The Officer and the Proper Lady. Louise Allen

would not be chaste, or respectful or subject to the dictates of a chaperone. His would be exciting and dangerous and she had no vocabulary to even fantasize about them. But she wanted them. Mouth dry, Julia stared back into the troubled, stormy eyes above her and became very still, waiting.

      Julia was waiting for him to kiss her. Hal could see it in her wide, trusting eyes, in the softly parted lips, in the way her breathing had become faster as he held her. Had she ever been kissed before? Kissed, as a man like him would kiss her? Of course not. And he wanted to take that first kiss, that first taste of innocence. He wanted to mould her lips with his, to open them and explore with his tongue, plunder the sweet, moist secrets of her mouth. Taste her, teach her his taste. Teach her to know his body and her own.

      Wanted? Hell, he needed to kiss her, ached to do it. He was iron-hard with arousal as he stood there.

      She would let him because, madly, she seemed to trust him, despite his warnings, despite what she must have heard about him. She would let him kiss her, because she had no idea what it would be like or what fire she would be playing with. She thought kisses were sweetly romantic, that one brush of the lips was all that would be exchanged here.

      He stared down at the heart-shaped face, the absurdly determined little chin, the tip-tilted nose, the intelligent eyes, all shadowed by the upturned brim of that fancy new hat. She was his to take. She was all he wanted. And he had no idea why.

      Hell, why not? He had always felt denying temptation was over-rated. He wanted her, she wanted him—and afterwards, he would be cured of this ridiculous desire. Hal swallowed. It wasn’t like that with Julia; he couldn’t be that calculating, it was wrong…

      But if he kissed her, made love to her skilfully so he did not alarm her, if he was careful and made certain she wanted him as much as he wanted her—was that so very wrong?

      As though of their own volition, his hands came up to untie the thick silk of the bonnet ribbons, slithering like a warm caress over the backs of his hands. He tossed the hat aside, and her eyes widened so he could see his own reflection in them, but she made no sound of protest, only parted those soft, infinitely tempting lips in a little gasp.

      Hal bent his head and skimmed his lips over her temple, feathering the delicate skin with tiny kisses. Julia tipped her head like a cat, and he moved lower, down her cheek, nipping lightly at the earlobe. She caught her breath, and he stopped, waiting for her to accept the different sensation. It was intriguing to discover her untutored responses, to lead with an inexperienced partner and not to expect her to reciprocate.

      His fingers moved up to cup her head and encountered pins. One by one, he pulled them free and her hair came down, transforming her into the image of a wood nymph in the green glade.

      ‘Ah yes,’ Hal murmured and bent to kiss her. Her mouth was so sweet, tasting blamelessly of sugar and spice and lemonade. She smelled so fresh, so good, and, when he pulled her to him she came with a yielding that part of his mind, the part that was quite deliberately using all his skill to seduce her, recognized as innocence.

      How long was it since he had tasted innocence? He recoiled from the memory of youthful passion, of naïve intentions made to seem impure and wrong. He wanted that purity again, even though all he could bring to it was the soiled expertise of experience.

      Under his, her lips softened, parted without resistance when he probed with his tongue, feeling the sensual delight overwhelm his lingering scruples. Ah yes. Her response was total and trusting; it told him he could move further, and, when he slid one hand to her breast, rubbed his palm against it as if by accident, he felt the nipple peaking, rising for him.

      Julia could hear her own voice, even though words were beyond her. She had expected Hal to kiss her on the mouth, and he had. But he seemed as fascinated by her throat, her ears, her cheek, her temple…‘Aah,’ she whispered as his lips found the swell of her breasts above the froth of lace.

      She wanted to pull him back to her mouth, which ought to feel safer than these mysterious sensations that were sending shivers down her spine, making her breasts ache, creating that strange sensation in the pit of her stomach and the embarrassing heat where her thighs…She couldn’t think about it, only feel.

      Julia lifted her hands and ran them into the thick gold-brown hair, tugging gently until he lifted his head, his eyes bright and intent. ‘What do you want?’ he asked, his voice husky.

      ‘I don’t know,’ she whispered. ‘I want something and I don’t know what it is.’

      ‘We will find it,’ Hal promised, capturing her mouth again, one hand cupping her breast, the thumb stroking through the flimsy fabric, tormenting the hard nub. It would take very little, he thought hazily, to bring her to the peak, to tip her into ecstasy, to give her pleasure and be satisfied with that himself. But his usual control seemed to be slipping, his breathing was all over the place, and it was an effort not to crush her to him, grind his hips against her yielding body. She smelled so sweet, felt so soft, yielded so passionately.

      He was drowning in her as much as she in him, swept away by emotions he had had not felt in years. He had to have her, he realized, his sophisticated control shattered.

      There was fabric and fastenings between him and his goal now. Without lifting his mouth, Hal went to his knees, taking Julia with him, down into the long, soft grass spangled with flowers, their scent as innocent as she was. Then he was stretched above her, his fingers finding their own wicked way around buttons and tapes; she quivered as they brushed her skin.

      His booted feet shifted, crushing the lush grass, filling the air around them with the smell of it, bringing with it a swirl of memories and emotions long buried. Confused, Hal opened his eyes. The sunlight through the branches sifted shadows over her spread hair, and he was shaken out of the present, back to another wood, another time—with a girl as innocent and sweetly generous as Julia.

      The suppressed memory surged back: shouting and discovery and a rural idyll exposed as adolescent desire that had got out of hand. Whoreson rakehell…The voices filled his head, stabbed at his conscience, killed his desire.

      Hal rolled away from Julia and sat up, raking his hands through his hair, breathing hard through clenched teeth. Damn it, he had learned expertise and with it, control, so that a whoreson rakehell he might be, but he was a skilful one, utterly in command of himself. So command yourself now.

      ‘I am sorry.’ He made himself look at Julia as she sat up, her mouth swollen with his kisses, her eyes wide and confused by his assault on her senses and his withdrawal. ‘Did I hurt you? I’m as bad as he is. Hell…’

      ‘No,’ she said, her hands fumbling blindly with the bodice of her gown. ‘No. You would have stopped if I had asked you, wouldn’t you?’

      ‘Yes.’ Please God that is true. He rested his head on his knees for a moment, fighting the dread that he might not have listened. ‘I’m sorry, I warned you what I am, but I should not expect you to understand.’

      Julia was silent. He made himself look at her and found she had fastened her gown and was standing up, brushing at her skirts, her hair still tumbled around her shoulders. Just the sight of it sent a spear of lust through his groin. Hal got to his feet and went to pick up her bonnet, holding it while she twisted her hair up, fixing it with the pins that remained, then trapping it under the hat.

      ‘No, I do not understand,’ she murmured at last. ‘I

      do not understand what I felt just now, why I…when I know I should not.’

      He had no answers for her, no excuses. ‘If you take that path there, you will find you come out very close to the tents.’ Hal pointed back to the way he had entered the clearing, just wanting her gone, safe, away from him.

      He made himself stand still while she smiled a little uncertainly and walked away, vanishing in seconds into the green foliage. Then he went to sit on the tree trunk, clasped his hands, leaned his forearms on his thighs and stared at the crushed grass. He must stay away from her. There were a number of perfectly pleasant men—worthy