Free A Lesson in Chemistry With Inspector Bruce by Jillian Stone Page B

wasn’t . . .”
    Fiona felt a twitch at the ends of her mouth. “As I said, your staff does seem unusually . . . admiring.”
    Archie met her gaze directly, then exhaled an exasperated, decidedly masculine sigh. The kind she occasionally heard from her father when Mother was being particularly trying. “I would just like you to know—even though this will seem awkward and . . . premature—whatever transpired between Miss Mowbray and myself is long in the past.”
    Fiona’s heart was pounding so loudly, she could barely hear his words. She was quite sure Archie was implying an interest in her, beyond that of teacher and pupil. A gray dusk had settled over the city and the lamplighters were out and about. Her gaze swept from the street scene to Archie. “It may well be in your past, but I’m not so sure about Miss Mowbray’s.”
    “I will insist she curb her remarks, but I’m afraid I must ask you to pay little mind to what she says in the days ahead.” He rubbed his hand over the stubble of chin beard. “Ouch.” He shook his hand, and turned it palm side up. Fiona peered over his shoulder.
    “Quite a nasty burn,” she said. “I have something wonderful—near miraculous—for that when we get home.”
    Archie grinned. “A secret Rose and Company salve?” Fiona leaned close, to get a better look at the injury. Gently, she traced a finger over the circular outline of red in his palm. “From the scorching hot doorknob?”
    He nodded. “Must be, though I don’t remember it hurting much at the time.”
    “And when might you have thought about the pain? When you were sent flying down the stairs?” She looked up into his lovely dark eyes. “You could have been badly injured, or worse, and I would have . . .” Fiona caught herself before she said something . . . premature.
    Liquid brown eyes glowed in the evening lamplight. “And you would have . . . ?” His gaze dropped to her mouth.
    “I . . . would have . . .” Her voice was barely a whisper. A piece of netting had fallen in her face, which he returned to her hat brim. His body was hard and warm against hers, and so close she could easily detect the subtle mystery of his man scent. They were so very close now, a sudden lurch of the carriage might be all it would take. . . .
    “Kiss me again, Fiona.”
    She taunted him with a narrowed gaze. “If I kiss you now, we won’t be able to keep our minds on schoolwork.”
    “If you don’t kiss me now,” his breath buffeted softly against her lips, “concentration will be impossible.” Then, as if the streets of London had conspired with Cupid himself, the carriage hit a bump in the road.

Chapter Seven
    V elvet lips pressed gently to his own. And Archie responded to her, deepening the kiss. “Good God, I have missed this mouth,” he murmured. He probed with his tongue, teasing her lips open, and she returned his ardor with a surprising intensity. Her lips brushed back over his as her tongue tangled and thrilled his own, heightening his desire.
    Quite suddenly the carriage stopped.
    Breaking the kiss, his mouth traveled to the tip of her chin and down the hollow of her throat. He swept an arm around her waist and pressed her against his chest—felt the rise and fall of her breasts, heard her soft, sweet moan. Mysteriously, his tongue found a sensitive spot behind her ear and she trembled. Good God, his entire body thrummed with his physical need of her. He’d wanted her for years, and now he held her in his arms again. “It appears we have arrived at Rose and Company, chemists to the tony Knightsbridge set.”
    Fiona eased away, and he released her just enough to capture her gaze. He was about to ask if the kiss they’d shared was as good as the one of memory, but she reached behind her and pressed the door latch. “Come, Alfred,” she coaxed, and climbed down from the cab.
    Bewildered by her sudden exit, he handed over the leash, paid the driver, and followed her