He immediately froze, arrested by the look in her eyes as much as the tone of her voice.
“It’s just . . .” She trailed off, looking unsure of what to say. Swallowing, she drew a deep breath, rose up on her toes, and pressed her mouth full across his.
He was so surprised, he didn’t react at first. But when her hands stole up around his neck, pulling him even closer to her, he gave in to the kiss. It was exactly what he wanted, what his body craved, and he couldn’t stop his own arms from encircling her slender waist. She was somehow bold and tentative all at once—a little bit wicked and a lot tempting.
Her lips parted, and he slipped his tongue into her mouth. She responded at once, sliding hers over his in a dance that made his heart hammer. He heard nothing but her soft moan, felt nothing but her body against his, tasted nothing but her sweet mouth. She inhabited his every sense, and he loved it.
When at last the kiss ended, he was near light-headed with the pounding of his poor heart and his desire for her. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips slightly swollen as she stepped back. “Now that was a proper first kiss.”
He broke into a broad grin, shaking his head at her. No one could ever master her perfect mix of frank adorableness. “I’d say that was a good deal more than proper. I feel as though I should apologize for taking advantage of you, but I’m fairly certain you have the advantage here.”
“Exactly the way I like it.” Her eyes shone with impish delight, and he resisted the urge to tuck her beneath his chin, hugging her to him. “Now, then, about that pose.”
The world was still as it was before the kiss—he was sure of it—but for him, everything somehow felt different. Beatrice didn’t just respect him, didn’t simply admire his father and enjoy the company of the man’s son. No, clearly she saw him, Colin, and liked him as much as he did her. No one kissed like that without the hot simmer of attraction burning deep inside them. That thought brought a rather pleased smile to his lips.
He leaned back against the window and spread his arms. “Care to adjust my position?”
Her laughter was sweet and merry. “Indeed I would, but I think perhaps I should refrain. And truly, it’s getting quite late. I should probably be getting home.”
“Of course.” As she gathered up the notebook and pencil, he went to the easel and plucked a handful of brushes out of one of the cups. “Here. Take these with you. Perhaps they will give you some inspiration as you work this week.”
Her gaze settled on his offering before rising up to meet his. “You are too kind to me.” She accepted the offering, tucking the handful of brushes against her chest, along with the folded piece of paper that contained her sketch. “Although I hardly think I shall be in want of inspiration this week.”
With a wink, she turned, collected her maid, and made good her retreat. He stood in the window, watching as they emerged onto the street below and headed toward St. James’s Square. Just before she disappeared around the corner, she turned around, touched her fingertips to her lips, and offered up a small wave.
And with that, he was lost.
“What has you smiling so brightly this afternoon? You look like the cat that got the cream.”
Jane eyed Beatrice over her teacup as she took a dainty sip. Her eyes were more green than brown just then, which meant Beatrice had clearly piqued her interest.
“Sir Colin gave her a bunch of his father’s paintbrushes,” Jocelyn said around a bite of ginger biscuit, rolling her eyes in the process. “One wonders if he has ever heard of flowers before.”
Beatrice glared at her sister, despite the fact she provided the perfect excuse for Beatrice’s overbright smile and warm, sure-to-be-rosy cheeks. “Anyone can give a lady flowers. It takes a very special man to come up with something much more personal.”
Jane bit back a grin, her porcelain skin blushing a pretty shade of pink. “Indeed.” When she realized all three of her sisters-in-law were looking at her with interest, she cleared her throat. “Well, Beatrice is right. Flowers and poems are all well and good, but it’s the more unique gifts that stand out during courtship.”
“Courtship?”
Beatrice turned, internally groaning at her brother’s dreadful timing. Looking sharp in his deep blue jacket and gray breeches, he strode into the room and sat beside his wife. “Who is courting whom and why have I not yet heard?”
“Perhaps,” Jane said, sliding her hand through the crook of his arm, “because you’ve had other things on your mind lately.”
His gaze softened as he glanced to Jane’s still-flat belly. “Excellent point.” He leaned over and kissed her square on the lips, ignoring the twins’ groan. Beatrice couldn’t help but smile, however. Their happiness was a long time coming, and it did her heart good to see them so in love.
Richard returned his attention to the room at large. “Right then. Well, I’m here and present now. All I need is the name and direction of the scoundrel who thinks to court my sister, and I’ll be off.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Bea said, rolling her eyes at his threats. “And honestly, I’m not even being properly courted yet. We’re merely . . . enjoying shared interests.” For some reason, the words brought to mind their incredible kiss, and without her consent, her cheeks heated with a blush.
Her brother’s brows rose, and he exchanged a quick glance with Jane. “That’s it—tell me his name now so I can get the headstone carved in time for the burial.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake—stop teasing. Sir Colin has been a perfect gentleman. It’s I who gets flustered every time I think of who his father was.”
“So you’re thinking of his father now?” Carolyn asked, setting down her teacup. Jocelyn chuckled, earning them both a glare from Beatrice. Carolyn patted Beatrice’s knee, smiling sweetly. “I’m only teasing. And it sounds as though the brushes truly were a lovely gesture.”
“Brushes?” Richard asked.
“He gave her a bouquet of his father’s paintbrushes,” Jane supplied, ever so helpfully.
“Sir Colin Tate, then. One ‘L,’ two ‘T’s’?” He pantomimed spelling the name out on an invisible pad of paper.
Beatrice raised a haughty brow. “You forget, I think, that I know all about the certain bouquet—or should I say basket?—you sent to Jane. Or didn’t you know? Cook does so like to chat when she’s cooking.”
“Right then,” he said, winking to her as he reached for a chocolate biscuit and took a bite. “Though I’m not entirely certain you are helping your cause by pointing that particular similarity out. Am I to assume Sir Colin’s intentions toward you are the same as mine were toward Jane?”
“Good heavens, I should hope not. I think you’ll find Sir Colin to be quite the gentleman.” Except when she pushed the issue, in which case he could be deliciously ungentlemanly.
“And are the brushes a declaration of intent?”
“No, nothing like that. He knows how much I admire his father and decided to pass them on to a fellow artist.”
“Mmhmm.” Richard took another bite of his biscuit. “Darling, these are excellent, as usual,” he said, smiling to Jane. He then turned his attention back to Beatrice, tilting his head just so, with a decidedly wicked gleam in his eye. “Perhaps I’ll take a batch when I go to visit Sir Gift Giver.”
Beatrice collapsed back against the sofa, scowling at her brother. She did not want him sticking his nose into things. One, she didn’t want to cause Colin undue worry, and two, she didn’t want to scare him away.
Especially when she was having a hard time thinking of anything other than his perfect kiss. A wisp of pleasure danced through her at the memory. She wanted more of that, not less. “Richard, if you embarrass me, so help me, I will make you regret it. Sir Colin is a nice man and deserves respect.”