The Redemption of a Rogue, стр. 44

Carlton glanced toward Imogen and back to him, and then cocked his head. “Of course. Woolgathering. I was only saying that I need to take care of one item of business before we end our tour. May I leave you here in the bird room and come back for you in a moment?”

“Of course,” Oscar said. “Imogen is so taken by the tableaus, I’m sure she’ll enjoy the extra moment here.”

Carlton arched a brow but said nothing else, and simply bowed from the room. It was the first time Oscar had been alone with her since the carriage ride, and he moved toward her like a magnet to iron, drawn helplessly to her.

“Oh Oscar, look at this beautiful bird,” she said, pointing to one of the main tableaus that filled the room. The birds were from all over the world and had been carefully preserved through highly skilled taxidermy and placed in detailed dioramas to add to their beauty and appeal.

In the one she pointed to now, a red-faced crimsonwing if the signage was correct, from the African continent, was balanced delicately on a piece of foliage, its little face turned toward the observer in curiosity.

“The red and green are startling,” she continued. “Almost like a holly bu—” She pivoted toward him, and he thought she would say more, but her eyes went wide and she cut herself off.

“What is it?” he asked, taken aback by her expression of what seemed to be shock.

“You…you are smiling,” she said, and she lifted her hands to his cheeks, her fingers caressing there gently.

He blinked. He hadn’t realized he was smiling, but indeed he was. He felt the expression on his face as he looked down at her.

“I told you I was capable,” he teased in an effort to reduce the power of this moment. But it didn’t work. It was undeniable what this meant—she saw it and he felt it.

“You’re smiling at…at me?” she asked.

He cleared his throat. He should step away from her, push off what was happening and pretend it meant nothing. But when her hands were on his cheeks and she was looking up at him in the same wonder she reserved for the natural beauty captured in this museum, it was impossible. She was undeniable, no matter how much he knew he should deny her and himself.

“I suppose,” he admitted slowly. “That seeing your…your pleasure and enthusiasm at the exhibitions makes it impossible not to be drawn in.”

Her expression softened slightly. “This was a wonderful surprise, Oscar. A perfect day, and I’ll never forget it, no matter how long I live.”

Her fingers brushed against his jawline, and in that moment he felt the smile she was so enthralled with fall slightly. When she touched him, it was impossible not to shift into something far more driven, far more needy. She inspired that as much as anything else.

He bent his head, and she lifted to him. They kissed in the middle of the exhibition hall in front of the staring birds, and it was like the first time. Her lips were soft beneath his, her fingers gripped against his shoulders as she made a soft sound in her throat that he knew all too well. He had lived to inspire that sound since he first took her to his bed. That raw expression of desire and pleasure.

He traced her lips with his tongue and she opened to him, but he didn’t delve too deeply. He didn’t surrender to everything he wanted. They didn’t have time, this wasn’t the place. But he needed to taste her as much as he needed food or water, so he did so gently. Time and location blurred as he held her closer and lost himself in all she was and all she made him be.

It was only the clearing of a throat at the door that made them part. Imogen ducked her head behind him as Carlton re-entered the room.

“Pardon me,” he said with a slight smile toward Oscar.

“Pardon us,” Oscar returned with a shrug for the other man.

Imogen was blushing dark red as she finally allowed herself to meet their host’s gaze. He was kind enough to say nothing else about what he’d interrupted and instead said, “I hope you enjoyed my collection, Mrs. Henderson.”

“I did,” she breathed. “Oh, it’s so entirely lovely and you were a wonderful guide. Thank you again for allowing us this private showing.”

“Many come through these halls and just wander through the rooms and look but never see what is right in front of them. You, on the other hand, seemed to treasure these items as much as I do, myself,” Carlton said. “And so you are welcome back any time. You may even bring your grumpy friend, but only if he can promise me a discount on my club membership in return.”

Oscar shook his head. “We’ll see.”

Carlton laughed and motioned them to follow, leading them back to the same back entrance they had come in hours before. “I had your carriage brought ’round while I tended to my other errand. Good evening, Fitzhugh.” The men shook hands, and then Carlton reached out to take Imogen’s hand. He lifted it to his lips and kissed the top gently. “Mrs. Henderson.”

She blushed again. “Good evening, Mr. Carlton. And thank you again.”

He waited until Oscar had handed Imogen up into the carriage to wave and go back inside the building. Oscar let out a sigh as he followed her in and settled in across from her. As the carriage began to move, she clasped her hands in front of herself. “That truly was a treat. Thank you again.”

“I was happy to do it. Sometimes being in my position has its benefits,” he said.

“Because you know Mr. Carlton from your club.” When he nodded, she smiled. “He was very kind.”

“He was very flirtatious,” Oscar corrected. “Surely you noted that.”

She shifted slightly. “He didn’t make me uncomfortable, though.”

“He’s a good man,” Oscar said, flexing his hands