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INES
An hour into the trip, Murray had fallen asleep. Ines watched him struggle to keep his eyes open, but he was clearly still fighting to regain his strength after the loss of blood and the injury he’d sustained. Ines and Emmeline sat on one side of the coach and the gentlemen sat on the other. The dog lay on the floor between them.
Mr. Fortescue tried several times to shift Murray’s weight back toward the door, but the big Scot continued to slide toward Fortescue until his head rested on the other man’s shoulder. Ines could imagine that head on her shoulder, or better yet, in her lap.
“Shall we trade places, senhor?” she asked Mr. Fortescue.
“I’m fine,” he said, shifting uncomfortably.
“Very well,” she said, trying not to show her disappointment. Then to her surprise, Emmeline spoke up.
“There’s barely enough room there for the two of you, Stratford. Miss Neves is small and will not be troubled by Mr. Murray. You will be more comfortable next to me.”
Fortescue looked like he would argue, but then the Scot snuffled and burrowed closer, and he pushed the man over and rapped on the coach roof. He called for the driver to stop for a moment as they would need to step out of the conveyance in order to change places. The dog made it difficult to maneuver inside the vehicle.
A few moments later, Ines settled beside Murray, who had not even opened his eyes when the coach stopped. He slid closer to her until his head lolled onto her shoulder. At which point, she lowered his head into her lap and stroked the hair off his face.
He was not a traditionally handsome man. His features were too stark, his expressions too fierce. He usually needed a shave and a haircut. She was almost sorry he had shaved this morning, as she liked to imagine shaving him and running her hands through his hair. She didn’t know what it was about him that had made her knees weak even the very first time she saw him. He always had a wild look about him, except his eyes. Those amber eyes were calm and full of humor. And when he looked at her with those beautiful eyes, her legs began to tremble every time.
Of course, he would never look at her the way she looked at him. To him, she was Benedict Draven’s responsibility. But before she had to go back to her predictable life in London and the tedious men her sister introduced her to, Ines would have her PED. She would kiss one man who truly excited her. She could survive years on the exhilaration of that kiss. She could wait until she was one and twenty or so, and then her sister would have to allow her more freedom and to relocate above the lace shop.
Ines could almost feel the liberty of such a relocation now. She could come and go as she pleased and would not have to answer to anyone. She could stay up all night, eat nothing but sweets, take a secret lover. And perhaps when she had tired of that life, at the ripe old age of thirty, she would marry. She’d have a huge romantic wedding in one of the old churches. She’d wear a beautiful dress, and her wedding breakfast would be a lavish event. Her husband would adore her, would do anything for her.
Ines had watched her mother suffer through life with a man who found any reason to beat her. She’d lived fourteen years in a home where if she said the wrong word or looked the wrong way, she too might be beaten. She did not need to wonder why her sisters had not argued when their father had married them to old, ugly men. They were happy to escape one hell, although in some cases their husbands were no better than their father. Ines had once asked Catarina why their mother had not left their father.
“Where would she go?” Catarina had asked. “With seven little girls and no money? Anyone she asked for help would return her to her husband. Once a woman marries, she becomes the property of the man. She cannot escape.”
Far from making Ines wary of marriage, the conversation had made her all the more determined to marry the right man, a man who loved her and would do anything for her.
“I’m surprised Colonel Draven has not caught up to us yet,” Mr. Fortescue said after a long silence.
Speaking of men who would do anything for their wife. Ines sighed, thinking of her brother-in-law. “It is not for lack of trying, I am certain,” Ines answered. “But when Benedict does find me, I will simply tell him to go home.”
“And you think he will listen, Miss Neves?” Fortescue asked.
She shrugged. “No, he will protest and argue, but I shall ignore him. I am determined to see Scotland now. I am determined to see more of England.” Passion, excitement, and danger. “I have seen only London. That seems criminal, does it not, senhor?”
He made a non-committal sound, and Emmeline put a hand on his arm. “No one will try to force you to take a side, Stratford. Ines, I find that I would like to see Scotland as well. I have never been further north than Cumbria.”
“God help me,” Fortescue mumbled and closed his eyes.
Emmeline leaned forward conspiratorially. “He has not yet found a strategy he can use on me. I outwit him every time.” Looking pleased with herself, Emmeline closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the cushion. Ines stared out of the window at the passing green fields and wondered at the lives of the laborers they passed.
It was full dark by the time the coachman stopped for the night. Ines appreciated his determination to put as much distance between them and Mr. Pope as possible. She knew it would still be days before they reached Murray’s home, but at least they were making progress. Murray had been awake the last several hours. He’d seemed surprised to wake with his head on her lap, and then horrified. He moved away from her as quickly as if she were a viper.
He’d said very little to her that last leg of the trip. He and Fortescue had reminisced about the war, and Ines had been shocked that the men had seemed to be in so much danger. Catarina had said that Draven’s troop was a select group of men chosen for their skills to conduct dangerous missions that would ultimately bring down Napoleon Bonaparte. But she had not realized that so many of the troop had died or that both Fortescue and Murray had narrowly avoided death themselves. This revelation made it all the stranger that Murray had not been able to find a bride in London. He was a war hero. Many women should want to marry a hero.
But then she did not always understand the English.
Fortescue went inside the inn where they stopped to secure two rooms for the night, while Ines, Emmeline, Murray, and the dog waited in the coach. Finally, the arrangements were made, and Fortescue helped the women down from the coach. After a full day of riding and only brief stops to change horses, Ines’s legs were wobbly. She walked stiffly then stumbled when she stepped on a horseshoe in the yard. But before she could fall on her face, Murray caught her about the waist and hauled her back up against his chest.
“I have ye, lass.”
Yes, he did. “I tripped on a horseshoe,” she said, stupidly. But how could she think of anything to say when that clean, woodsy smell was all around her and his large arm was clamped about her?
“Are ye steady now?”
“Não,” she said. “You had better hold on to me.”
He let out a breath. “I dinnae what tae do with ye, lass.”
“I can think of a few things.” She smiled at him when he released her.
“Why dinnae we walk aboot the yard for a wee bit? Stretch yer legs and work oot the stiffness?” He offered his arm, which was very proper. She thanked him and took it, allowing him to lead her in a circle about the yard.
“How are you feeling, senhor?” she asked.
“Still weary,” he said covering a yawn. “Though I slept all day. I’m like a bairn who needs a nap everra three hours.”
“The surgeon did say you should not be traveling. No doubt you would be stronger if you had another day to rest.”
“I would be deader, there’s nae doubt.”
“Fortunately, you do not have a fever.”
“Och.” He waved a hand. “I’m made of sterner stuff than tae catch a fever from a wee hole in the arm.”
He was lucky, that was all. But men did seem to think they were invincible. They came to the edge of the stable, and she paused to stretch her back. Looking up at the stars just coming out in the night sky, she said, “It is a pretty night. I never see such stars in London.”
“Aye. Beautiful.”
His tone caught her attention, and she glanced at him. He wasn’t looking at the sky. He was looking at her. A quick look about told her the yard was empty at the moment. Fortescue and Emmeline had gone into the inn, and the grooms were settling the horses from the coach inside. “Would you think me too scandalous if I asked for that kiss now?”
His eyes widened but not with shock. With interest. “Verra scandalous. I willnae kiss ye, lass.”
“What if I kiss you?” She moved closer, and when he didn’t step back, she moved closer yet, so close she brushed his chest. Still he stood his ground, his amber eyes fixed on her face as she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“I do not know much about kissing,” she said, looking up at him. “But I believe you must lower your head.”
“I dinnae think I should kiss ye, lass.” But his arms went around her waist, and he pulled her even closer.
“Then someone else will,” she whispered. “I want you to be the first. I know you will do it right.”
“Ye ken that, do ye?” His hand came up and brushed a loose tendril of hair from her cheek. His touch was surprisingly tender for such a big man. The heat in her belly at his closeness flared, and she felt a shock of desire.
“One kiss,” she whispered, turning her mouth so her lips brushed his palm. He hissed in a breath, and his grip on her tightened.
“It’s never only one kiss, lass.”
“Good,” she murmured as she tugged his head down. To her surprise, he complied, lowering his head until their lips were only inches apart. She tried to close the distance, but he resisted.
“I’ve been wanting tae kiss ye since the first time I laid eyes on ye in the coach,” he said.
Her eyes widened at the revelation. So he had wanted her from the start too.
“I’ve resisted yer efforts tae tempt me because I dinnae want Draven tae kill me. But Draven will kill me anyway.”
“I will not let him,” she murmured.
He flashed a smile. “If anyone can put him off, ye can. But ken this, lass. I kiss ye because I want tae. And damn the consequences.”
“Sim,” she said. Damn the consequences. And then his mouth was on hers and she could not think of anything else to say. She could not think.
Like his hand, his mouth was light and tender. The kiss was sweet, a press of lips against lips, just long enough to make her want more.
Then he pulled back. “There. Ye’ve been kissed.”
She was breathless, and her heart hammered so loudly in her ears that she felt like a drummer stood behind her, pounding away. “Again,” she said, her voice sounding so very faint and far away.
“That’s nae a good idea.” But he didn’t move away. He didn’t release her. She wrapped her hand in his hair and tugged his mouth down to hers again, and he didn’t resist. This time when his mouth met hers, she kissed him back, sweet and tender until the end, when she nipped his lip.
He jolted and looked in her eyes. “Christ and all the saints.”
She looked right back into his eyes, challenging him to scold her. Instead, he pushed her against the stable, pressed his body to hers, and took her mouth with his. This was not a kiss, but an invasion of the senses. Her hands tangled in his soft hair then slid down his broad muscled back. The scent of him and the horses and the nearby fields was in her nose. The taste of him, wild and untamed, was on her lips. She drank him in as though she were a woman dying of thirst. He parted her lips and slid inside, and she moaned with pleasure. Ines had no idea how to kiss, but it seemed to be a battle of twining tongues and clashing lips. She’d always been a fighter, and this was a battle she was determined to win.
His groan when she slid her tongue between his lips was enough to let her know she had the upper hand. That and she could feel his heart pounding against her chest. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.
And how she wanted.
She did not think she had ever wanted anything or anyone as much as she wanted him in that moment.
Abruptly, he stiffened, and his lips ceased their skillful plunder of her mouth. She let out a small sound of protest and tried to pull him back, but he broke away and stood straight, leaving her too far from his lips.
“I do hate to interrupt,” said a male voice with a very cultured English accent. “But if that woman is who I think it is, then someone ought to tell you that your hours are numbered.”
Duncan turned to look at the man, and in doing so, Ines had a clear view of him as well. He was tall and slim with honey-colored hair and light eyes. He was dressed in riding clothing that looked as though its cost rivaled some of her best pieces of lace.
“Mayne,” Duncan said, his voice wary.
“Murray,” the man said, then his gaze slid to her. His expression turned to one of annoyance and then slight exasperation. “Miss Neves, I presume?”
“And who are you, senhor?”
Duncan blew out a breath. “Miss Ines Neves, allow me tae introduce the Duke of Mayne.”
***
STRATFORD
“Oh, no,” Stratford said when the door to the private room he’d secured for dinner opened. Emmeline turned and, not seeing Murray or Miss Neves or the innkeeper with the tea they’d ordered, looked back at Stratford with a quizzical expression, her hand on Loftus’s head to keep him calm.
“I should have known you’d be involved in this,” Mayne said, walking into the room as though he owned it. For all Stratford knew, the duke did own it. He removed his hat and nodded his head at Emmeline. “Miss Wellesley, isn’t it?”
She stood. “Your Grace. What an unexpected pleasure.”
Mayne took her hand and kissed it, his green eyes meeting Stratford’s to gauge his reaction. Stratford kept his face inscrutable. Like most members of the upper classes, they knew each other in passing. What did Stratford care if the duke kissed Emmeline’s hand? Although, he didn’t see the need for Mayne to keep hold of it for so long.
“I presume Draven sent you,” Stratford said, eyeing Emmeline’s hand still encased in Mayne’s.
“He did.” The duke finally released her and pulled out her chair for her. When she sat, he followed. Stratford remained standing. “He interrupted my sister’s wedding day, as a matter of fact.”
“Lady Philomena?” Emmeline asked. “Oh, you must give her my felicitations.”
Mayne nodded. “I’d like to do that, but I’ve run into a bit of a problem. Miss Neves says she will not return to London. Draven sent me to find her and bring her back. It seems Jasper has gone underground, and no one can locate him at the moment. I told the colonel to go back to London for Jasper, and I would find Duncan and bring Miss Neves home. But when I told her I’d been sent to bring her back, she refused.”
Stratford wished he’d ordered something stronger than tea. “She does seem rather intent on traveling to Scotland.”
“And why is that, do you think?” Mayne asked, his tone calm. Except Stratford knew the man. He was annoyed as hell. Probably because he was an expert negotiator, and he hadn’t been able to negotiate with Miss Neves.
“She wants a taste of freedom,” Emmeline suggested.
“Perhaps, but when I came upon her, she seemed to want a taste of Duncan.” He leaned back in his chair and eyed Stratford. “You don’t seem surprised. Come to think of it, why are the two of you traveling with them?”
Stratford explained everything to Mayne—perhaps not quite everything—and by the time he’d finished, Duncan and Miss Neves had come into the private dining chamber.
“I told you I did not run away,” Miss Neves said, sitting regally in a chair at the end of the table. “Senhor Murray did not abduct me. You may go back and tell Benedict as much.”
Mayne pressed two fingers to his temple. “I cannot go back and tell him that. You will have to come back with me and tell him yourself, Miss Neves.”
“The lass wants tae see Scotland,” Duncan said, surprising Stratford. “There’s nae harm in that.”
“With you as her chaperone? Considering what I saw outside, I’d say Miss Neves’s virtue is in danger.”
Duncan took a menacing step forward. “Are ye implying I am some sort of rogue who would take advantage of a lass? Is that the kind of man ye think I am?”
Mayne rose. “Duncan—”
Miss Neves stepped between the two men. Stratford gave Emmeline a quick glance, wondering if they should leave the three to discuss the matter in private, but she seemed completely engrossed in the conversation.
“Senhor Murray is a decent man. If someone is to blame for what you saw outside, it is me. I have corrupted him. I asked him to kiss me.”
Duncan shook his head. “I would have kissed ye regardless. I willnae have ye blame yerself. I was corrupted before I met ye.”
That was true enough, but it must have been some kiss if Duncan was now taking Miss Neves’s side. This morning he had not wanted her to go to Scotland with him. And if she was forced to go home, Emmeline would have to go home. Which was exactly what Stratford wanted.
Wasn’t it?
The door opened and the innkeeper paused. “Should I come back?”
“No,” Stratford said at the same time Duncan said, “Aye. And bring some whisky. I need it because my heid is so fuzzy I cannae even speak clearly. I’m nae corrupted, lass, but I’m nae saint, either.”
Stratford pushed the innkeeper out of the room. “Why don’t you bring some food? Whatever you have will suffice.” He pressed a coin into the man’s hand. “And keep this discussion to yourself.”
“Yes, sir.”
Stratford knew the gossip would be spread within hours, if not minutes. Emmeline stepped outside as voices rose inside. Stratford closed the door and moved closer to the kitchen. Thankfully the noise of the cook and the banging of pots and pans drowned out the sound of the duke’s verbal duel with the lacemaker. The kitchen door was closed, and the only light came from the public room. Emmeline stood in a shaft of that light, her dark hair curling over one shoulder and brushing the luminous skin of her neck. Stratford had the urge to brush that hair off her shoulder and then perhaps press his lips to the curve of her neck. But he couldn’t risk kissing her again. That kiss they’d shared at Wentmore...that kiss. He did not know how to describe it. He didn’t have the words to compare it to any other kiss he’d ever experienced. Stratford had always thought of kissing as something one did with a woman before moving to the more interesting activities. But when he looked at Emmeline’s mouth, the urge to kiss her was so strong, he almost gave in.
He had been telling her the truth when he’d said he did not want to ruin their friendship—not that they’d ever really been friends. And he’d hinted that he’d kept some distance between them because he had always wanted more than friendship from her. But how was he to keep distance between them when he was forced to sit in a coach beside her all day? He’d been able to smell her lemon scent, feel the warm press of her leg when the coach veered one way or another, catch her looking at him when she thought he was not paying attention.
“I don’t think the duke expected Ines to be so stubborn. And Mr. Murray is supporting her. Interesting, as he seemed to want to send her away just a few hours ago.”
Stratford shrugged. “He does need a wife.”
“An English wife,” Emmeline corrected. “I think it’s best I keep an eye on him. I’m not at all certain of his intentions.”
Stratford burst out laughing. He didn’t mean to, but it was very difficult to keep a straight face when Emmeline played chaperone.
She frowned at him. “Why do you laugh, sir?”
“Because for a moment I had the image of you scolding Duncan Murray in my head.”
“I could scold him,” she said, hands going to her hips.
“I would much prefer that you scold me.” The tone of his voice was lower than he’d meant it to be. She went still and looked at him from under her lashes.
“What should I scold you for?” she asked, her voice like velvet. His breath caught in his throat and he closed his fists and clenched his hands to keep them from reaching for her.
“Tell me I shouldn’t kiss you again,” he said. “You are the chaperone.”
“You shouldn’t kiss me again,” she said, stepping closer. There was that lemon scent, making his head spin and ruining his willpower. “You should definitely not pull me into your arms, press me against you, and put your mouth on mine, Stratford.”
His breath came in short bursts now, and his short nails dug into his palm. “And if I defy your orders?”
She wet her lips, the tip of her pink tongue visible just long enough to make his knees go weak. “You’ll be sorry.”
He reached for her, hauled her against him. “Make me sorry then,” he murmured and pressed his mouth to hers. Heat instantly flared between them as her mouth connected with his. Her tongue slid against his, making him desperate to pull her closer. Instead, he dug his hands into her hips, which he quickly realized was a mistake. Her figure was as lush as he’d always anticipated, her hips soft and full and perfect in his hands. One part of his mind warned him this was a mistake. The more he kissed her, the more he would want her. And he’d already wanted her for so long, already pushed down that want for so many years that he’d become accustomed to the subtle ache of desire for her every time he saw her or thought of her. But now he had the taste of her on his lips, the smell of her in his nose. That ache would intensify until he did something they would both regret.
He pulled back. “We should stop,” he said, trying to catch his breath and release her before the kitchen staff walked by and caught him with his hands on her.
“We should,” she said. “I’m not behaving like a proper chaperone.”
“You are a terrible chaperone,” he said.
“Just for that.” She grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him to her again. This time they stumbled back until he had her pressed up against the wall. His hands slid—accidentally, of course—to her backside. God, it was so round and plump and perfect. How was he supposed to stop kissing her when she felt like this in his arms?
She did something with her tongue no innocent woman should know how to do, and he felt himself grow rock hard. He could imagine so many delicious things she might do with that tongue.
And of course, that was the moment the kitchen door opened. The light hit them both, and Stratford pushed Emmeline behind him to shield her from the innkeeper’s view. The man’s brows rose. “I’m so sorry, sir.”
Stratford cleared his throat, feeling like a naughty schoolboy. “No matter. I see you have the food we ordered. I’ll let the others know we may eat now.” And he’d tell them to stubble it before the innkeeper heard more than he’d already been treated to.
“Miss Wellesley.” He gestured for Emmeline to precede him and tried valiantly not to look at her bottom as she moved in front of him. When she opened the door, she cleared her throat before he had a chance.
“Dinner has arrived,” she said, giving them all a quelling look that made him want to push her up against the wall all over again. Duncan and Phineas, who had been at each other’s throats, parted and straightened their coats, while Miss Neves, who had been standing on a table, stepped down. They all took seats, Stratford across from Emmeline, Miss Neves at the head of the table, and Murray and Mayne glaring at each other from across the table. The innkeeper set the food down and scurried out of the room, returning a moment later with decanters of wine. Stratford needed a healthy dose of it. Besides the tension in the room from the Highlander and the duke, he couldn’t stop looking at Emmeline and imagining lowering her bodice to free those impressive breasts.
God, he wanted to touch her again.
“I have a suggestion,” Emmeline said. Stratford sincerely doubted it was the same one he was thinking of. “It has been a long day for everyone, and tempers are short. Why don’t we all get a good night’s sleep and discuss things in the morning.”
“Fine,” the duke said. “It’s not as though we can start back for Town this late.”
Miss Neves said something in Portuguese Stratford didn’t understand. Judging from her tone of voice, it was not complimentary. Phineas had been known for his skills as a negotiator during the war. He would need all of those skills tomorrow if he was to persuade the lacemaker to return with him. Stratford looked at Emmeline and wondered what decision she would make. Would she return as well or remain determined to travel north to stay with her grandmother? If the latter, they too would need a chaperone. Stratford didn’t trust himself alone with her any longer.
***
INES
“Where are you going?” Emmeline asked, causing Ines to freeze halfway to the door. She had been so quiet, but it was almost impossible not to wake someone when they were sleeping in the bed beside you.
“To the privy,” Ines whispered, hoping the other woman would turn over and go back to sleep.
“We have a chamber pot.” Emmeline sat and peered at her in the low firelight. “And you are fully dressed.”
“Fine.” Ines pretended to be chastised. “I want to make certain Mr. Murray has no fever.”
“The duke said he would stay with Murray.” Emmeline’s blue eyes narrowed. “You are running away.” She threw back the covers, revealing she was still fully dressed. “Are you mad? You cannot leave on your own.”
“You look ready to leave yourself.”
Emmeline waved a hand, dismissing her concern. “I have Loftus.”
The women both glanced at the dog, who was sleeping on a blanket on the floor, snoring softly.
“And I have somewhere to go. My grandmother will take me in. Where will you go?”
Ines felt her shoulders droop and sat on the edge of the bed. “I do not know. I only know I cannot go back yet. I cannot! All my life I have wanted an adventure. All my life I have wanted romance and to fall in love.”
Emmeline’s jaw dropped open. “Are you eloping with Mr. Murray?”
“Não. He does not want to marry me.”
Emmeline crossed her arms. “You obviously have not seen the way he looks at you. He’d like to do more than kiss you, and men have been known to marry for lesser reasons.”
Ines felt a sudden burst of excitement. “How does he look at me? With lust? Oh, this is wonderful!”
Emmeline shook her head. “You are hopeless. You cannot run away on your own. I had better come with you.”
Ines took her hand. “You would do that?”
“Of course.” She gathered up her few belongings, and the movement woke the dog, who jumped to his feet, tongue lolling with interest. “Leave the candle. We do not want anyone to see us. Quietly now.”
Ines opened the door, but before she could step out, Loftus made a small whining sound. Ines looked down and into the eyes of Duncan Murray, who was lying across the door.
“I thought ye might try something,” he said, looking pleased with himself.
Ines peered down the hallway to make sure no one else was there then grabbed Murray’s uninjured arm and pulled him into the room. She closed the door then glared at him. “Why are you sleeping on the floor? You are injured, senhor! You should be resting.”
“I slept all day. Phineas tried to give me laudanum, but I switched drinks with him and now he’s snoring louder than a drove of piglets.”
Ines was actually impressed. “That means he will sleep most of the morning and perhaps into the afternoon. We will be long gone.”
“And where are we going, lassies? Surely the two of ye dinnae think tae cast oot on yer own.”
And of course, the idiot had to go and act like a man again. “We can take care of ourselves. For years Catarina and I survived on our own. I am not helpless.”
“Well, be that as it may, I will go with ye. I take it ye dinnae plan tae go back tae London. Will ye consider continuing with me tae Scotland?”
“I would not mind seeing Scotland,” Emmeline said.
“It’s settled then,” Murray said. “We go now, before dawn, and we walk until we find a farmer willing tae let us ride in his cart.”
Emmeline frowned. “What about the coach and driver?”
Murray shook his head. “Too easy for Draven and Mayne tae track. How do ye think he found us?”
Ines looked from Murray to Emmeline. “What about Mr. Fortescue?”
Emmeline shook her head. “He’s only stayed with us out of a sense of obligation toward me. He’d much rather go home. Now he will be able to return.”
Murray let out a bark of laughter. “If ye think he will just run home and give up, ye dinnae ken him verra well, lass.”
Emmeline gave him a stony look. “Shall we wake him and waste more time in discussions or leave now and put some distance between the duke and ourselves?”
Murray scratched his head. “It’s best if we wake him. He willnae take it kindly if we leave him behind.”
“Well, I vote we leave him behind.” She looked at Ines. “What is your vote?”
Ines knew who her ally was and did not hesitate. “Leave him.”
“This is why women are nae allowed tae vote,” Murray grumbled. “Nae, dinnae lead the way. I’ll go first and make sure all is clear.”
He opened the door, and Ines slid behind him, liking the warmth of him in front of her. She’d been ready to go on her own, but now that he was here, she could not stop herself from sliding her hand into his. The Highlander’s hand was rough and callused, and she never wanted to let it go. How could she have been willing to leave him behind just a quarter hour ago? She couldn’t imagine never kissing him again, never touching him again. She hadn’t known kissing could be like he had shown her. If kissing was that wonderful, why did Catarina and Draven not kiss all the time? Perhaps they did, in private. And that led her to wonder if the other things done in private were as wonderful as kissing. How could she convince Murray to give her a taste of that forbidden fruit?
But she had to be careful not to fall in love with him. How many times had Catarina told her that just because a man desired a woman, that didn’t mean he loved her? Ines had seen too many girls in her shop heartbroken because they’d fallen in love with men who did not love them back. She’d seen a number of babies born as well due to men’s lies about love and women’s willingness to believe them. Slowly, Ines pulled her hand out of Murray’s and tucked it in her pocket.