She stiffened, her face flooding with color. “What do you mean ‘not like that’?”

“Apparently I’ve been remiss in my duties as your fiancé.”

“Duties? Kissing me is a duty?”

“Not at all. I enjoy kissing you. And you, my little wren, love every moment. Or you did until I suggested there was a better way to do it.”

She opened her mouth as if to berate him, then stopped, rampant curiosity on her face. “What other way is there?”

He pulled her toward him, then cupped her chin and tilted her face to his. “First, don’t hold your lips so tightly together.”

She eyed him for a long, serious moment. He could almost hear the rumble of her weighty thoughts. Finally, she said, “I suppose one kiss wouldn’t hurt.”

He bent and softly placed his lips on hers. She stood stock-still beneath his touch, the heat from her lips warming his, the scent of lemons and hay drifting over him. She was as sweet as a summer breeze, as seductive as a harvest moon. And she didn’t realize it at all.

Chase brushed his lips over hers, nipping at her soft, plump lips. Again and again, he tasted and teased, each time opening her lips a little more. She remained where she was, face upturned, eyes closed. Chase captured her mouth beneath his, sliding his tongue across her bottom lip.

She started and almost pulled back, but he held her and did it again, tasting her more deeply, more intimately. This time, something changed. She melted beneath his touch, opened herself to him naturally as she threw her arms about his neck and pressed her slender body to his.

Chase’s body reacted instantly, tightening with a flood of passion. Her mouth opened beneath his, and to his delight, her tongue touched his.

By God, but for all her purity she was as hot as any fancy piece—more so because her reaction was as natural as breathing. It was as if her quiet, pale demeanor hid a pulsing heart that beat so wildly that none would ever credit it.

He could not turn away. Indeed, his hands gripped her arms beneath the edge of her sleeves, his fingers splayed over her heated skin. She moaned into his mouth, the sound so erotic that he pressed against her, rubbing his hips across hers.

Somewhere far away, Max barked in abandon, the sound penetrating Chase’s heated thoughts. If he didn’t have a care, he might lift her skirts and take her there, in front of God and country.

Breathing erratically, he broke the kiss and lifted his head, catching Harriet’s bemused gaze. Sometime or another, both of them had lost their hats. Harriet’s hair had come unpinned, and long thick strands hung down her back and to either side of her face, softening the angular corners.

It was curious, but with her hair loosened, she looked more vibrant, more sensual. Without realizing that he did so, Chase touched her hair, the silken strands clinging to his hands.