“You did laugh. I was there, remember?”
“Yes,” Alex growled, “I did laugh. It was very, very badly done of me. Yes, I would take it back if I could. But truly, there are only so many ways I can tell you I had no intentions of insulting you, and only so many times I can apologize for having done so, before I—”
“So you wouldn’t take back the kiss?”
“What?”
“I believe you heard me.”
Alex had no idea when he had lost control of the conversation, although he thought it a fair bet to place that event somewhere in the vicinity of when Sophie had first opened her mouth. He certainly had no clue as to when he had lost all comprehension of what was being discussed, because he had thought they were speaking of his having laughed, and here she was asking about the kiss. He did know, however, that he was very, very uncomfortable with this unfamiliar feeling of bewilderment, and it was on the tip of his tongue to say something flip, to knock the scales in his favor. But something in the way she was looking at him gave him pause.
She didn’t appear angry, nor was she pouting or crying or anything else one might expect under the circumstances. She was sitting straight-backed as usual, but her eyes were downcast and her hands were working knots into the front of her dress again.
Would he take back the kiss? Hell no. He wanted to say just that, hell no. But he knew, somehow he knew with his whole being, right down to his toes, that her question was more important to her than everything else that had been said between them. Somehow his answer had to reflect that, not just in what he said, but how he said it. He had one chance to make all of this right, one chance to gain back her trust. It amazed him just how much he wanted that.
Gently, Alex reached out and took her chin in his hand, turning her so she had to look him in the eyes. “I would not,” he said slowly and carefully, “trade that kiss for all the world and everything in it. It was perfect.”
Sophie’s eyes grew alarmingly wide. He took that as an encouraging sign. “I would,” he continued, “gladly give up all I have to take back what happened after. Truly, Sophie, I am sorry.” He paused a moment to let his words sink in. “Will you forgive me?”
She looked at him with such intensity and held herself so very still that for one terrifying moment Alex thought she might say no. But then she blinked, pursed those remarkably eloquent lips, and nodded as if she had just read through his thoughts and found them satisfactory.
“Yes,” she said quietly, but distinctly. “I forgive you.”
And then she smiled. It was really more of a wisp of a smile, but it was enough. Alex leaned forward, took her face in his hands, and kissed her with an intensity that surprised him.
He wanted to show her something. Tell her something. Convince her of something important. Only, he had no idea what that something was. That she wouldn’t regret having forgiven him? That he desired her more than any woman he had ever known? That—
And then all thought was lost in a heartbeat, because she was kissing him back. Still adorably unpolished, still stirringly eager. She let out a tiny feminine moan, and he was lost, uncaring that she was an innocent, that he had an assignment. He would have her. He had to have her. His arms went around her shoulders and waist, pressing her body tightly against his. He wanted to wrap himself around her. To feel every inch of her. To taste her. Devour her. His lips left her mouth to trail down her neck. She moaned again. The carriage hit a rut.
The carriage. They were in a carriage. On the way to her town house. He would need more time. As a gentleman, he should have been disgusted with the idea of making love to a lady in a carriage. At the moment, however, his thoughts were focused not on where they were, but on where he wanted her to be—namely naked and under him.
More time. He needed more time. He needed to tell the driver to take the long way about. He let his lips trail down to the hollow of her collarbone, then took a deep breath to clear his head.
And gagged.
Sophie’s eyes flew open at the sound.
“…Alex?”
For a moment he neither spoke nor moved. Then, slowly, ever so slowly, he raised his head to look at her. Sophie had never seen that particular expression on anyone’s face before. He looked sheepish, a little green around the edges, and something else she just couldn’t identify.
“I am so sorry, Sophie,” he groaned in what Sophie thought might be the most fatalistic manner she had ever heard.
“Did you just…?”
“It’s the dress.”
“The dress? What’s wrong with—oh, no. I’d forgotten…how mortifying.”
Alex grunted. “You’re not the one who just gagged.”