He looked over his shoulder, squinting at his sister. Shirley had her hands clamped over her mouth, her eyes wide, staring at him and absolutely trembling. Grayson pointed at her. "I'm going after that fool cat, and when I get back, you're explaining yourself."
He watched them, walking backward for several steps until he cleared the doorway into the short hall leading to the rooms at the front of the cottage. It wasn't until he turned to pursue his crazy feline that he heard the soft whispers of a feminine voice and his heart stilled.
"You're going to give me away," he heard whispered.
His still heart jumped, making up the lost beats in a thundering race against his ribs and Grayson took three long strides to the wide archway to the receiving room.
And he stopped. Staring. Unable but so willing to believe his eyes.
Crouched in the middle of the room, stroking the gray fur of his cat as Watson frantically tried to brush against her in every possible way at once, was Kipling Branson. Her head turned down, he still knew it was her without question. Long beautiful chestnut hair fell around her shoulders in smooth waves, caressing her bare arms revealed by the yellow sundress she wore.
Grayson sucked in a sharp breath and managed to say, "Kipling…"
She raised her head, her beautiful lips bowed in a smile that made his chest tighten. He couldn't help the quick observations he just as quickly pushed aside. She had lost weight, probably a stone, and it showed in her face. Her eyes were shadowed slightly, and fatigue drew her features. Perhaps fatigue from travel. He didn't care. She was beautiful. So beautiful it stole his breath.
Slowly, she rose to stand, Watson still dancing around her feet. Grayson took a step forward, his only assurance she was not a mirage of the glints of secrecy in his sisters and mother's eyes moments before. Otherwise, he might have thought Kipling a hallucination.
"Hi," she said softly, as if it had not been weeks since he'd seen her. "Are you pleased?"
He crossed the small room in two strides, reaching for her before the space was closed. Grayson took her face in his hands and sucked in a sharp breath before covering her open mouth with his own, diving without hesitation or restraint into a kiss he'd wanted and needed for weeks. Kipling's soft moan against his lips was petrol on open flames.
He was lost. Utterly lost.
){kind=link}