would be surprised by his priggish behaviour.
Although, she supposed, in his defence, she could understand his worry about Robert, because she had not told him what had last transpired between them.
She was not sure whether telling him the truth would make the situation worse.
If he knew that she had cut off her happy ending, then perhaps he would panic.
She took two deep calming breaths, centring herself.
Telling him the truth about Robert would ease his guilt and that was only fair.
He would find out soon enough anyway, and not telling him would be strange.
Forcing her voice to remain calm, she said, ‘I should probably tell you that Robert spoke to me yesterday. It was as you foretold; he came to London to suggest that I break off my betrothal with you. On reflection, I decided that he and I do not suit after all. I let him down as gently as I could. I do not think his heart is broken.’
There was a thunderous pause; she could only guess at the thoughts racing through Christopher’s mind.
She had not accepted the proposal she had been expecting for years and then she had thrown herself at Christopher.
Before he could spiral in the wrong direction, she added, ‘I would have told you sooner. But there have been people around us all evening and, even if I was fine with people knowing my private affairs, I doubt Robert would want it spread about. You need not worry that this changes things between us. I have not fallen in love with you. Once we have settled on a plan to end it as discreetly and as scandal-free as possible, our betrothal will end as planned. I have not changed my mind on that.’
It would be frightening, knowing that she was alone, that no proposal was forthcoming from a man she admired and respected, but she was even more sure than ever that she had made the right decision.
What had passed between her and Christopher could never have happened between her and Robert.
They had a different relationship entirely and while she was sure that she would have been happy without ever knowing what it was like to be so desperate for someone’s kiss that she forgot the rest of the world, now that she did, it would have been a shame to have lived her whole life without experiencing such passion once.
Perhaps she would be lucky enough to feel that intensely again, although it was doubtful.
It was likely that she would have to retire to the country for at least a Season or two while everyone got over the scandal.
By then, she would be old and with a scandalous reputation, so finding a match would be even harder.
But she would never regret her decisions, including what had happened in this moment.
Never. And for all she had enjoyed Christopher’s mouth against hers, he was irritating her now.
A knock on the roof of the carriage told her that she had arrived home. She did not want to end the evening on a bad note, not when it had been one of the best nights of her life. Taking a deep breath, she willed herself to calm down.
‘Christopher.’
‘Sophia.’ It was hard to tell what he was thinking from that one word, but no matter.
‘It was I who kissed you.’ At this, he grunted. ‘It was. I am not reading too much into it. I am not planning our wedding. I am not going to run in and tell my sisters every detail that has passed between us. Let us forget it and carry on as we were before.’
It took him an age to answer. ‘Very well. If that is what you want.’ There was still no inflection in his voice.
‘Are you cross with me?’ she asked, because she could not bear it if she had ruined this friendship between them.
‘No. I am not.’
‘You sound as if you might be. I promise you, Christopher, nothing has changed. Do not feel I am trying to trap you into something you do not want.’ She could not bear it if he thought that.
They had both been honest with one another from the start.
She knew how much his freedom to travel abroad without ties meant to him; she would never forget the way his eyes shone whenever he talked about seeing the world.
She had always said she did not want to change him.
Even after that earth-shattering kiss, she had not changed her mind.
His exhale was long. ‘I am not worried about that. I…’ He exhaled again and she would have teased him about having no air left inside but now did not seem the time.
‘You say you kissed me and perhaps that is true, but it was I who took it too far. I am trying to be less reckless and I think I proved to both of us that I am as I ever was.’
‘You are too hard on yourself. There were two people here this evening and only one of us started things. That was not you.’
There was another knock on the roof; a timely reminder that they were sitting inside the carriage outside her home.
They did not want anyone in her family coming out and finding Kate and Edward were not in the carriage with them.
Even her family, who were more relaxed than other members of the Ton, would not be able to accept that they had been alone in a dark carriage, when Sophia announced the betrothal was over.
‘I should go,’ she said.
‘Of course. Let me see you inside.’
At the door, Peterson was all smiles for them, saying that her family were already home safely and offering refreshments for Christopher and the other people in the carriage should they want them.
For a brief moment she wondered if the old family retainer had guessed they were alone and was prying, but then she remembered that the man was merely performing his role to the best of his ability.
Christopher declined the offer and bid her a final goodbye.
He was as friendly as ever, but the light from the foyer spilled onto the doorstep and she could see an unknown emotion lurking in his eyes.
As he walked away, she worried that she had ruined things forever.