Marguerite Kaye - The Lady Who Broke the Rules

He meant merely to show her that he understood. That he admired her. That he had not judged her as her family had. A token gesture of solidarity, that’s what he intended. But when his lips touched the delicate skin his intentions changed. Her scent, the taste of her, turned his empathy into desire.

She stilled, her eyes fixed on his when he looked up, wide, startled, but she made no move to pull away. A pulse fluttered at her neck. Entranced, Virgil could not resist touching it. The diamond drops in her ears glinted in the sunlight. He pressed his lips to her skin. It was cold and smooth. She breathed in sharply, but did not pull away. ‘Extraordinary,’ Virgil repeated softly. The air was still, save for the contented sound of the horse champing on the grass by the wayside. There was no one else in sight. He shifted on the narrow bench, his knees pressing into her thigh. Still she didn’t move. Her scent, flowery and already imprinted on his mind, made him think of summer meadows. His heart was beating in time to that fluttering pulse of hers. ‘Kate,’ he said, thinking that her name suited her precisely.

Admiration leached into wanting. He covered her mouth with his own, pausing just a second lest she protest. She did not. Her lips were so soft. She tasted of peaches or apricots or strawberries, sweet and lush. He slipped his arm around her back and pulled her closer. So long it had been since he had kissed a woman. His other hand he used to push back her hat and his mouth shaped hers so easily, so naturally, that he forgot to think about whether he could remember what to do, and sank into her kiss as if he had been waiting to do so from the moment they met.

Kate closed her eyes. Such a gentle touch he had. And the look in his eyes, as if he could see the feelings she kept parcelled up deep inside her. His mouth was warm. His kiss made her feel as if the sun had strengthened. His lips moved over hers slowly, tasting her, seeming to want nothing but to savour her. It made her skin tingle. It made her want. Just want. The purity of it gave her a pang. The simplicity of it, the ease of it, as if their mouths were made for each other, made her wonder. The gentleness made her want to cry.

But as she reached up to touch his hair, as she nestled closer, as she sank into the sensual haze of his kiss, Virgil pulled away. ‘I guess I should apologise for that.’

Kate blinked and touched her fingers to her lips. He sounded singularly unrepentant. She ought to be insulted, but in fact this realisation was pleasing. ‘Mr Jackson …’

‘I wish you would call me Virgil. Hardly anyone does.’

It was a relief to see that he looked slightly dazed, because that was exactly how Kate felt. Or was it dazzled? Were kisses supposed to make you feel like that? Not in her experience. ‘Virgil,’ she said. ‘I like it. Your name, I mean. I like your name.’ And his kisses. She didn’t want him to think she didn’t like his kisses, but she couldn’t very well tell him that. She fanned her cheeks.

Virgil took her hand, stroking the pulse at her wrist with his thumb. ‘I haven’t wanted to kiss anyone in a long time.’

‘Then that makes two of us,’ Kate said with a husky little laugh. His touch was making her even hotter. ‘How long?’

‘Not since Anthony.’ Had she ever wanted to kiss Anthony? She must have done, else she would not have … ‘What about you?’

Virgil shrugged. ‘A while.’

‘Days? Weeks? Months?’ Kate persisted. ‘Years?’ she squeaked, disbelievingly.

‘A while.’

He dropped her hand, moving away from her, as far as the gig’s limited seating allowed. She wanted to probe, but she knew better than to do so. Whatever a while was, it was surprising. Astonishing that a man as attractive, as assured, as Virgil had kissed no one. Though not as astounding as the fact that he had kissed her! She wanted to know why. Or did she? Perhaps ignorance in this case truly was bliss. Kate untangled the reins from the brake. ‘I hope it was worth the wait,’ she said, resorting to her customary glibness.

‘Have we much further to go?’ Virgil asked some time later.

Kate shook her head. ‘We’ve been on Montague land for the past couple of miles. The farmers here are all my father’s tenants.’

‘Good God, I didn’t realise he owned so much.’

‘Well, it’s not really my father but the dukedom. The land is all entailed, so he can’t sell it, and he can’t bequeath it to anyone other than Jam—I mean, Giles. Giles is the heir. Or at least he is at the moment. That may well all be about to change.’

‘How so?’

Kate grimaced. ‘It’s complicated. I should have told you. I’ve invited you into a hornet’s nest, but I so wanted you to come with me. I didn’t really think about it last night, but—oh, God, the truth is that we’re actually in a bit of a mess,’ she said. ‘Are you angry?’

‘How can I be, when I don’t know what you’re talking about?’

‘Yes. Of course. Sorry. Well, it seems that my brother Jamie took a wife in Spain just before he—he died. We knew nothing about it until a few months ago, when my father received a letter from the woman demanding that we do right by her son who is, she claims, Jamie’s heir. You can imagine the uproar that caused. My brother Giles suspects the whole thing is an elaborate fraud but Ross—he is my cousin—met the woman, and seemed fairly convinced by her. So now Giles, who is the heir at the moment but might not really be the heir, has sent my brother Harry—who is the next in line to Giles but of course is further out if this child … well, anyway, Harry is off to Spain to see what he can discover, and in the meantime my father, who is most anxious to detach his grandson from what he has called the scheming wretch, has insisted that they both come to Castonbury.’ Kate drew a breath and laughed at Virgil’s expression. ‘I told you, it’s complicated.’

‘Extremely,’ Virgil said, amused by her method of recounting the tale, dismayed by its content.

‘The reason I had to come home today is because Giles has demanded a sort of family counsel of war.’

‘And knowing all this, you still insisted I accompany you! Surely your time will be quite taken up with these matters, and my presence in the midst of it all can only be an inconvenience at best.’

Kate slowed the horse down as they rounded a bend in the lane, pulling the gig to a halt at a large wooden gate. ‘You are angry. I’m sorry, I ought to have told you sooner, but I so wanted you to come to Castonbury and I was afraid that you would not, and that is the truth.’ She transferred the reins to one hand, placing her other on Virgil’s sleeve. ‘I’m glad that you’re here.’

He covered her hand with his, and smiled crookedly down at her. ‘Thank you, but I think perhaps I should not make it such a long visit.’

‘We’ll see,’ Kate said, deciding wisely not to push her luck. ‘Now, look over there.’ She pointed her whip. ‘That is Castonbury Park.’

The field by which they had stopped was on a rise, looking down on the house. Behind them, the trees which bordered the lane through which they had been driving would provide a pleasant perspective. The house itself was perfectly symmetrical with matching wings set to the east and west. In the centre of the building, a domed roof gave it a distinctive appearance, more like a classical Roman villa or place of worship than a family home. Though it was difficult to see the detail at this distance, it looked as if the architect had been an admirer of the classical style, for there were pediments and pillars, the rustic stonework of the ground floor giving way to the smooth finish on the piano nobile , from which a grand staircase curved down to the neatly manicured lawns. He had expected something flamboyantly grand, but the perfect proportions were so beautiful that he could not but admire them.