Page 18 of Fortune Favors the Frivolous (Matchmaking Mischief Makers #2)

And although Caroline felt a moment of heat curling through her at his discovery, she determinedly threw off her remaining clothing, saying, as she pulled on the nightgown Mrs. Binns had provided upon request, “How could I wear a chemise when I was in breeches and shirt and not to be exposed as not being a real stable boy? Now, just turn your head away.” The cotton nightgown settled around her, soft against her skin.

“You know, I think it’s not very gentlemanlike to draw attention to something that, when a girl’s been kidnapped, is therefore so unimportant, for I just want to sleep, and I hardly expect that my unladylike lack of a chemise should make any difference to you. Good night, Henry.”

*

But it did make a difference to Henry, even though he knew it should not.

A few minutes before, his eyelids had been as heavy as if two copper pennies lay upon them.

And even as they had chatted, when Caroline had first rested her head against his chest, he’d felt the most wonderfully blissful sense of calm and peace with her safe beside him.

But after her sudden insistence that she remove her clothing, and even though he wasn’t touching her, the fact of knowing that she lay wearing just a thin nightgown beside him had him tense and jittery and…

Dear Lord, hard like he’d never been before. His body thrummed with an awareness that was both thrilling and terrifying.

But Caroline was his friend. His childhood playmate. The sunlight caught in her hair, turning the tangled strands to gold against the white pillow.

Soon, her gentle breathing indicated that she was asleep.

With her cheek resting on her clasped hands upon the pillow, she looked desperately vulnerable.

But also exquisitely contented, as a small smile played about her lips.

The curve of her shoulder peeked from beneath the nightgown, smooth and pale in the afternoon light.

Yes, she was the sister he must protect, he told himself severely. He’d rescued her, and now he must follow through on his pledge to see her safely back to London.

Swallowing, closing his eyes, and trying to tamp down his fearsome erection, he told himself that he would. He’d force himself to think pure thoughts, and to imagine that she was like his own dear sister, Charlotte. And that he’d behave accordingly.

Henry was exhausted. If he just closed his eyes and rolled to face the opposite direction, he’d wake up rejuvenated and with a new sense of duty… and honor.

And so that’s what he did. The first part, at least.

He closed his eyes, and sleep felled him.

But when he awoke, it wasn’t from natural causes.

Caroline was stroking his cheek and forehead, her touch featherlight yet burning against his skin.

And her face was inches from his, her lips curved into a smile.

Not suggestive—as would have been just cause for his instant, fearsome response—but deeply fond and sweet.

Her eyes held a warmth he’d never noticed before, or perhaps had never allowed himself to see.

Like a sister, he told himself severely.

He only wished her words had been more sisterly.

For instead, as she trailed her hand from cheek to chin, she murmured, “Who’d have thought you’d be so heroic, Henry?

Why, if I were a queen in medieval times, you would be my knight in shining armor, and I’d wrap my favor around your arm as you went into battle for me.

Because—” She leaned across to kiss him gently but briefly on the lips, the touch sending sparks through his entire body, “I couldn’t think of anyone braver. ”

Henry blinked, both embarrassed but liking her words so very much he didn’t know quite what to say. Her nearness was intoxicating, the scent of her skin—somehow still carrying traces of orange blossom beneath the earthy notes of her adventure—making his head swim.

Caroline laughed, the sound musical in the quiet room.

“So speechless. That’s not like you, Henry.

” She shifted a little to lie on her back and look up at the ceiling.

Her hair was tangled and there were smudges on her cheeks.

Henry thought he’d never seen her look so beautiful.

Her very imperfections made her perfect to him.

He swallowed. “Those are the kind of words calculated to make a fellow feel rather a dunce.”

“Oh, Henry, you look so darling when you say that. So bashful.” Caroline leaned on one elbow to reach a hand around his neck and kiss him tenderly once more on the lips. But this time, with more calculated precision. Her lips lingered against his, soft and inviting.

Drawing back quickly, she looked at him suddenly wide-eyed as she put her hand to her mouth, saying, “I shouldn’t have done that, should I… but I don’t know why I never have before.” A blush stained her cheeks, but her eyes remained steady on his.

“You don’t?” He cleared his throat, swallowed again, and counseled himself not to respond to the invitation in her eye. Yet his body betrayed him, and he leaned closer.

“No.” She shook her head, her voice wondering, a new awareness dawning in her expression.

Did she not remember that she was in only the thinnest of night gowns beneath the covers? Did she not recall that they had fled from a man who had threatened both her friend and herself? She should be shivering with fear, unable to concentrate on anything but returning to her safe, normal life.

Instead, she raised her hand to his cheek once more and said, wonderingly, “Do you not think that danger makes the blood in one’s veins so much more…

active? And one’s body so much more… alive?

Have you felt that, Henry? You’re a man, so maybe you’re used to feeling this way.

But I…” She shrugged, the movement causing the nightgown to slip slightly from one shoulder.

“I want to kiss you again, Henry, and you can refuse—and I shan’t be the slightest bit offended—or maybe you can let me because there is something here, in my heart, that makes me want to feel even more alive. Is that strange?”

“No, not strange at all,” Henry said, clearing his voice and shifting a little closer, the space between them charged with possibility. “And you can. I don’t mind at all. In fact—”

But his words were truncated, for suddenly Caroline’s lips were on his and his body was on fire and what had started off as the sweetest sensation imaginable was suddenly the most incendiary.

Every nerve ending seemed alight, as if his body had been waiting for this moment without his conscious knowledge.

Their lips met again, and this time there was nothing sisterly about it.

Caroline’s mouth was soft, yielding, yet somehow demanding as she pressed closer.

Henry’s hand found its way to her hair, tangling in the blonde strands as he deepened the kiss.

She tasted of honey from the tea earlier, and something uniquely Caroline that made his head spin.

She made a small sound in the back of her throat—half sigh, half moan—and Henry felt it resonate through his entire body. His other hand slid to her waist, pulling her closer, feeling the heat of her skin through the thin shift she wore.

Caroline’s fingers traced patterns on his chest, each touch leaving trails of fire in their wake.

Her fingertips crept beneath his shirt, slipping inside to caress the bare skin beneath, sending shivers of pleasure through him.

When they broke apart for air, her eyes were dark, pupils dilated, and her lips were slightly swollen. Henry traced them with his thumb.

“I think,” she whispered against his finger, her breath warm against his skin, “that I’ve wanted to do that for quite some time.”

“Have you?” His voice was rough, unsteady, filled with wonder and desire in equal measure.

Instead of answering, she kissed him again, this time with more urgency as her hands roamed over his bare chest, and Henry groaned.

He rolled them slightly, so she was beneath him, supporting his weight on his forearms as he explored her mouth with reverent thoroughness.

The world beyond their bed ceased to exist; there was only Caroline, her warmth, her scent, the soft sounds she made as he kissed her.

When they finally parted, they were both breathing heavily. Caroline’s hair was spread across the pillow like a halo, her cheeks flushed, eyes bright with something that looked very much like love.

“I think,” Henry said carefully, his voice husky with emotion, “that we need to have a very serious discussion about our future when we reach London.”

Caroline’s answering smile was radiant, transforming her face. “I think you might be right.”