After the Kiss by Karen Ranney Page A

indrawn breath was captured, held, then released on a sigh as he trailed a delicate pattern inside the material, against her skin. She shivered in response.
    A taboo, that touch.
    “Margaret, say yes,” he whispered.
    When she remained silent, he continued. “I want to know why I can’t forget you.”
    She turned slowly and looked up at him.
    “It’s only a kiss, Margaret,” he urged. “And once it’s done, this fascination will be over.”
    “One kiss,” she said, attempting to appear as worldly as he. In truth, her heart was beating a strange tattoo, one of skipped beats and sheer excitement.
    Slowly, she tilted her chin up, closed her eyes. Waited in an agony of expectancy. A thousand starlings flew in her chest, and her cheeks were heated as if by a brazier. Her lips were full, expectant and waiting, and her breathing sounded too harsh, as if she had run a great distance.
    But instead of the warm brush of his lips upon hermouth, she felt the slow stroke of his thumb across her lips. She opened her eyes to discover him smiling down into her face.
    “Not here. I want to kiss you somewhere where we will not be interrupted.”
    She blinked at him, suddenly uncertain.
    Montraine smiled softly, almost dispassionately, turned, and walked to the sideboard.
    Surreptitiously, she pressed a hand to her chest. Her breasts felt hard, achy.
    He picked up her belongings, returned to her side. He handed her the reticule and the Journal , then helped her arrange the shawl around her shoulders.
    At the door he turned and held out his hand. She stared wide-eyed at him. A look passed between them, one of questions asked and answered. Did she want to go with him? Almost desperately. Was it wise? No. Was he a man to trust? She had felt safe with him from the beginning, but trust was not what she felt at this particular moment.
    One kiss. A lure, an invitation. An impossible attraction to resist. Desire was a word found only in the Journals of Augustin X , never in her life. One kiss, that was all.
    Perhaps, after all, what she wanted was to build up a store of memories for when she was old. I kissed an earl, she might say to her students, and the young girls would giggle.
    She smiled, stretched out her hand, and went with him.

Chapter 8
    A strong heartbeat, felt at a lover’s elbow,
reveals his stamina and ability.
    The Journals of Augustin X
    T ogether they left the Earl of Babidge’s house, encountering only the majordomo at the door. Montraine nodded briskly at the man, and he stepped back, deferential in a way he had never been to Margaret.
    If she had been the butler she would have been quelled by that look. As it was, she found herself fascinated.
    Montraine walked to the hack, dismissed him with a few words, then returned to her side. Silently emanating from him was an authority more effective than another man’s boast.
    Without a word, he led her to a gleaming ebony carriage drawn by four matched bays. A footman jumped from the back and opened the door for her.Montraine said nothing as she hesitated, simply stood aside for her to precede him.
    She mounted the steps and entered the carriage. Montraine settled into the seat in front of her, his back to the horses. The curtains were open, but she didn’t pretend an interest in the scenery. Instead, she met his gaze.
    “A difficult journey to make with one footstep,” she said. “From modest and proper to heedless.” Abandoned.
    “Are you feeling heedless, Margaret?” he asked, a smile curving his lips.
    “Yes,” she admitted. Danger. Why didn’t she feel it? Instead, anticipation curled in the pit of her stomach.
    “Are there any little Esterlys claiming your attention?” he asked suddenly.
    “I have no children,” she softly said. It was a sadness with which she’d learned to live.
    “No maiden aunts, no uncles, no parents in reserve?”
    “No,” she said. Except for Penelope, there was no one. But the bond between them was one of friendship, not