earlier today, your position here as governess is safe. Or if you would prefer it, I will assist you to find another situation. Given everything that has transpired between us, I can understand that you might feel uncomfortable remaining here at Hartfield Hall. The decision is yours.”
“Really? You would do that?” How strange to think a rakehell like Sir Nicholas should have a sudden attack of conscience. Or that he was willing to overlook her shocking transgression.
“Really.” Sir Nicholas smiled a little and took a step closer to her. His musky, sandalwood scent stirred her blood almost as much as his next words. “On the other hand, and you can correct me if I’m wrong, I suspect a spirited soul like you finds being a governess rather mundane. A safe but entirely drudging existence. I think you crave excitement and passion just like I do.”
Abigail swallowed. Dear Lord, how easily he reads me.
Reaching out, Sir Nicholas brushed an errant tendril of her hair away from her rain-damp cheek and tucked it behind her ear. Such a simple gesture, yet Abigail shivered with awareness. “I think you and I will suit each other very well. But I only want you to enter into this proposed arrangement if you are sure it is something you want too.” And then his hand fell away. And he waited.
The sound of drumming rain filled the silence between them for one long moment. A moment taut with expectation as Abigail considered her options.
And then she drew in a fortifying breath and stepped over the precipice of no return. “There is something you could do that might help me make a decision. One way or the other.”
Amusement sparked in Sir Nicholas’s eyes. “I’m open to any reasonable suggestion. What do you have in mind?”
“I’d like you to kiss me.”
The corner of Sir Nicholas’s mobile mouth curled into a smile. “Well, I’m more than happy to oblige, Miss Adams.”
Her body thrumming with anticipation, Abigail’s breath caught as Sir Nicholas’s hand slid to her waist, drawing her closer; even that light touch seemed to sear her through her clothes. Lifting her chin with gentle fingers, his gaze traced over her face before focusing on her mouth.
Dear God, even the way he looked at her made her burn. Made her pulse dance a wild rhythm. What would it be like when his lips touched hers? Impatience made her restless. Curling her fingers into the lapels of his coat, she grumbled, “Why do you delay, sir? Is there something wrong?”
Another seductive smile. “This is our first kiss, Miss Adams. I’m savoring the moment.”
“Is that what you call it? It feels more like torture.”
“Hush.” Sir Nicholas’s thumb brushed across her bottom lip, effortlessly fanning the flames of her desire. And then at long last, he framed her face with his large hands and lowered his mouth to hers.
And Abigail melted.
Yes. Lips, firm and warm, moved over hers with consummate skill. Coaxing and arousing. Setting her entire body alight with a need she could no longer ignore. With a moan she yielded to the hot flicker of his tongue across the seam of her lips. Let him in, let him taste and explore her with a thoroughness that made her head spin.
It had been so, so long since she’d been held like this. Touched like this. Ravished like this. Her memories of being kissed were but insubstantial shadows compared to the blazing reality of this wonderfully erotic encounter. Spearing her fingers into the short, silky hair at Sir Nicholas’s nape, she dragged him closer and tasted him back, relishing the velvet rasp of his tongue against hers, his rich taste. His heat. His hard, masculine strength.
His lust.
As soon as one incendiary kiss ended, another began. When Abigail nipped at Sir Nicholas’s lower lip, he growled in appreciation and backed her into the oak-paneled wall beside the window. Pressed against the long, powerful length of him, Abigail could feel every hard contour of his body. His burgeoning