Page 34

She hastily cleared her throat, hoping that it would help her conceal the fact that she was unable to reveal that part of her life.

“Well then… Jonathan will teach you,” Lady Kirdale suddenly said, stunning Ciara. “Won’t you, Jonathan?”

As it turned out, Jonathan was as shocked as Ciara was by her suggestion. Seeing his reluctance, Ciara immediately responded, “I do not wish to impose,” feeling a bit out of place.

“Nonsense,” Lady Kirdale insisted, with a playful nudge to Jonathan’s side. “It will be his pleasure to teach his wife.”

Jonathan obviously caught his cousin’s determined look, and he turned to Ciara with a polite tone, “Of course, Duchess. I would be delighted to teach you.”

“Splendid!” Rebecca said, taking a step back. “Why don’t you two take a few moments for Her Grace to get acquainted with the rules? I shall wait over there by the shade then once you are ready to commence, we can start the game.”

Before either Ciara or Jonathan could say anything, they were left together, alone, with the game Pall Mall looming over them, demanding something neither of them was quite certain what it was.

Teach someone?He had never been very good at teaching anyone anything. He didn’t have the patience for it. However, the thought of being allowed and even encouraged to stand behind Ciara, dangerously close, touching her even in an effort to show her how to hold the mallet and how to swing it, entertained him beyond description.

He could sense her nervousness as her fingers fidgeted, playing with her dress. Her confession of not knowing the game surprised him, but the following explanation, or what he was offered as an explanation, evoked a sense of empathy in him, something he didn’t usually feel for others.

“All right,” he began warmly. “Let us commence with the basic rules.”

He picked up a mallet and handed it to her, their fingers brushing lightly. Although the touch was barely there, his body reacted to it with an eruption of desire. He couldn’t understand how something so innocent and chaste could evoke such naughty images in his mind.

Usually, a woman would have to seduce him with everything she had for him to be this attracted to her. Yet, Ciara was not even trying. It was simply who she was that mesmerized him so, that thrilled him to the extent of mad desire for her.

“This is the mallet,” he said, trying not to focus on the way his manhood throbbed in his pants.

Even his mind was working against him, offering images of her beautifully chaste, naked body on pristine white sheets with pale moonlight as her cover. How he yearned to defile her in every way possible, to make her forget that she ever wanted to be a nun.

“And these are the balls,” he said, gesturing to the brightly colored spheres.

“All right,” she nodded, holding the mallet with both hands, her fingers curled around it tenderly, as if she were afraid of breaking it.

“Don’t be afraid to hold it firmly,” he said as he placed his hand over hers, squeezing it to drive his point home. “Like this.”

He could feel her body melt into him, and in that moment, he almost prayed for her to press her bottom back into his hips.

Ciara tentatively glanced at him, and he saw her lids half-closed, his mind racing, thinking of all the ways he could make them roll back into her head?—

But he had to compose himself. His cousin was present for Christ’s sake.

As he slid his hand off hers, his knuckles slowly grazed her arm before releasing her completely, knowing fully well the dozens of shivers it’d sent down her spine.

After a tiny exhale, Ciara gripped the mallet tighter.

“That’s how you hold it. Good girl,” he said playfully in her ear.

He wondered if he gave her something else to hold, would her fingers curl in the same manner around it, tenderly and with reverence? His treacherous mind was playing a dangerous game, evoking other images of feeling her lips, her tongue on parts of his body that shivered at the thought.

She lifted her gaze towards him. “Why don’t you try and focus on what we’re doing here?”

He chuckled. It was exactly the response he expected of her. He stepped behind her, close enough to feel the warmth emanating from her. “First, let’s get your grip right.”

He placed his hands gently over hers, guiding her fingers toward a harder grip on the mallet’s handle. Her skin was soft and warm, sending a tidal wave of warmth through him.

He moved slightly away from her, not wanting to prod her or heaven forbid, have his cousin see him in this awkward position. He tried to focus his mind on anything else. Meowing kittens. A broken carriage wheel. The smell of burnt apple pie.Anything that might distract him from Ciara’s presence, from her fragrance, but that was impossible.

“Now, stand with your feet shoulder-width apart,” he said, positioning her feet, his hands resting briefly on her shoulders to align her stance. “You want to keep your body relaxed.”

He could feel her tension from that slight touch. He wondered if she felt the same way as he did, titillated by their proximity, barely able to control himself not to grab her into his arms and kiss her again. The memory of that kiss lingered like a haunting melody he kept going back to.