Quince - The Five Second Rule For Kissing: The Northumberland Nine Series

J osette Marsden had a singular talent.

She could walk about, a novel held eye level, and read without bumping into a single thing. It helped a great deal that her world consisted of the same small house she was born in, the lane leading to Selbourne Castle, and Selbourne Castle itself, a great medieval monstrosity that sat upon the bluffs in Northumberland.

Her physical body had never needed more space than that.

Because in her mindher greatest assetshe could go anywhere, as long as she had a book.

And this day would be no different. Shed spent her first night at Selbourne Castle, the first of fourteen during a house party in which the new duchess, Violet, would throw she and her eight sisters at nine gentlemen in hopes one of them would stick.

Josie had no intention of sticking. Good God, she had eight sisters. The odds were favorable one of them could find a match. But still, the reason for the party was patently ridiculous, and Josie had no intention of being thrown, paraded, flaunted in front of anyone, let alone the London rakes inhabiting this castle, all friends of the Duke of Selbourne, or Weirick as shed known him all her life.

She pulled on her blue spencer to ward off the ever-present castle chill and picked up her book. She could finish this last chapter on the way to the breakfast room and pass the library to select another book.

She opened her door and stepped into the hall and then opened her book. The crackle of the spine was music to her ears, a sign of repeated readings, of hours spent in pure enjoyment.

She sighed with pleasure.

She opened right to the last page shed left last night and began to read, her feet moving in the direction of the stairs. She successfully navigated one flight and turned down the side hall that would lead her to the library, a two-floor kingdom of wonder she wished she could make her home in.

She used one hand to open the door that opened to the balcony shelves, which happened to be her favorite area of the castle. Wall to wall books, a quaint little seating area in the east corner with just enough room for a chaise lounge and a side table with a lovely round stained-glass window for light. The window was of a seagull soaring over the ocean and the blues and creams of the glass lit up the little corner like a piece of heaven. The decorative iron railing of the balcony crowned the lower floor with elegant swirls and loops. The main floor of the library had two large tables and a seating area to invite many people to congregate there, but the little corner up here, private, quiet, and washed in dreamy light was Josies personal paradise.

She breathed in as she entered, the aroma of linseed oil, a hint of smokiness from the hearth below, and the best scent of all, books, filling her nose. She closed her eyes briefly and let out a throaty sigh.

Her book smashed into her face as she ran into a clothed wall.

A very male grunt preceded a waterfall of books.

Josie stumbled back, blinded. She was grabbed by her arms and hauled against a hard body. Her breath rushed from her lungs, but that wasnt the worst of it.

The world tilted. She had no bearing on her balance and neither did her erroneous savior. They toppled to the floor, the corners of books making a terrible bed. He landed on top of her with another grunt.

And still worse, her arms were trapped under him and her book was still pressed to her face, squishing the tip of her nose painfully.

She froze, unable to breathe or move as his weight pinned her. But she was startlingly aware of the hardness of his form, how the muscular planes of his body fit against her curves intimately. Prickly heat washed over her skin, from the roots of her hair to her toes. Her heart thrashed around like a bird caught in a sheet hung out to dry.

He lifted onto his elbows and Josie peeled the book off her face, her brown eyes locking with startling blue, deeper than a cloudless sky.

She gulped. Lord Selhorst?

Miss Marsden, my apologies.

His weight was free of her chest, but she still couldnt draw a full breath. His eyes were magnetic, and she felt as though she was sinking into themridiculous, given that they were above her.

She didnt like it one bit.

Please remove yourself. She squirmed her legs, the only parts she could move.

He lifted off her, but every place he put his hand was on a book. It would slide out from under him, and hed crash down on her again.

Each time, she lost her breath but not from the force.

Each time she could feel him, her body reacted strangely, heat spilling through her, a thread of tension tightening like piano wire being tuned until her body hummed with strange music.

Im mostgruntsorry, I cant

Josie couldnt bear it anymore, she brought up her knee to leverage herself and slide out but he came down again, her knee striking possibly the only soft place on his body.

He grunted again, this one more painful than surprised. He rolled off her, curling in agony.

Oh. Blast it.

She knew where shed struck him. Lord Chester, their neighbor and also a childhood companion had taught her and her sisters where to attack a mans person should he ever forget himself.

She grimaced, patting his shoulder. Im sorry, really. It was not intentional.

He nodded, his face red, the veins in his forehead popping out as he took slow breaths. Im fine. He gasped.

You dont look fine.

He sat up, leaning his forearms on his knees and bowing his head. I just need a moment.

Josie scooted back, picking up books from the floor. She turned her back to him and rubbed her sore nose.

She glanced at the titles, The Sexual Grimoire, Tales of Erotic Torture, A Primer to Personal Pleasure. She frowned at the last one.

What the devil is he reading?

Are you hurt? he asked from behind her.

No, she said absently.

She picked up another book. This one small, bound in blue leather, the title embossed in silver flake.

Soul Kissing.

She blushed, but she was also intrigued so she slipped the little book into her pocket.