Page 101 of A Dare too Far

“How is Neville?” Jane asked, that single tapping finger picking up its pace.

“As well as can be expected. There have been no more terrors.”

“Good.”

George crossed one foot over his knee.

“Did you receive my letter?”

“I did. What were you thinking, Jane? Do you mean to seduce me?”

She ducked her head, hiding her face even more. “Ah, no. I had not thought to.” She lifted her gaze to him them, and he saw her face, shadowed beneath the bonnet’s brim. “Did I?”

She damn well had. “Yes.” No denying it.

“Enough for you to marry me?”

He looked out the window, unable to say the words, the truth. “I wish it were different,” he finally said.

“It can be.” And there was longing in her voice. Not just the longing of the body, but the longing of the soul.

He looked toward her once more, but her face was hidden again.

Unable to stop himself, he slid across the space between them and joined her on the other bench. He pulled one satin ribbon under her chin, his fingers brushing against the soft skin there. Her breath hitched, an unexpected encouragement. Once the ribbons lay loose on either side of her neck, he lifted the hat off her head and tossed it to the other seat. Then, he placed the pad of his thumb right there, under her chin, on the skin he’d grazed that had changed the pattern of the rhythms of her heart and lungs. He pulled his thumb slowly up her jaw to the hollow behind her ear, then kissed the sharp edge of her jaw above her high-necked pelisse.

She gasped. “You should not. You’ve sent me away, remember?”

He had. It was for the best, though it felt the most foolish action in the entire world. “Why did you write that letter?”

“To say goodbye.”

“That’sa proper goodbye, the kind a man dreams of.” His cock tightened.

Damn.

Control. He had to rein his fingers and lips and damned cock in. He pulled away from her and pushed to the very corner of the bench they shared.

“I am a man of tight control,” he said.

“Well I know it.”

“No. You do not. When I’m around you, I have little control. I want to kiss every inch of you.”

“That all sounds quite promising, George. But there you are in that corner, while I’m in this one. And I do not think you mean to change the specifics of our relationship anytime soon.”

He did not move on either the relationship or the bench.

She sighed. “I shall speak plainly. Marry me, George.”

“I would. I wish for nothing more, but—”

“It’s thatbutthat stands in the way, that speaks of patience to me. I’ve never been good at patience. Always better at simply… doing the thing myself instead of waiting for it.”

For most of his adult life, he’d been content with waiting, content to wait patiently forone day. Now her frustration coursed through him, threatening to unshackle his barely restrained control.

“I understand your reasoning,” Jane said, “but I am willing to risk the dangers of marriage to you. Can’t you risk them with me?”

“I won’t risk your life.”