Page 3 of The Viscount, the Blacksmith, and the Lady
Her hand rose, a delicate fan in motion, stirring the air around her flushed cheeks. She glanced from one man to the other, her lips curving into a playful smile. “As for which kiss was superior... well, I must say, you’ve given me quite the dilemma. Both were so... persuasive in your own right.”
Owen watched her, silently urging her to declare a victor. He saw Simon giving her the same pointed glare.
“Excellent kisses, indeed,” she continued, coyly avoiding a direct answer. “But to choose a winner? It’s too close to decide. It seems we’ve reached an impasse, gentlemen.” Her eyes danced with challenge and invitation, suggesting this game was far from over.
Simon’s jaw clenched, a storm of emotions churning within him as he observed the playful twinkle in Xenia’s eyes. Though bemusement touched the corners of his mouth, the tightness in his chest betrayed his true feelings. He admired her spirit, the ease with which she turned their fierce rivalry into a jest, but it gnawed at him—the need to surpass Owen, to be the one who ignited the fire in her eyes.
“Miss Arbuckle,” he began, mocking her formal tone, “your levity in such a moment is endearing.” His words were deliberate, chosen to convey both his vexation and his fondness for her impish charm.
Yet, there was something more—a deep-seated drive that propelled him. Simon Cooke, Fifth Viscount Kinnerton, was not accustomed to sharing victory. In matters of sport, wit, or matters of the heart, he always strived to best Owen, to stand unrivaled. And now, with stakes higher than ever, that need burned brighter, fueled by the alluring glint in Xenia’s gaze.
As if sensing the silent battle raging within him, her lips curved into a mischievous smile. She stepped closer, her proximity reigniting the desire that he fought to keep at bay. “Perhaps then, gentlemen, we shall have to try again.”
Her suggestion hung in the air, a siren’s call that beckoned with the promise of sweet victory and perilous defeat. Simon’s heart pounded with the thrill of the challenge. He could see the same eagerness reflected in Owen’s stance, the anticipation of another chance to claim her favor.
This game could prove very enjoyable.
CHAPTER TWO
As Xenia’s words floated through the space between them, Simon said nothing. He stood silently, but his gaze told her volumes. He offered no grandiose declaration or boastful retort. Instead, there was an unspoken promise shimmering within his steady look, one of passion held in careful reserve. She shivered, hungry for what he seemed to offer.
He stepped closer with deliberate poise, the distance between them shrinking in an instant. He moved with precision. The air seemed to thicken, charged with anticipation and something more—something raw and unnamed that pulsed just beneath their practiced façade of playful banter.
As Simon leaned in, his approach was neither hesitant nor brash, but assuredly gentle, a firmness underlying his tenderness. His hand pressed against the small of her back, drawing her imperceptibly nearer. His lips brushed against hers, a contact so soft it may have been mistaken for a whisper had it not been for the warmth that radiated from the touch.
Xenia felt a surge of heat uncoil within her, spreading outwards to every extremity. Her pulse quickened, her heart beating a fevered rhythm against her ribs. The sensation of his lips, firm yet pliant against her own, sent a cascade of shivers down her spine, awakening every nerve ending with a keen sense of awareness. Lost in the moment, she experienced the subtle dance of pressure and retreat, the ebb and flow of a kiss promising far more than mere skill.
The world seemed to hush around her, every sense attuned to the man before her. Simon’s kiss was a revelation, an unfurling of desire that she hadn’t known she’d been holding back. Within her mind, a chorus of surprise and delight sang praises to the depth of his passion as if he poured every unspoken word, every concealed emotion, into their ardent embrace.
Tingling spread like wildfire from her fingertips to the very tips of her toes, igniting a flurry beneath her skin that left her breathless and wanting. Her stomach fluttered with a battalion of butterflies, tumultuous and wild in their flight, as though his lips had whispered secrets they dared not reveal. She melted into him, her body succumbing to his assault as effortlessly as wax to flame, each caress stoking the fire within her.
He drew back, watching her with intense eyes that seemed to see straight through to her soul. He slid his hand down her side, over the curve of her hip, trailing down to the softness of her thigh.
Wondering how far he meant to go with his touches, Xenia met his gaze, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths that betrayed her reactions. Her eyes held Simon’s steady gaze, silently challenging him to further prove the depth of his ardor. The air between them crackled with the promise of more.
Her gaze shifted from Simon to where Owen stood a few paces away. Owen came closer. His eyes glinted with a playful spark that acknowledged their silent game. “It appears to be my turn again.” He stopped beside Xenia, towering over her shorter frame, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
Without hesitation, he reached out, his large, calloused hands enveloping Xenia’s. One arm snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against him, while the other cradled the back of her head, his fingers threading through the dark tresses that had yet to escape her bun. His grip was firm yet mindful, as if he held something precious.
His lips descended upon hers with bold intent, starkly contrasting with Simon’s earlier tenderness. Owen’s kiss showed his confidence, fierce and unapologetic in its claim. Yet there was a gentleness in his fervor, a careful balance between passion and respect that sent a thrill coursing through Xenia’s veins.
She felt every fiber of her being respond, her body moving against his with an instinctual rhythm. The sensation of his powerful arms holding her so tightly made it clear he wanted her as badly as she wanted him. She moaned, pressing herself against him.
The world around them seemed to fall away, leaving only the rising heat between their bodies. Her heart hammered against her ribs. His tongue thrust into her mouth, imitating the act she wished they were doing.
When they parted, she saw the question in Owen’s eyes, which matched the look on Simon’s face. If they didn’t want her in bed, they were excellent actors. She didn’t want their game to end. “Goodness. If this is the best Kinnerton’s most eligible bachelors can do, I fear for our village’s prospects.”
The two men stood there, momentarily taken aback by her jest. Had no woman ever questioned their virility before? Judging by their kisses, the answer was no, as there was nothing lacking in either man’s seduction. Then they laughed, Owen running a hand through his hair.
“Perhaps we are merely out of practice,” Simon retorted smoothly, his voice carrying an edge of warmth.
Owen grinned widely. “Or maybe we’re just saving our true talents for someone who can fully appreciate them.”
Simon still chuckled when he turned, his posture relaxed, a silent signal that their playful challenge had reached its end. Owen, too, nodded with an air of finality, the corners of his eyes crinkling with mirth. They began to retreat, to go back to their stone skipping.
“Wait,” Xenia called.
With a swift motion, she reached for Owen, her fingers curling around the coarse fabric of his shirt sleeve. She pulled him back toward her with surprising strength, fueled by an impulsive desire. Owen stumbled slightly, his shock clear as his eyes widened, meeting hers with a look that mingled surprise with a spark of intrigue.