Page 44 of A Scot on Duchess Square
He sighed, knowing he should probably keep his mouth shut because she was not ready to hear what he desired to tell her.
But he told her anyway. “I have strong feelings for ye, as ye well know.”
She did not look away from his gaze. “I know, or you would not be standing here while I perused a shelf full of the most boring books written since the dawn of time.”
He chuckled again, but shook his head. “I could stand here for hours with ye and never lose patience—just dinna be so cruel as to put me to the test.”
He glanced around to make certain Gwenys and the bookshop owner were still on the opposite end of the store. “Ye look beautiful, by the way.”
“You are looking quite nice yourself,” she remarked, surprising him.
“I’m going to kiss ye, Miranda.”
Her eyes widened and she turned to gaze around the shop. “Here? Now?”
He had meant later if they ever managed a private moment, but why not now? They were the only ones in the shop, and the owner was busy showing Gwenys those poetry books.
And Gwenys had purposely left them to themselves.
Miranda ought to have protested or become indignant upon his making the comment. He found it of particular significance that she did not.
Gad, he was thick when it came to understanding ladies. Had she wanted him to kiss her all along?
He drew her closer.
Her body was delightfully soft, and he inhaled her scent that was as fresh and lovely as a freshly baked apple pie, warm from the oven, and sprinkled with cinnamon and raisins.
Och, he was famished for her.
She glanced around again. “This really isn’t proper. How can—”
He kissed her.
It was a scorching kiss meant to burn into her heart and claim her as his own because there was no way he ever wanted to be without her.
He meant to conquer her, plunder those honey lips of hers, and also offer his surrender, because he wanted her to know that his heart was as much devoted to hers as he hoped, in time, hers would be to his.
The kiss was hot and devouring. So was his need for her.
Her lips were achingly sweet as she gave in and matched the press of her lips to his, except that she was gentler and responded with some hesitation, of course. It was obvious she had not been kissed in fifteen years.
Bollocks.
He should have thought of this before ravishing her behind a bookshelf. Did she not deserve better?
But it was done, and she was kissing him back, so he put every ounce of himself into this first one between them, kissing her deeply and thoroughly, tasting the hints of honey and lemon she had put into her tea this morning, as he took possession of her, body and soul.
Since it would not do to have them caught with his hands all over her and his mouth suckling a searing trail along her neck, he drew away with the greatest reluctance. “Well, that was a bit more than I had planned,” he said, not really feeling sorry at all as he regained control of himself. He loosened his hold so that his hands were merely resting on her hips to ensure she was holding steady on her feet.
“Yes, rather a surprise,” she said, her eyes still closed and her splendid lips rosy pink and parted.
She was tilting toward him. A good sign, he supposed.
Alas, this splendid moment had been all too brief. Kissing her again was out of the question. He was on the brink and might not stop with just a kiss, because her willingness had caught himoff guard. Despite his aching desire for her, he wasn’t going to seduce her in the middle of a bookshop.
“Miranda, are ye all right?”
She ought to have been angry. Yet he knew she wasn’t, for she was showing all the signs of pleasure. Her hands were fisted on the lapels of his jacket and her lovely body remained leaning toward him. Och, she felt exquisite while lightly pressed against him.
