Turning in a slow circle, he took in his surroundings. Pale yellow silk covered the walls, which were decorated with gilt-framed watercolors of various plants and flowers. He suspected they were the work of her sister Sarah, who he knew possessed a great talent for such drawings, and upon closer inspection of one noted her signature in the corner.
A floor-to-ceiling bookcase was flanked by tall, dark green velvet draped windows through which skeins of sunshine slanted. A dainty reading and writing table sat in the corner near the window, positioned to perfectly capture the light. In the other corner was a Recamier couch, its rounded contours upholstered in a soft yellow and green stripe. His gaze fell upon a slender silver vase on an inlaid table next to it. The vase held a single flower-one of the blush pink roses from his conservatory. Surely that was a good sign.
A pair of overstuffed wing chairs set before the white marble fireplace in which a fire burned provided a cozy seating area. A large, ornately carved mirror hung above the mantel, upon which an unusual collection of small porcelain birds flocked. Combined with the moss green carpet decorated with pale pink cabbage roses, he felt as if he stood in the midst of an enchanted indoor garden. He breathed deeply and caught a hint of the subtle floral fragrance she wore. A Carolyn-scented indoor garden.
Carolyn… bloody hell, she hadn't been out of his thoughts for so much as a second since he'd left her last night. Since you left her last night? his inner voice echoed in an incredulous tone. She hasn't been out of your thoughts for an instant for a lot longer than that.
He tipped his head back and closed his eyes. Oh, all right, fine. She'd haunted his thoughts a hell of a lot longer, which was uncharacteristic of him. As was the way he'd lost control last night when he'd kissed her. Damn it, he never lost control like that. And as the result of a mere kiss? Unheard of.
Last night wasn't the first time you lost control with her, his inner voice reminded him slyly.
Oh, bloody well all right, fine. But he certainly wouldn't behave like that today. He had the afternoon carefully planned. Today was for getting to know more about her-an enjoyable outing followed by a leisurely seduction. He wouldn't rush her, and he certainly wouldn't pounce upon her like a green lad with no command over his passions.
He heard the door open and turned, a greeting upon his lips, which evaporated, along with his ability to speak, at the sight of her leaning against the oak panel.
Her honey-colored hair was loose, a shiny curtain that fell over her shoulders, the curling ends brushing her hips. And she wore… bloody hell, she wore an ivory satin robe, tied at the waist. And based on the way the material clung to her curves and outlined her pert nipples, that's all she wore. His stupefied stare wandered all the way down to her bare feet, then back up again, where he encountered her gaze, one that simmered with such sensual heat he felt as if his breeches had been lit on fire.
"Hello, Daniel," she said in a warm, sultry tone. He was about to open his mouth to reply, only to discover that at some point his jaw must have dropped because his mouth was already open. If he'd been able to tear his eyeballs away from her, he would have looked on the floor to see if his jaw had fallen to his feet.
She reached behind her and the click of the lock turning reverberated through the quiet room. The only sounds were the crackle of the fire and his own labored breathing. If he'd ever in his life seen anything more arousing than Carolyn in that robe, looking at him as if she wanted to toss him onto the nearest couch and have her wicked way with him, he couldn't recall what that thing might be.
Again he tried to speak, but again she robbed him of the ability when she pushed off from the door and moved toward him with a sway of her hips that could only be described as sinful. He was helpless to stop his body's swift reaction, and he inwardly shook his head. Hard as a damn brick and she hadn't even touched him. She halted when an arm's length separated them, and if he'd been capable of moving, he surely would have snatched her against him.
"I believe I was the last one who spoke," she said, sounding faintly amused.
He had to swallow twice to locate his voice. "No doubt because you've rendered me speechless. You look so… so…" Once again his gaze skimmed down her form and a groan rose in his throat. "Like a wicked angel."
"You sent me some lovely gifts this morning."
"If this is your way of thanking me, I'll empty my conservatory of flowers every day."
Mischief danced in her eyes. "I haven't even begun to thank you."
The aplomb she'd momentarily stolen returned-thank God, because she'd reduced him to a slack-jawed gawker-and he erased the distance between them in one step. Sliding his arms around her waist, he drew her closer, until they touched from chest to knee. He lowered his head until his lips hovered just above hers then asked, "What did you have in mind?"
"If I tell you, it will ruin the surprise." She entwined her arms around his neck and rose up on her toes to brush her mouth against his.
A shudder ran through him, and it required every ounce of his strength not to simply back her up against the wall and drive himself into her. Bloody hell, the way she repeatedly stripped him of his mastery over himself, reduced him to such a state and so damn quickly completely unsettled him. Although there was no denying that this playful, seductive side of her delighted as well as surprised him.
Yet even as it did delight him, he couldn't help but wonder if she was truly thinking about him, seeing him-or if he were simply a stand-in for Edward.
A spurt of unreasonable jealousy rippled through him at the thought of her thinking about Edward while she kissed him. Then he shot himself an inward frown. Bloody ridiculous to be jealous of a dead man. He didn't want her heart and soul. Only her body. And clearly he was going to have his wish. He couldn't ask for anything more. He didn't care if she pictured Edward in her mind.
Did he?
No, of course not.
He lifted his head and wondered if something of his thoughts showed on his face because a small frown creased her brow. Leaning back in the circle of his arms, she asked, "Are you displeased?"
His gaze lingered on the generous curve of her breasts pressed against him. "Hardly. In fact, I'd be willing to wager that I am currently the most pleased man in the entire kingdom."
"Excellent." She stepped back and his hands fell to his sides. He locked his knees to keep himself in place. As much as he wanted to drag her to the floor, strip off that robe, and touch and taste every inch of her skin, he also very much wanted to see what she would do next.
He didn't have long to wait.
His gaze dropped to her waist, where her fingers played with her robe's knotted sash. "Your plans for us this afternoon-were they urgent?" she asked.
"Nothing that can't wait."
"Do you like my robe?"
"Very much."
"Would you like me to take it off?"
His gaze lifted to hers. Only more than I want to draw my next breath. "Very much."
Mischief glittered in her eyes and she nibbled on her bottom lip. "The only problem is I'll be… naked."