‘Perhaps I was wrong,’ Catherine ventured softly, her eyes focused on her gloved hand encased in his and laying against his chest. ‘Perhaps you are more like a rainforest, with your depths and your secrets. I don’t think people really know you at all, Finn Deverill.’ She certainly didn’t, or hadn’t until this little glimpse. If she’d known him, she’d never have thought he was dull. There wasn’t a boring bone in Finn’s body. No man could do what he’d done, seen what he’d seen and remain two-dimensional.
He squeezed her hand. ‘The people who count do.’ He gave her a smile and she felt the warmth of realisation sweep her. He counted her among their number.
‘I’m most unusually wrong. You’re not a winter.’ The moment had unnerved her and she was babbling again, desperately out of her depths. ‘Now, Channing’s a—’
Finn shook his head slightly. ‘I don’t want to hear about Channing.’ That was when it happened. Finn’s gloved hands came up and took her face between them. This time there could be no mistake, no sudden retreat. This time, he kissed her. His mouth covered hers, taking full possession, and she welcomed it. Her body knew what to do and her mouth opened to his, her arms about his neck, her body moulding to his, all of her suggesting this intimate gesture was most welcome.
There was not one kiss, but a series of kisses as their mouths learned one another, tongues exploring tentatively at first, then more confidently finding their way and yet there was something leashed behind the encounter that yearned to break free, yearned to claim more. A fire was kindling low in her belly, a delicious heat running through her veins. She could feel the press of his form, the manly contours of him even through their layers of clothes.
Kissing Finn Deverill was extraordinary. Kissing Finn Deverill was impossible.
He must have realised it the same instant she did. They sprang apart by implicit consent. They stared at one another with mixed expressions: horror warring with amazement. She fumbled for words, but Finn found them first.
‘I am sorry. I was overcome by your beauty and the moment. We should forget this ever happened.’
They weren’t exactly what a girl wanted to hear after the most earth-shattering kiss she’d ever received, but Catherine nodded, knowing that her nod was already a lie. She doubted she would ever forget the day she kissed Finn Deverill any more than she’d forget the day she’d discovered just how fascinating he really was.
Chapter Four
Finn sipped his brandy, feet balanced on the fender of the fireplace in the library. A warm fire and a fine brandy might create a more comfortable setting for contemplating what he’d done, but they couldn’t change it. He’d kissed Catherine. Devoured her was a more accurate description. What had he been thinking?
That was the problem. He hadn’t been thinking at all. He’d been feeling, something he seldom allowed himself to do. Feelings weren’t good for science. But he was thinking now, when it was too late. Even so, the solitude of the library was failing to provide him any valid answers to his thoughts.
Normally, this was the place he came when he thought about his work, his flowers, his plants. Tonight, all he could do was think about Catherine. He thought about how she’d looked, so vibrant with her auburn hair and deep-teal-wool skating costume with its skirts short enough to let her skate with ease. She’d been a splash of vibrant colour against the stark beauty of the winter landscape. He thought about how she’d felt in his arms, how she’d wanted to be in his arms. There’d been no reticence about her. Her arms had gone about his neck, her body had pressed willingly to his, her breasts soft against his chest.
Arousal was stirring again. He had to stop thinking about it! Suffice to say, she’d liked his kiss, more than liked it, and so had he. That was the problem, the only problem in an otherwise perfect day. He and Catherine had skated back to the party and judiciously avoided one another the rest of the day, although that hadn’t stopped him from watching her.
The rest of the outing had gone off without any trouble. Lunch had been a delicious assortment of cold meats and hot soup. The guests had enjoyed themselves. No one had twisted an ankle, or cut a leg with a blade or any of the other small crises that can plague a skating party, although Finn had prepared for all contingencies.
It was a good thing the rest of the day had been so carefully planned because he wasn’t sure he could have dragged his attention away from Catherine. Finn had found it deuced difficult not to seek her out with his eyes and what he’d seen had infuriated him.