An Unexpected Encounter ( Half Moon House, Novella 1) by Deb Marlowe Page B

at her wrist. “Both of those
men are proud, blind fools.” His finger traveled, trailing up soft
fabric of her sleeve until he reached the fair, silky skin of her
nape. He allowed it to rest there, feeling the swift patter of her
pulse, watching the breath move quickly through her parted lips.
“And you—you are a treasure.”
    Again, she held so still that he feared she
was about to pull away. She kept her eyes downcast. The shadows
were thickening now, beneath the trees.
    He’d kept himself quiet and dark, like this
spot, for so long. Channeled all of his energy and passion into the
one bright spot of his mechanical work. No longer. Miss
Moreteon—Lisbeth—was working on him, like the sun and the
inevitable turn of the earth worked on frozen winter ground. Blood
surged in him with the force of a river in flood. His temperature
hiked high enough to heat the vicinity, to curl the leaves on the
trees. God knows he’d fought, but she was dragging him forcibly,
violently back to life.
    He broke, sliding his hand around to cup her
nape. Easing down, he erased the distance between them and captured
her mouth with his.
    She made a noise. Neither protest nor
surrender. Perhaps just at last . That’s what he felt as his
lips moved over the wonder of her mouth.
    She gave way beneath him, pulling him in,
calling him closer. He followed and one of her hands crept upward,
taking its time, drifting higher until it reached his shoulder and
spread wide. Her other hand tucked into his waist. Ah, but her
mouth? Her mouth opened wide, tempting, beckoning him with velvet
softness.
    He answered, sliding deep to taste her, claim
her. Damn the other men in her life for fools, but Edmund was
neither blind nor stupid. He tugged her against him, branding her
with his body and his deepening kiss. She sighed, melted against
him with a breathless sigh—but she gave him more than surrender.
She kissed him back with growing confidence—and the world shifted.
This. This was what he’d been waiting for. His question, her
answer, the perfect fit of her against him—it was a gift. With a
pounding heart, he accepted it.
    “Miss Moreton?” Aurelia’s call came from
beyond the trees. “Sir?”
    He pulled away, stared down into Lisbeth’s
bemused face. His hands, his body, they had not yet caught on to
the interruption. He held her tight still, pressed all along her
curve and sway, reluctant to let go.
    She made a soft sound, of pleasure and
regret. Began to move away. He fought not to snatch her back. So
long. So long since he had allowed himself to want. Now, like a
river trapped behind a dam, want and need grew deeper, climbed
higher, threatened to spill over.
    “Miss Moreton?” The first, shrill note of
panic sounded in Aurelia’s voice.
    Lisbeth reached out. She let her hand rest
for a moment on his chest, over his heart. Surely she felt the wild
beating of it against her fingers. “Thank you,” she whispered.
    Moving away, she called for Aurelia and
stepped back into the light.
     

Chapter Seven

    “Yes, the Tierney girl,” James said to one of
Cotwell’s servants. “I am one of her trustees. I’ve come to see how
she’s getting on.”
    Lord, he was so far gone he didn’t blink an
eye at the lie. He’d barely given Freddy’s girl a second thought
since he’d sent her here—because truly, who on God’s earth could
rightly expect him to look after a child? But Lisbeth—that was
another matter. He hadn’t been able to think of anything else since
he’d caught that glimpse of that woman outside his rooms. He
couldn’t even be sure it had been her. After all, he could think of
no discernible connection with Cotwell. It must have been a trick
played by his guilty, drink-fogged mind.
    His acquaintance with shame had never been
extensive—and he didn’t enjoy renewing it now. Beyond guilt and
shame, though, he felt truly sorry. Lisbeth had been a friend.
Failing her might be the worst thing he’d done in his