by Gill, Tamara
"Beautiful, isn't it?" she said, swiping at her cheek and yet not embarrassed by the fact she was emotional before Hugh. One could not look at such art and not be moved, to be indifferent to what adorned the walls could only mean the person had no soul.
"I quite agree," he whispered.
Molly glanced at Hugh and found him staring at her, his eyes heavy with an emotion she did not recognize. She tore her gaze away, calming her racing heart. This was not the place for her to throw herself at him. They were friends, he did not mean anything by his words, merely that the paintings were beautiful. Not that she was.
She stepped forward, taking in the images of the popes drawn on a higher level of the room, of the arched windows and floor that was some sort of mosaic of a circular pattern, seemingly more modern than the historical room and paintings that stood within.
They studied the paintings for some time, a guide coming over to them and telling them a little of the painting's meanings, of how long it took Michelangelo to paint the room.
Several hours passed before they exited St. Peter's Basilica, their carriage waiting patiently outside The Square. "Are you pleased that you traveled thousands of miles to see Rome and all of this?" Hugh asked, pulling her close to his side as they strode across The Square.
Molly breathed deep, feeling at home in this city, this country. Although she had friends that she adored and loved in England, they were all married now, on paths of their own. Her family no longer circulated in town, not after what happened to her cousin. Even though they never circulated in the sphere in which her friends now enjoyed, it still allowed Molly to have her family in London and not be isolated.
She was alone quite a lot now that Evie had married and moved out of the townhouse they once shared with Willow.
Molly pulled Hugh to a stop. He glanced down at her, a small frown line between his brow marring his perfect visage. This close, she could admire his long obsidian eyelashes, the slight shadow of stubble across his cheeks and jaw. An ache thrummed deep in her belly, and for the first time in her life, she acted upon her feelings.
Her fingers slid up behind the lapels on his coat. She clasped them tight, pulling Hugh close before leaning up and kissing him in the middle of St. Peter's Square.
Molly ignored the gasps from those passing them by and viewing their public display of affection, but she did not stop. His lips were as soft as silk just as she imagined them to be. His arms wrapped about her waist, pulling her close, and he deepened the kiss. taking her mouth in a kiss like she'd never imagined before. His tongue slipped into her mouth, and she gasped, having not expected such intimacy when she'd started this foray into passion.
The sensation was unlike anything she'd ever experienced, but she liked it. Liked having him kiss her with abandon and without care of who saw them. They were in Rome, after all. The eternal city that had seen millions of love affairs just like the one she was embarking on.
Molly held on to his shoulders, mimicking him as much as she could. Her first kiss was all heat and deliciousness, and she couldn't get enough. She never wanted to stop kissing him.
He reached up, clasping her face with his hands. He tipped her head a little, and the world stopped spinning. At this angle, somehow, he made her open to him like a flower, blooming from his warmth. Before she knew what she was about, she slid her tongue against his, marveling at the friction.
Hugh moaned, his hands spiking into her hair as he wrenched her closer. His body, hard against hers, made her breath hitch, her most private of places ache. Their kiss turned desperate. Distantly, as if a million miles away, she could feel her hair unraveling under his onslaught. She cared little. All she heeded was this sweet, kind, virile, handsome man who was kissing her within an inch of her life.
The sound of a gentleman clearing his throat nearby impinged on their kiss, and Hugh pulled back, staring at her as if he didn't know who it was in his arms. Molly refused to glance about to see who was watching, judging them. They could all go to hades as far as she was concerned.
"That was…" he said, his words breathless against her lips.
"It was, wasn't it?" She grinned and stepped out of his hold. Molly took his hand and started toward the carriage. Her hair fell about her shoulders, and she didn't try to fix it before they made the carriage. There was little point. Half her pins were scattered about St. Peter's Square, after all.
Along with her reputation should anyone have recognized her.
* * *
Hugh helped Molly up into the carriage and followed her inside, slamming the door behind him to mask his shaking hands. Damn it all to hell. What had just happened? Never in his life had he ever acted in such a scandalous way. And in St. Peter's Square to boot. The Pope would disapprove should he have seen such a public kiss between two people not even married.
What had he been thinking?
As to that, not a lot. Nothing at all except how perfect Molly felt in his arms. How her sweet, soft lips felt pressed up against his and how much he wanted to feel them again.
Right now.
He pulled the blinds down in the carriage, giving them privacy. "You kissed me, Molly. Does that mean you want to kiss me again?"
Her eyes flew wide with alarm, and he grinned, marveling at how she could kiss him with such sweet abandon and then be shocked when asked about it. How adorable was this woman and how much would he miss her when she left?
"I like you," she stated, matter-of-fact, her hands clasped tight in her lap. "I never kissed a man before, you see, and after the wonderful day we've just had, well…" She paused, glancing at something in her lap, those sweet lips she'd just kissed him with clasped tight between her teeth, driving him to distraction. He gripped the seat, forcing himself to remain where he was and not move. Not molest her again in the carriage this time when there was no one to stop them.
"Well," she continued. "I decided that I wanted it to be you whom I kissed. You're probably going to be the only man I ever kiss, and so I took what I wanted. I do apologize if I shocked or offended you."
Hugh chuckled, leaning back in the squabs. She met his gaze, and he hoped she could read in his eyes that he was far from offended. Aroused, intrigued…yes. But offended? Hell no.
"Let me tell you, Molly, that you have my permission to kiss me whenever you desire. I've not been with a woman for some time, and your company these last few days has been a sweet elixir to my soul. A stolen kiss or two will hurt no one, especially me."
Her cheeks bloomed into a pretty rose hue, and he shifted to sit beside her, reaching up to brush her hair back behind her ear. "I'm glad you kissed me because I've wanted to kiss you from the moment I saw you in my atrium, in your pretty blue gown and excited about seeing Rome for the first time."
"Really?" A smile blossomed on her lips, and he couldn't help but grin back. "So I can kiss you whenever I like?"
He nodded. "I wouldn't be a gentleman if I did not suggest that if we're to kiss again that it should be in private. Perhaps St. Peter's Square is not the best location, but a carriage with the blinds drawn, well, no one will see us here."
"That is true." Molly glanced about the coach, her inspection taking in the lowered blinds. "I want to kiss you again. Am I not scandalous?"
"A little," he teased. "But so am I, so we're a good match." Hugh didn't wait for her to initiate the kiss this time. Instead, he seized her sweet face and kissed her, deep and sure. Their tongues tangled, heat licking his skin, his cock aching for her touch. He'd not reacted to a woman in such a way ever in his life. He wanted to make her crave him as much as he feared he would covet her when she left.
Her arms tangled about his neck, her breasts, full and heavy, sat against his chest. His hands itched to clasp a handful of the voluptuous flesh. To tease and pinch her nipples, he was certain would be puckered little knobs inside her dress.
The thought of licking, kissing her there, sent a bolt of desire to his cock. "You're so sweet. I cannot get enough of you," he gasped a
gainst her lips.
She stared back at him, her eyes cloudy with desire, her lips swollen from his touch. "And I, you."
Hugh took her lips again, hoisting her up against his person. Her stomach sat against his engorged cock. He wasn't sure what she would think of him, or his reaction to her, but when she undulated against him, sliding her sweet body to tease his, the world’s axis tipped.
It took all his self-control not to slide his hand down her back, clasp a nice handful of her ass and grind against her. She moved closer still, pushing him back against the window, her untutored kiss before becoming more proficient with each passing moment. Molly was a quick learner. If he weren't careful, she would undo him in the carriage like a green lad who'd never touched a woman before.
The carriage rocked to a halt, and with a jerk, he sat them up. "We're home." The word home reverberated about in his mind. The Roman villa was certainly his home, but he liked having Molly under its roof and being part of his life. To take someone about, a little slice of home that he vowed not to miss, soothed the beast that roared inside that hated what his family had done. Having Molly here reminded him of everything that he'd lost because of them. The possibility of a future. A wife as passionate and sweet as his houseguest was. Perhaps even Molly herself.
She sat up, adjusting her gown and addressing her hair as best as she could before the door opened, and Marcus set down the steps for them.
Hugh jumped down, turning about to help her alight. Her fingers enclosed within his and a bolt of awareness shot up his arm. He took a calming breath, pushing down the ache in his chest at the realization that she would be leaving in only a few short weeks. He wasn't so certain that he wanted her to leave at all.
If he could, he'd keep her for himself. Forever.
Chapter 6
The following day Molly toured the markets of Piazza Navona with Miss Sinclair, along with Hugh's manservant escorting her since Hugh had to address some missives from England that had arrived the day before when they were at the Vatican.
Molly picked up some flowers from one of the stalls and a collection of gifts that she would take back to England for her friends. One vendor was selling little porcelain statues of famous gladiators of ancient Rome. Hallie would love these, especially since she was so very fond of history.
They strolled the markets for some time, breaking their fast at a stall that sold bread and dried meats. Molly had never eaten in public like this before, and it was a marvel, a liberating feeling. She could get used to being a Roman citizen, especially if she were fortunate enough to return home to the villa and see Hugh each day.
The thought of him sent her stomach to catapult into a thousand circles. After their kiss in St. Peter's Square and then in the carriage on the way home, she had thought they would dine and spend time with each other for the evening, but Hugh had received a mountain of letters that even this morning was taking up his time. Stopping him from accompanying her today.
They made their way back to the carriage, Marcus carrying her parcels for her. Miss Sinclair had seemed to have a change of heart regarding the city and travel. She was all smiles and compliments on their outing. Marcus was a positive influence on her.
As she waited for the parcels to be hitched, her mind turned to Hugh. What was the business that was so very important that he'd been unavailable last evening and today? Perhaps he still had business dealings in London that needed taking care of. She had been monopolizing his time somewhat since he'd offered to take her about Rome. It was only expected that he would have to decline and stay home to complete his work some days.
Molly climbed up in the carriage, nodding to Miss Sinclair as she pulled off her bonnet, wiping her brow with her lace handkerchief. "What an enjoyable morning. However, I fear a megrim is settling in."
"If you're feeling poorly, I'll have Maria bring up a tisane for you. Will you be dining with the servants, or would you prefer to dine in your room?"
"I should not leave you alone with Mr. Armstrong as much as I have, Miss Clare. My duty is to keep you safe. It is already terribly scandalous that we're staying under his roof with him in residence. I just hope the news does not beat us back to London. Your reputation will be ruined."
Molly glanced out the window, grinning at Miss Sinclair's words. Her reputation was already ruined had anyone seen their kiss yesterday in the square and recognized them. She could not regret it, however. Her first kiss had been given freely to Mr. Armstrong, and from the moment he'd kissed her back, she knew that her bold actions had been the right thing to do.
"We know so very little about him, Miss Clare. I would hate to have your reputation ruined by not doing my duty as your chaperone."
"I'm eight and twenty, Miss Sinclair. No one cares what I do or how I go about. You forget what it was like for me in London. Other than my friends, no one cared about me at all. I was not titled nor rich, practically invisible."
"I do not think your parents would agree, Miss Clare. Think of your cousin. She was lured in by a pretty face and false promises. I do not want to see the same happen to you, and God knows, Mr. Armstrong has a face akin to wickedness. What a handsome man, and one who knows how to use such looks, I'm sure, when the need arises."
Molly chuckled, unable to disagree with her companion's summations. "A pretty face will not fool me, but even so, Mr. Armstrong is a gentleman and has been very kind to me. But I promise you, Miss Sinclair, that I shall not do anything that will harm my family or myself. I will not make the same mistake as Laura."
"He promised her marriage, Miss Clare. She thought herself in love."
"I know what Laura thought." Molly knew firsthand what her cousin had been promised, and the heartache her friend had gone through before her son's birth. The death of them both only a few days later had left the family scarred and cautious.
Lord Farley, the Duke of St. Albans's younger brother, was a fiend who did not deserve to breathe as far as Molly was concerned. If only she could tell the prig to his face that she hated him, that what he'd done had ruined her friend and her future.
Had caused irreparable damage to the family that they struggled to this day to live with.
Molly wasn't naïve enough not to know Laura too was at fault, she had allowed things to go too far between them before they were married, but still, when one falls in love, she could see how very difficult it would be to deny oneself what one desired.
Just as she now desired Mr. Armstrong above anyone else. He could be her downfall, the man who made her want to throw all caution aside and simply live, love, and play to her heart's content.
As much as she did not understand her cousin’s emotions or what made her do the things she had done with Lord Farley, she could understand them now. After kissing Hugh, she could understand the desires of the heart were sometimes too great to resist.
The carriage rocked to a halt before the villa, and Miss Sinclair continued to look displeased with her. "He's taken a fancy to you. The staff can see it as plain as day, and so can I. He's a man, his risk is nothing to yours. Please keep your head about yourself when with him. That is all I ask."
Molly reached across the seat and clasped Miss Sinclair's hand. Her anxiety on Molly's behalf doing her character and position justice. "Mr. Armstrong's attentions will not injure me, I promise. He's an honorable man. I may be a little long in the tooth, but I think he's genuine. He'll not play with my heart unless he intends to keep it for himself. There is hope yet, Miss Sinclair that I may have found my match."
Molly smiled and turned to alight from the vehicle. The villa door stood ajar, and inside the home's walls stood Hugh, waiting for her in the afternoon sun. His shirt was free from his tan breeches, the arms rolled up about his elbows and showing off his golden-hue skin and muscular forearms.
Butterflies took flight in her stomach, and she stifled a sigh of delight at the sight of him. How could a man that she'd only known a few days be so consuming? Make her feel like a green girl experiencing her fir
st Season and being courted by London's most handsome man.
She walked up to him, unable to stop the smile that formed on her lips. "Good afternoon, Mr. Armstrong. I hope you had a productive day as you'd hoped."
He guided her over to a part of the garden that housed a small marble alcove and bench. Vines grew above the seat, giving the occupants privacy. Molly sat, pulling her shawl about her shoulders as the temperature in the hidden niche was cooler than in the courtyard.
"I was able to finish what needed attending, but I could not concentrate."
"Really?" Molly frowned up at him. He sat beside her, the side of his leg touching hers. Her skin prickled in awareness, and she took a calming breath, needing to control herself and her reactions to him. He did not need to know that she liked him perhaps more than she ought to like a man she hardly knew. "Why could you not concentrate?"
He reached out, sliding his thumb across her bottom lip, and she leaned into him, wanting more of his touch. To have his thumb replaced with his lips. "I could not concentrate because I knew you were walking about Rome without me. I fear that you can never return to London as I'll miss you too much."
His sweet words made a pang of regret and panic take flight inside her. She could not stay, not unless he offered marriage, but she was unsure if he asked whether she could live so far away from her friends and family. Even with the intoxicating, consuming man that was slowly taking her heart and making it his.
"You tease," she said, making light of his words and not wanting to face just what they did mean, what they could imply for both of them.
He shook his head, closing the space between them. "No, I'm not. I've never been more honest."
The moment his lips touched hers, Molly was lost. She gave herself to his kiss that turned demanding and wicked, and unlike the other kisses they'd shared so far. This one took her breath away. His hand spiked into her hair, making her gasp. The moment she did, he took advantage and thrust his tongue against hers, pulling her into a world of desire, needs, and wants.