The Sum of All Kisses

Her head shook; he didn’t think she was even aware of the movement. “But why would he do such a thing?”

It would have been a sensible question had they been talking about anyone other than Hugh’s father. Hugh closed his eyes for a moment, utterly mortified by what he was forced to say. “My father believes that if we are locked in the room together, you will be compromised.”

She didn’t say a word.

“And thus forced to marry me,” Hugh added, not that he thought this had been unclear.

She froze, her eyes never leaving the knot she’d been so diligently trying to release. Hugh felt something heavy and dark settle around his heart.

“I’m not sure why,” she finally said. Her voice was slow, and very careful, as if she was worried that the wrong word might set off an avalanche of distasteful events.

Hugh had no idea how to respond to that. They both knew the rules that bound their society. They would be discovered together, in a room with a bed, and Sarah would be presented with two choices: marriage or ruin. And despite everything she had learned about him that morning, Hugh had to think that of the two, he was still the better choice.

“It’s not as if you could compromise me while you’re tied to a bed,” she said, still not looking at him.

Hugh swallowed. His tastes had never run toward such things, but now it was impossible not to think of all the ways one could be compromised while tied to a bed.

She caught her lower lip between her teeth. “Maybe I should just leave you like this,” she said.

“Leave me . . . like this?” he choked out.

“Well, yes.” She frowned, bringing one hand to her mouth in a worried gesture. “That way when someone arrives, and someone will—Daniel can’t have been too far behind me—he will see that nothing could possibly have happened.”

“Your cousin knows you’re here?”

She nodded. “Honoria insisted upon telling him. But I thought— Your father— I didn’t want—” She pushed her wet hair from her eyes. “I thought if I could get here first, I might be able to— I don’t know, calm everything down.”

Hugh groaned.

“I know,” she said, the expression in her eyes matching his grim chuckle precisely. “I wasn’t expecting . . .”

“ . . . this?” he finished for her, and he would have motioned to himself with a derisive wave of his hand . . . if said hands hadn’t been bloody well tied to the bedposts.

“It’s going to be ugly when Daniel gets here,” Sarah whispered.

Hugh didn’t bother to confirm. She knew it was true.

“I know you said that your father will not hurt him, but—” She turned abruptly, her eyes alight with thought. “Would it do any good if I pounded on the door? I could scream for help. If someone arrived before Daniel . . .”

He shook his head. “That will give him precisely what he wants. A witness to your alleged destruction.”

“But you’re tied to the bed!”

“I don’t suppose it has occurred to you that someone might think that you tied me.”

She gasped.

“Precisely.”

She jumped away from the bed as if burned. “But that’s— That’s—”

He decided not to finish her sentence this time.

“Oh, my God.”

Hugh tried not to notice the horror in her expression. Bloody hell, if she had not been completely revolted by him after the revelations of that morning, she certainly was now. He let out an uneven breath. “I’ll find some way,” he said, even though he had no idea how he might keep such a promise. “You won’t have to . . . I’ll find a way.”

Sarah looked up. Her eyes were fixed on the wall, and he could see her face in three-quarter profile. Her expression was stiff, uncomfortable. “If we explain to Daniel . . .” She swallowed, and Hugh followed the slight motion down the soft length of her neck. He’d kissed her there once. More than once. She had tasted of lemons and salt and she had smelled like woman, and he had been so bloody hard for her he’d thought he would embarrass himself.

And now here he was, with his every dream being handed to him on the proverbial platter, and all he could think was that he needed to find a way to prevent it. He could not live with himself if she was forced into marriage, even if it was his most desperate desire.

“I think he will understand,” Sarah said haltingly. “And he will not force the issue. I don’t want . . .” She looked away, completely now, and he could not see her face. “I don’t want anyone to feel obliged . . .”

She did not finish. Hugh nodded, deciding how best to interpret her words. He’d been planning to ask her to marry him; she knew that. Was this her way of hinting that he should not ask? After all this, she still sought to spare him the humiliation.

“Of course not,” he finally said. Three meaningless words, spoken just to fill the silence. He had no idea what he was about any longer.

She chewed on her lip again, and he could only stare as her tongue flicked gently out to moisten the spot where her teeth had just been. And just like that, his body was set aflame. It was the most inappropriate reaction imaginable, but he could not stop thinking about taking his tongue and sliding it along her lip, across the spot she was worrying and over to the corner. Then he’d move lower, to the curve of her neck, and—

“Please untie me,” he practically croaked.

“But—”

“I can’t feel my hands,” he said, seizing on the first excuse he could think of. It wasn’t remotely true, but his body was leaping to life, and if he did not get free soon, there would be no way to hide his desire.