If He's Wild by Hannah Howell Page B

me, but they wanted to be with their father as much as he wished them to see his homeland.”
    “There is one other thing that may help in your search.” Suddenly aware of how she had grabbed hold of his hands, Alethea subtly tried to pull away from him, but he ever so slightly tightened his grip, and it was enough of an invitation that she stopped. “Germaine was dressed as a boy.” She nodded at his look of astonishment. “Her father must have thought it safer for her to do so. Even her hair was cut short, like a boy’s.”
    Hartley stared at her in shock for a moment, then abruptly yanked her into his arms and kissed her. He had the fleeting thought that this was unwise, before he lost himself in the sweetness of her kiss. It was not a gentle kiss, either. Startled by his action, she had gasped, and he had taken swift advantage of that, plunging his tongue into her mouth and savoring the heat of her, the taste of her. She tasted like more. He wanted to feel her soft pale skin rub against his and her body wrapped tightly around him.
    It took more effort than he thought it should to end the kiss. Hartley took one look at her flushed, wide-eyed face, and quickly stood up to pace the room, forcing his thoughts back to the important matter of Germaine and Bayard and off the compelling urge to indulge in more kisses. Knowing that he would soon want far more than kisses, no matter how stirring and sweet they were, alarmed him enough to help him regain his senses. Not only would seducing Alethea after all she had done for him be churlish, instinct told him it could prove very difficult to maintain the usual detachment he employed with his lovers.
    “I was so transfixed by her face, I missed seeing how short her hair was. I feel certain Germaine would contrive to continue that disguise,” he said, breaking the heavy silence that surrounded them.
    Alethea blinked, inwardly shaking free of the bemusement his kiss had caused. She clenched her hands together in her lap to repress the urge to touch her lips, lips that still held the warmth of his, lips that actually tingled slightly. The warmth of his kiss had spread rapidly through her body and was slow to dissipate. She wished he would leave for a few moments so that she could contemplate her first real kiss, and recover from it at her leisure. Sternly telling herself it had been no more than an impulsive act stemming from Hartley’s joy and raised hopes over all she had told him, Alethea fixed her attention upon the matter at hand—his lost family.
    “As do I,” she replied, pleased at how calm her voice sounded, for inside she was a tumultuous mass of emotion. “She would undoubtedly see the advantages of it.”
    His composure restored, Hartley turned to look at her. He briefly considered apologizing for taking such liberties with her person, but hastily decided against it. For one thing—it would be a lie to say he regretted the kiss. It also appeared that she was going to ignore it as well, excusing his actions as an impulsive response to the hope she had just given him, something that both relieved and annoyed him. He did not like the idea that she could ignore what had just happened or, even worse, put it out of her thoughts. Hartley shook away such strange thoughts and fixed his mind on the most important matter—rescue of his niece and nephew.
    “So, I shall have to send word that it is not a family of six we seek, but two children. Actually, a young woman and a boy, and that the young woman may well be disguised as a boy. This will narrow the searching yet also make it much more difficult.”
    “Is there nothing particularly distinguishable about her features? She looked a pretty girl.” Alethea stared at the sketch she had made and struggled to recall hair and eye color. “I doubt her features have changed all that much.”
    “Probably not, but all I have is a miniature painted when she was much younger, barely more than an infant.”
    “A problem easily