Page 2 of The Viscount, the Blacksmith, and the Lady
“Xenia...” The hand that had been resting casually by Simon’s side now clenched and unclenched. He drew back slightly, not unlike a gentleman stepping away from a challenge he hadn’t anticipated, watching her with an intensity that seemed to glide down the length of her being.
She could see Simon wrestling with the notion. There was vulnerability there, a crack in the armor she had never seen before. And in that moment, she realized how much this game meant—not just to her, but perhaps to him as well. He watched her as if waiting for her to retract her boldness and restore the innocent friendship they had always known.
Owen’s laughter broke the silence, a rich and hearty sound. He met Xenia’s challenge with a roguish grin, his eyes alight with mischief as he stood with easy confidence. “Well now, I’ve never been one to shy away from a bit of friendly competition.”
His stance was relaxed as he stood, yet there was a new, palpable energy about him. “Let’s see then, shall we?” He winked at her with an audacious charm.
Simon watched Xenia as she stood there expectantly, and the desire to close the distance between them, to savor the sweetness he’d tasted on her lips, swelled within him.
He shifted uncomfortably, his thoughts betraying him, wandering down a path that led to forbidden pleasures. The pact he had made with Owen loomed over him like a chaperone at a ball. They had sworn an oath, boys masquerading as men, that neither would court Xenia, fearing the chase would fray the seams of their friendship.
Yet here he sat, yearning stirring in his chest. Simon’s gaze lingered on Xenia, her blue eyes reflecting the vast sky above, unruly black hair escaping her bun to dance in the wind.
He considered the ramifications of accepting her challenge, simple as it was. He could kiss her, potentially causing the fracture of a lifelong bond with Owen. There was also the risk of exposing his heart only to have it spurned—she likely only toyed with them out of boredom. Then, as Xenia turned toward him, a playful smile gracing her lips, the decision seemed to make itself.
Simon took a step closer, the scent of her lavender perfume ensnaring him further. His heart thundered in his chest. The pact, once a stalwart guardian of his actions, now felt like chains to be broken.
He hesitated, his gaze meeting Owen’s, an entire conversation communicated in a single glance. He saw something in his friend’s gaze, a challenge perhaps, or maybe just the reflection of his own turmoil.
The air was charged with unspoken tension, and Simon knew he could not—would not—stand idly by while uncertainty remained about who would step forward first. Owen would gloat over being first, and Simon loathed to hear it.
With a quiet resolve, Simon closed the distance between himself and Xenia, every step measured and resolute.
“Xenia, come closer.” His hand extended toward her, fingers brushing against hers. Her skin was warm, soft, and he couldn’t help but imagine touching her more sensitive places. His fingertips traced her palm before entwining with her fingers, holding onto this connection as if it were a lifeline amidst the storm of his emotions.
He was being ridiculous. This was a mere kiss.
His resolve solidified as he stood before her. He lifted a hand to tuck an errant curl behind her ear. His thumb lingered for a moment too long, drifting across the softness of her cheek, down to trace the full curve of her lips. She was a vision of loveliness, with eyes that shimmered like the deepest pools of the river beside them.
“Your eyes are the stars of the night sky—limitless and bright.” Simon realized the words sounded like something a schoolboy might say, but he couldn’t take it back now.
With a tenderness that belied the fervent beating of his heart, he pressed his lips to hers in a kiss that was both an exploration and a promise. His other hand found its way to her waist, pulling her gently closer, unwilling to let even the whisper of a breeze pass between them.
As their lips parted, Simon couldn’t help but bask in the aftermath of that singular touch. Xenia’s chest rose and fell as she breathed hard, the luscious swell of her breasts visible above the neckline of her gown, betraying the effect his kiss had wrought upon her.
A surge of pride swelled within Simon, as cocksure as any rake. Not only had he kissed Xenia Arbuckle, the woman who haunted his most private thoughts, but it had been a kiss that left her wanting more. He allowed himself a small, victorious smile, one that only deepened as he noted the flush of her cheeks—a bloom more telling than any words could ever be.
Just as he considered kissing her again, Owen took a step forward. “My turn.”
Without awaiting a response, Owen gently but firmly pushed Simon aside. There was no malice in the gesture, just a bold assertion of presence. His grin was wide and unabashedly confident, as if he had already been assured victory in whatever competition they had unwittingly entered.
He always won when he and Simon competed, whether in women or sport.
He leaned in close, inhaling the scent of Zee’s soap or powder that surrounded her. “Simon may have been the first, but I can assure you, love, what I’m about to do to you will make his kiss seem a mere whisper against your lips.”
Owen reached for her face. “You’re the prettiest girl in the village, Zee. But you know that.” He traced the line of her jaw with his rough thumb.
“Your beauty outshines the stars themselves.” His methodical kisses began, a soft press to her forehead that spoke of reverence. Slowly, deliberately, his lips moved across her temple, dusting her cheekbones with affectionate pecks that stirred the air between them.
Her eyes fluttered closed under the tender assault. Owen reveled in the anticipation he was building, his heart thrumming. When at last his mouth found hers, it wasn’t just a claiming—it was a celebration, a feast after famine.
The world seemed to tilt on its axis as he kissed her, his lips coaxing, demanding, giving all in one breath-stealing communion.
How long he kissed her he couldn’t say, but it was a potent force that left her panting and flushed with warmth. As he drew back, his eyes searched hers for a reaction. A moment of silence hung between them before Xenia’s laughter broke through. “Good heavens. You two are going to be the ruin of me.” Her hand fluttered to her chest, where her heart beat a frantic pace.
She playfully swatted at Owen’s arm, her touch light but pointed. “Such boldness, Mr. Bishop. I do believe you’ve spent too much time at the forge, thinking you can bend people to your will as easily as iron.”
Turning to Simon, who stood watching with an intensity that could melt that iron Zee mentioned, she wagged a finger. “And you, Viscount Kinnerton, don’t think I didn’t notice the way you took charge of the situation. How very like you.”