Page 38 of Cupid Comes to Little Valentine (The Venturesome Ladies of Little Valentine #1)

He looked surprisingly pleased by her words and opened the hamper. “There are slices of pie, chicken and ham, and game, I think. Also, chicken drumsticks, several cheeses, some apples, oh, and wedding cake.”

“Cake!” Clementine said at once. “I didn’t get to have any, and it looked delicious.”

“Cake it is,” he said with a grin. “Oh, there’s wine too. What an excellent woman Mrs Adie is. She’s even uncorked it ready for us,” he said, raising the bottle enquiringly towards her.

Clementine shook her head, watching as he poured a glass for himself.

“She is a treasure,” she agreed, breaking off a piece of the rich fruitcake and putting it in her mouth.

She gave a little sigh of pleasure at the sweetness of the cake and chewed happily.

“Oh, that is divine,” she said, breaking off another bit.

Try some,” she added, turning to offer some to Beaumarsh, only to discover him watching her.

He had an intent expression, like a cat waiting for its prey, and Clementine swallowed awkwardly, belatedly aware of their proximity, of the confines of the carriage, and the fact they were married, and alone.

She watched as he raised the wineglass to his lips and drank, noticing the strong column of his throat working as he swallowed.

He licked his lips and Clementine’s breath caught and she wondered with growing agitation how those lips would feel against hers.

Still, she forced herself to be brave and lifted the morsel of cake to his lips.

He held her gaze as he opened his mouth and she had the sudden, strange and forceful image of feeding an enormous cat with smiling jaws and strong teeth, teeth that might devour her if she wasn’t careful.

Shaking off the sensation, she popped the piece of cake into his mouth, her fingers unwittingly brushing his lips as she did so.

A shiver ran down her arm at the contact, fizzing in her belly and lower still, a confusion of sensations she did not know what to do with.

So, instead, she turned her attention to practical matters.

“H-How far is it to Cavendish House? I am certain I have asked that several times before, but suddenly I cannot remember.”

“Around four hours, I’m afraid,” he said, his gaze still lingering on her face. “We’ll stop for an early supper at The Bell in Ticehurst, and then make the rest of the journey, if that suits you?”

“Perfectly,” Clementine agreed. Her nerves, which he had calmed so nicely, were jittering all over again.

His expression changed to one of concern, his brows drawing together.

“Clementine, don’t be afraid of me,” he said, watching her still.

“I know this isn’t a love match, but I hope we are friends, are we not?

I want you to be happy, and I would do nothing to make you unhappy.

Certainly not on purpose, but if I do so accidentally, I would have your promise that you will tell me. ”

“Of course we are friends,” Clementine agreed briskly, though for reasons she did not understand, her heart sank at his words.

Well, of course it wasn’t a love match. She knew that perfectly well and there was no reason to feel despondent about it.

“Though we don’t yet know each other well.

As for telling you, of course I shall. I’m afraid that was never in doubt,” she said apologetically.

He smiled at that. “Good. Have you finished your cake?”

Clementine picked up the last piece and ate it, handing him the plate, which he put back in the hamper alongside his empty wineglass.

“In that case, come here.” He sat back and held one arm out, inviting her to move closer.

Clementine told herself she was a sensible girl and would not swoon if her husband put his arm around her. All the same, her insides trembled, and her heart sped as she did as he asked.

“There, now. That isn’t so terrible, is it?” he asked, glancing down at her, his blue eyes dancing.

“Don’t mock me,” she warned him tartly. “You have all the experience and I none, which, I might add, is exactly how men have arranged things. So don’t go teasing me for being an ignorant ninny.”

“Good lord, Clementine, as if I would,” he retorted, though amusement still lurked in his eyes. “And I cannot believe you ignorant.”

“Not about the mechanics of the thing,” she admitted. “Just the… the technique.”

There was a tense silence. “The mechanics and the t-technique,” he repeated, but she heard the quaver in his voice and elbowed him in the ribs.

“Wretch!” she exclaimed, though she was laughing now. “How else should I put it?”

“Oh, n-no, my dear. I think that explains the situation perfectly,” he said, before giving a snort and bursting out laughing.

“One day, I shall make you pay for that,” she grumbled, finding she did not mind in the least, for it was delightful to watch him laugh with such abandon, and to be the one who had given such mirth, albeit unintentionally.

“I never doubted it,” he said, regaining his equilibrium and pulling her closer.

He looked down at her, his expression surprisingly tender as he leaned in, moving slowly so as not to startle her. Clementine held her breath, her heart thundering, watching. Ought she to close her eyes? She wondered but did not want to miss anything. This was her first kiss, after all.

He had not kissed her when he had proposed, for which she had been relieved at the time, but now she thought she regretted that. At least then she might have been a little prepared for… for…

His lips were surprisingly soft, plush and warm, and gentle as they brushed lightly over hers.

A shiver ran over her skin and then he did it again, increasing the pressure a little.

He kissed the corner of her mouth, and then moved, giving dozens of butterfly-soft kisses that made her mind feel hazy at the edges.

Though she had wanted to watch, to experience this kiss, these kisses, with every sense, she found her eyes closing, unable to keep them open.

She needed to savour, to focus her mind on the feel of his mouth caressing hers. It was…

Oh .

It was good. Very good indeed. Warmth curled through her, warmth that seemed to build with every press of his mouth upon hers.

His hand was a sensual weight at her waist, and she wished he would move it, that he would slide it down to her hip, or up to her breast, which suddenly felt heavy and desperate for his touch.

Well, now she understood why people made such a fuss about men and women never being left alone together.

If this was what temptation felt like, it was no wonder people got themselves into such trouble.

He did not hurry her or seem inclined to do anything more but continue in the same fashion, but as the kiss went on, one touch of lips melting into another, Clementine grew increasingly impatient.

Boldly, she lifted her hand and rested it on his shoulder, thinking that perhaps it might encourage him to take them a little farther down this path.

It didn’t.

Well, she was not a silly chit straight out of the schoolroom, she reminded herself.

She would try something else. Her hand moved, sliding over the fine material of his coat, feeling the strength of the shoulder beneath and discovering there was not a bit of padding there.

It was all Beaumarsh. Delighted by this information, she lifted her hand, touching his jaw.

She would have liked to curve her palm around his neck, but his cravat had been folded so intricately she found the prospect of disordering it too intimidating and decided it was best avoided.

His jaw, however, was firm and there was a slight rasp as she ran her fingers over his skin.

This morning he had been clean shaven, but now, late in the afternoon, the first golden hint of beard was making an appearance.

Encouraged when he made no objection to her exploration, she allowed her hand to move back, sinking into the warmth of his hair.

The dark gold locks were silky, sliding through her fingers, and Beaumarsh sighed.

Clementine stilled, entranced by the soft sound of pleasure. She wished to make him sigh again, and perhaps make other sounds that would signal his approval of her touch but, just as she was considering her next move, he drew back.

“Enough,” he said.

Clementine looked at him in shock, though somewhat mollified by the heat in his eyes, which had darkened considerably, the pupil wide and inky black, leaving only a thin sliver of blue visible. “Enough?” she repeated breathlessly. “I should think not.”

He grinned at her, so smug and pleased with her words she almost laughed. “Oh, just for now, love. But I promise you, your wedding night will be one to remember, and not because it happened in a carriage.”

Frowning, Clementine considered him with frustration. “Well, surely we can just carry on as we were and—”

“No,” he said, laughing. “That’s not the way it works.

You’ll just have to trust me, because if we don’t stop now, neither of us will be inclined to stop at all.

I would never do anything you didn’t want, Clementine, but if you keep encouraging me, we might find ourselves in a tangle on the floor by the time we reach our next stop,” he grinned as he spoke, looking as though he was ready to be persuaded if she really insisted.

“Really?” she said, fascinated despite knowing she ought not be curious about such things.

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” he said, settling himself back beside her.

He slanted a glance at her and reached over, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“But I am more than pleased that you wish to. I promise you, if I could make this blasted carriage move any faster, I would do so. I am counting the moments until we are finally home.”

“Well, that’s all right, then,” she allowed, glad she was not the only one afflicted by this sudden agitation and impatience for more.