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Ivy stepped back, her eyes leaving his face as she studied the fire, and shivered.
"Who are you, Ivy?" he whispered, cupping her chin and turning her face toward his.
"If you do not know, I cannot tell you," she replied, and then with a little chuckle she added, "Našti garaves muca ande gono, lake vundžja ka-sitjaren-pe."
"What does that mean?" he asked. The words had been another language, soft and rhythmic. The effect on him was hypnotic. He could have listened to her speak like that deep into the night.
"It's Romani for ‘the truth will eventually reveal itself.' My father is Romani. I am half Romani." Her hushed response sounded like a confession.
"Your mother?" he prompted, gripped by curiosity. He'd assumed she was possibly Italian but a Gypsy? Definitely not. It did explain her unique but beautiful coloring, though.
"English," she replied. "Does it shock you, my lord? To have two Gypsies under your roof?" Her tone turned frosty. "Will you have Gordon counting the silver and locking it away now that you know what we are?"
A prickle of irritation stung his skin. He didn't give a damn that she was half Romani. Her father was rich, and he had brought Ivy up in society to be an intelligent and fierce woman. There was nothing wrong with that. Leo may have been a traditionalist in many matters, but never about men making a life for themselves. If anything, he wished to commend Mr. Leighton on his success. But the last thing he wanted to think about in that moment was her father. All he wanted was to hold her in his arms and kiss her, the way he'd been longing to from the moment she'd descended the stairs for dinner and he'd been captivated by her radiant smile and honey-brown eyes.
"What you are … is my guest," he answered.
Her lips parted, no doubt to protest with that all-too-sharp tongue of hers, but he didn't give her a chance. He held the back of her neck with one hand and slanted his mouth down over hers in a possessive, silencing kiss.
Let her argue with this.
The swell of triumph was quickly consumed by his own desire to lose himself in her and the lingering spell of her lips. After her initial shock, she gave in and curled her arms around his neck. He drew her backward until the backs of his knees bumped into a chair. He settled down and pulled her crossways onto his lap. Her gown rustled as it fell over his legs. She felt good, so bloody good in his arms. He continued to explore her mouth; then he left little kisses along her jaw and down to where her neck met her shoulder.
Her elegant, slender fingers threaded in his hair, lightly tugging on the strands as she responded to his attentions with delightful abandon. The crack and snap of the logs in the fire were the only sounds aside from their shared breathing. The warmth of the flames heated Ivy's back and Leo's hands as they traced her spine. Everything about holding her, kissing her felt right. No doubts intruded on this perfect kiss.
God, please never let this end. He murmured the silent prayer over and over in his heart.
* * *
"Leo," she breathed in his ear. "I feel so strange," she confessed before pressing a kiss to his chin.
He didn't let up but pulled her closer, one hand sliding up her skirts, tracing her stocking-covered calf.
"Strange?" he asked as he twirled his fingers in the ribbons that held her garter up.
The touch of his fingers burned her skin and made her tingle in secret places.
"Light-headed, hot and cold all over." As she spoke, a little shiver moved through her. He kissed her neck and then her shoulder and collarbone, only increasing her physical symptoms.
"I'm doing something right, then." He kissed her mouth and she smiled, delighted anew at the feel of their lips melding together.
"Do you trust me?" he asked.
"I … uh … " She did trust him. She always had. Sixteen years away hadn't changed that. Leo was a man she would follow anywhere if he asked her to.
"Let me pleasure you, please?" With gentle but determined hands, he explored her undergarments. Every rational thought screamed at her to deny him what he sought, but every carnal desire and instinct led her back to one gasping reply.
"Yes."
"Thank God." He inched her closer and parted her legs with his hands. She gave him better access but jerked when he touched her.
"Easy, love, easy." His gentle shushing soothed her. She tried to absorb the shocking sensation of his fingers as they stroked over her tender flesh. It took all of her control not to clamp her thighs together at the sudden rush of wetness.