Free Lily (Flower Trilogy) by Lauren Royal Page A

Chrystabel pointedly scanned the room. “Where is the maid I arranged for?
    Did she never show up?” She turned to Lily. “Perhaps you can assist Rand with his packing.”
    “I—” Lily started.
    “That’s my Lily.” Without waiting for her agreement, Mum turned to look down the stairwell. “Arabel!” she shouted. “Don’t you dare leave without a bottle of perfume!” And before Lily could say anything, she was gone.
    Lily shifted her gaze to Rand, then suppressed a smile when she saw him roll up a pair of breeches. With a sigh, she walked into the room. “Let me help you with that.”
    “I can do it myself, although I cannot fathom why the maid unpacked everything. I brought enough for a two-week stay, but not here.”
    “She wasn’t privy to your plans.” She took the garment and folded it neatly, although it felt a bit scandalous to be handling his clothes. “As soon as some of these people leave, there will be more help.”
    Lady and Jasper watched from the sill, holding a noisy conversation. “What could a squirrel and a bird possibly be discussing?” Rand asked, then didn’t wait for her to answer. “I told Ford I’d be back in an hour. He wants to work some more on the translation.”
    She moved to set the breeches in his trunk. “Ford can wait.”

    When Rand didn’t respond to that, she looked up to find he had followed her. In fact, he was looming over her, near enough that her skin prickled in reaction.
    “I cannot,” he said, his voice suddenly lower and husky.
    “What?” She blinked.
    “I cannot wait. To kiss you.”
    A sudden awareness began pulsing through her veins.
    “My lord—”
    “Rand.”
    “Rand,” she whispered. He was so close she could smell him, soap and the faint remnants of all those warring perfumes, layered over his own unique scent. The scent that was Rand. And he wanted to kiss her. Her lips tingled with the memory of last night’s kiss, so innocent and yet so affecting. She wanted that again . . . that and more.
    Rose. She’d promised Rose. She backed up toward the corridor, her gaze darting around the chamber. “The door is open.”
    He followed her—and reached around her to shut it.
    “Now it’s not.”
    She backed away more until she was smack up against it.
    He followed her again, his hands descending on her shoulders. “I very much wish to kiss you.”
    His fingers felt warm, even through the fitted jacket of her riding habit, their imprints sending a rush of sensation through her. Her mouth dried, and she licked her lips. “I very much wish . . .”
    “What?”
    She could hardly breathe. “I’m not certain.”
    “Yes, you are.” His eyes glowed silver, a mixture of confidence and desire. “You want to kiss me, too.”
    “Maybe. But . . . I cannot.”
    “Oh,” he said, “I think you can.”

    His mouth on hers was gentle, like it had been the night before. Still, even that light touch made her dizzy.
    Finding it impossible to think clearly, she reached to wind her arms around his neck. His hands slipped behind her, between her body and the door, and settled on the small of her back to draw her against him.
    He felt warm, solid. She moved even closer and fit her curves to his. A low groan rose from his throat, and his lips slanted more urgently, coaxing hers to open.
    Lily knew about this kind of kiss—after all, she was the youngest of three sisters. She’d anticipated the day she might try it, with both excitement and some trepidation. It had sounded . . . well, rather messy, and not entirely pleasant, no matter that she’d been assured otherwise.
    So it was with some apprehension that she responded to the pressure of his mouth, opening her lips the barest measure. His tongue traced a slow line between, and she shivered and opened wider, giving him what he wanted.
    And goodness, she wanted it, too. His tongue invaded further, teasing hers with a heavenly skill that made her weak in the knees. Her eyes drifted closed. Her arms