“I don’t want to be your love,” Roberta said, giggling.
“You could give it a try.” He put an arm around her waist and before she knew it she had her back against an old apple tree. His mouth looked very delectable, but—
“Are you really trying to seduce me?”
“Of course,” he said, leaning over to brush his mouth against hers.
“You smell a little bit like a cowpat,” she said.
“I could say the same to you.”
“Don’t. I prefer to think of myself as perfumed.”
“I prefer to think of you as naked,” he said, his voice a husky murmur against the sound of birds singing.
She let him kiss her. Why not? He was a rogue, but such an enjoyable one. She relaxed against him, letting him slip into her mouth, start a game that made her heart pound. He had his hair tied back, so she pulled on the ribbon until all that loose silk fell into her hands, the way it had the previous night.
He was kissing her with a breathless intensity now, his mouth slanting over hers, invading her, retreating. His lips were hot and beautifully full. She licked his lower lip and he let out a little noise, like a muffled groan.
It was so odd that she pulled back to stare at him.
That was a bad idea because Damon seemed to have shed his friendly exterior. He snatched her back so quickly she lost her breath, and kissed her hard, so her knees buckled. He had her against the tree trunk, and she could feel every hard curve of his body.
“Don’t push at me,” she gasped. “This tree has bumps on it.”
“We can lie down.”
“No.”
“Then I’ll have to protect you from those evil bumps,” he said, sliding his hand over the curve of her bottom and pulling her against his body. He had bumps of his own, and her body welcomed each of them with feverish delight.
It made her feel weak and silly, capable of collapsing against him and squealing, take me, or something foolish of that nature. That dim suggestion was just enough to bring her thoughts together.
She pulled back and this time he let her go, bracing his arms on the tree on either side of her. Kissing made her feel delicate and fragile, all those things she wasn’t and never could be.
“Are you trying to seduce me?” he demanded. “Because, damn it, Roberta, you’re about as close to success as I’ve ever come with a marriageable young woman.”
“No, I’m not,” she said, pushing his arms away. He had no reason to look quite so shocked at the idea that she might be seductive. “You know I’m not.”
He straightened. “Because you’re in love with Villiers, right?”
“Among other reasons,” she said, straightening her skirts.
He still sounded a little stunned. “If you weren’t in love, you still wouldn’t want to seduce me?”
Roberta looked up at him. He had a look of utter disbelief on his face. He stood there, muscled and lean in his white shirt, his hair tousled by her hands, and his eyes narrowed. She started laughing.
“I’ll kiss you silent,” he threatened.
So she sobered. “It’s just that—well, you will fall in love someday, Damon, and then you’ll see what I mean. You’re awfully handsome and very sweet, funny and all the rest of it. Just not for me.”
“Sweet and funny?” He ran a hand through his hair and it looked even wilder. “Damn it, what happened to my ribbon?”
She picked it up and watched as he pulled his hair back and tied it off his face. The style suited him; it made his cheekbones even more prominent.
“Haven’t you ever been in love?” she asked.
“Of course I have,” he said, smirking at her. “Many a time.”
“No, really in love.”