They soon arrived at the maze entrance, the precisely trimmed boxwood hedge rising upward in a seemingly impenetrable wall of thick, leafy green. The warm, ripe scent of vegetation hung in the air, birds chirping in nearby tree branches, while a pair of butterflies danced on the light breeze.
Yet Jack was barely aware of anything except the woman at his side and his anticipation of the mock hunt to come.
"I'll give you to the count of ten," he declared, tucking her satchel into a sheltered spot just inside the entrance where he felt certain it would be safe. "Hurry along now, else I catch you." Crossing his arms over his chest, he turned his back to the maze opening. "One!"
Grace sprinted away.
"Two!" he called in a carrying voice. "I can still hear you."
She giggled, bushes rustling as she clearly ran into her first obstacle.
"Three!"
The sound of her passing grew more distant, the accelerating beat of his heart taking its place.
"Four!"
He heard an "oh drat" and smiled, trying to estimate how far into the maze she had likely traveled.
"Five!"
Her footfalls faded into silence, as he fought the urge to turn in search of a lingering view.
"Six!"
I shouldn't have given her so much time.
"Seven!"
What if she eludes me?
"Eight!"
What if she doesn't?
"Nine!"
Almost there.
"Ten! Ready or not, here I come!"
Turning sharply on his heel, he headed inside.
Grace bit her lip and forced herself not to giggle, her feet flying as she hurried along a narrow corridor of greenery that towered far above her head.
A few moments later, Lord Jack finished his count of ten and started after her. Soon, a distant rustling sounded, making her wonder if he'd blundered into the same trap in which she'd also been temporarily ensnared. But he was smart and resourceful and would soon find his way free.
Knowing she dare not waste a second, she continued on. Yet each turn looked frustratingly like the one before, every angle leading to a potential trap. Coming to a new break in the foliage, she stopped and looked right, then left, wondering which choice led in the correct direction.
Behind her, she couldn't hear Jack at all now, his progress silent despite his large physique. He might be tall, but he was agile, quick and stealthy on his feet. She knew how a doe must feel being pursued by an experienced hunter. Her heart thudded beneath her breasts, her breath issuing in soft gusts-though with excitement, she realized, not fear.
Making a random choice, she turned and dashed forward, the pale blue skirt of her India muslin gown floating around her as she ran. The move led her deeper into the labyrinth, drawing her in ever-tightening circles, each one more bewildering than the last.
///
Twice, she had to double back, worried every time that she would stumble upon Lord Jack, or he upon her. But as the minutes ticked past, she realized that he must be as mired in confusion as she. She also became aware of the fact that the two of them were completely alone-no hint of other human voices or movement anywhere in the vicinity.
Finally she sensed she was nearing the center of the maze, her goal barely feet away. But being close to the middle and actually finding it were two different things.
Turning again, she glided forward, her steps bringing her into a square-shaped section of hedge that functioned as a box. An inescapable box from which there was no exit save the one through which she had come. Trapped, she raced back toward the break in the vegetation.
She was just passing through when a long male arm emerged seemingly from out of nowhere, coiling like steel around her waist.
She squealed, the sound reverberating in the air, as she twisted for a moment in Lord Jack's grasp.
"Got you!" he exclaimed, triumph plain in his voice.
"Oh, you scared me!" she said, breathless as she met his gaze. "You're as silent as a breeze."
"And you're as lithe as a gazelle, slipping from row to row as though you were made of fog. For a few moments, I thought I'd lost track of you."
"This is a tricky maze. The center is nearby, though. Shall we both dash to find it?"
A gleam came into his eyes, along with an expression she'd never seen him wear before. He shook his head, his gaze roaming over her face before lowering to her lips.
"No," he murmured in a tone as rough as gravel. "I have what I came to find."
She trembled, abruptly aware that he was still holding her against him. Her heart leapt when he reached up and began untying the bow that anchored her bonnet in place.
"What are you doing, my lord?"
He smiled. "Claiming a forfeit. I caught you. I believe I deserve a reward."
"B-but the game isn't finished."
"You're right about that," he mused aloud, lifting her hat from her head. "The game has only just begun."
Without giving her time to consider, he tossed her bonnet to the ground, angled his head and kissed her.
She froze, completely unprepared for the heady sensation of his lips moving against her own. His mouth was surprisingly warm and luxuriously soft; his kiss demanding and persuasive in ways that made gooseflesh pop out all over her skin in spite of the late summer heat.
On a quivering gulp, she forced herself to break away. "M-my lord, what are you doing?"
"I believe you asked me that once already," he remarked. Reaching up, he traced the curve of her ear with his thumb and forefinger. "I should think the answer is obvious."
Catching her earlobe between his fingers, he rubbed the nubbin of flesh in a circular motion, then bent to scatter kisses along the column of her neck. Her eyelids fluttered, her toes curling like petals inside her shoes.
"Y-yes, but I don't understand why," she said on a half-gasp. "You d-don't think of me that way."
"Do I not?" he said in a silky tone. "Are you sure?" Moving to her other side, he fanned a line of kisses over her throat.
"You see me … as a sister."
He stopped and lifted his head to meet her gaze. "I assure you, I do not." His arm tightened around her waist, yanking her flush against the long length of his body. "Now, I ask, does this feel at all brotherly to you?"
Locked hip to hip, she became aware of an insistent bulge pressing against the lower portion of her stomach, just slightly above the juncture of her thighs.
Is that him? she thought. Is that hard jut wedged against me-his sex? Mercy, surely he isn't aroused? For me?
Having never felt an erection before, even through the barrier of clothing, she wasn't certain. But a glance at the fixed set of his jaw and the intense gleam in his azure eyes made her realize she must be right.
"But I'm so plain and tall," she cried, unwilling to let herself believe that this man-this big, virile, gorgeous specimen of masculinity-could possibly want her. Her. Grace Danvers-unremarkable spinster-who had never so much as tempted a man to kiss her in all her twenty-five years. Not even Terrence had tried. Despite having asked her on repeated occasions to be his wife, he had never once attempted to take liberties.
Yet here was Jack Byron, sophisticated libertine and lady-killer-a man who could have any woman of his choosing no matter how beautiful or well-born-demonstrating his attraction for her.
"You don't want me," she whispered.
///
"Don't I?" He dropped a lingering kiss on her lips, then another on her cheek, and a third on her temple. "You continue to be mistaken in your estimation of my opinions, and in your own as well.
Her brows drew tight. "My own?"
"You are not plain," he told her, his words low and husky.
When she made a sound of disagreement, he hushed her. "You may not be beautiful in the traditional sense, but that doesn't mean you aren't lovely all the same. Uniquely lovely, with an inner radiance that far transcends what passes for pretty these days. Take your eyes, for example."
"My eyes?"
"Hmm. Have you ever noticed how they change color with your moods?"
She shook her head.
"Well, they do. When you're happy, they're a pure pristine blue, like twin brushstrokes of sky. And when you're displeased or lost in serious thought, they shift to grey. Silvery, sensual grey, the sort that ripples like dawn mist over a lake. I can think of no other woman with eyes like yours. Magnificent, soul-deep eyes in which a man could drown if he weren't careful."
He laid a hand against her face and touched his lips to hers. She quivered, blood throbbing in her temples, her skin turning hot beneath his touch.