Read A Fool Again for Free Online Page A

exactly two seconds to get from the door to her side, and when those greeny-gray eyes smiled at him, he was lost. Her whole face lit up with interest, with pleasure, with desire. He might have been young, but he had never been stupid.
    Three hours later they were creeping out her father’s door with all of his and Giles’s money in his pocket....An hour after that they were tooling down the road in a hired coach....Six hours after that, her father caught them. But in between...
    Well, he’d had years to think about what had happened during those six hours.
    It was hard to believe that he’d found Genevieve again. She was standing near a bank of snow-white honeysuckle that hung luminous in the moonlight. Obviously, she wouldn’t want to dash off to Gretna Green with him again. She considered herself in love with Felton. And that bastard Felton was apparently so sure of her that he didn’t mind sending her home with a rival. But she had kissed him in the carriage. She was pretending that episode never happened, but every sinew in his body was assuring him that it had.
    â€œYour hair is still extraordinary,” he said, reaching out to touch it. Long curling strands lay down her back, all the shades from brown to gold, as if rocks were spun with gold.
    She turned around, a bunch of honeysuckle caught to her face. “This garden is worth the whole house!” she cried, ignoring his compliment. She never had been very interested in flattery, he remembered that.
    â€œDid you know how honeysuckle gets its name?” he asked.
    â€œI don’t,” she said, eyes alive with interest.
    He plucked off one blossom and stepped even closer. “Because the blossoms taste sweet,” he said, brushing the frail white petals against her mouth.
    She frowned. “Very funny. It’s just a flower. No one eats flowers.”
    He turned the blossom around and showed her the narrow point. “Taste this, Genevieve.”
    â€œI wish you would stop addressing me so informally!” she snapped, clearly curious but disliking the intimacy.
    Tobias ran the slender point of the flower over the line of her lips. “Taste,” he said. His voice was as husky and dark as the gray-blue sky around them.
    â€œI don’t nibble on flowers!” she said obstinately, pushing his arm away.
    â€œYou do it like this.” He put the point of the flower between his lips, and a drop of sweet fluid fell into his mouth. “Here, taste.” He put a large hand at the back of all that glorious hair and pulled her toward him. “Taste.” His mouth covered hers and then opened, inviting a taste, and she—oh, his Genevieve would never resist such a gift—her tongue slipped into his mouth with a tiny gasp. The sweet of the flower was gone, but the sweet of Genevieve’s mouth could keep him exploring all night. The honeysuckle fell between their bodies, crushed between his chest and hers when her hands rose to his hair and pulled him closer.
    Desire ran through his veins like thick honey, like the heady smell of crushed flowers. He cupped her face in his and kissed her relentlessly, asking silently, deeply, a question he had no right to ask.
    But Genevieve’s head was spinning, and she’d stopped thinking again. There was only Tobias and the taste of his mouth, and the feeling of his hands shaping her face, delicately, sweetly, as if she were precious, at the very same time that his mouth ravaged hers. His body was so large and warm: She could feel every ridge of muscle through the silk of her gown, and there were—there were several ridges to enjoy. It was all rather dim, her knowledge of kissing, since it was based on six brief hours, years ago. But it was coming back to her: the hardness of Tobias’s body, the way he almost growled in his throat, the way—yes, the way he had scooped her up in his arms, and now he would put her down on the carriage seat. Except