He remembered the first favour she had asked of him. He remembered it as well as if it were happening in that instant.
She stopped beside him, her hair tumbling from her knot after a day of travel.
His brow quirked up. His concentration increased, raising his awareness to new heights.
He reached out, taking her hand. He must let her know his refusal of her body had nothing to do with lack of desire.
He braced himself, making sure he had the strength to deny her if she asked for more pleasures. Oh, he would give them to her so easily. So well. He could help her explore her passions and their bodies together. But he could not let her know that. He could not. She lured him without effort. Her smallest movement captured him.
‘I wanted to speak with you again and thank you for the kindness you have shown me,’ Vivian said.
She’d moved so close to him that the lavender scent of her enclosed them both.
He reached up to touch her chin and saw a change as her expression softened. So little space between them.
Their kisses remained in his memory. He moved closer, inhaling her femininity. Letting her essence surround him.
But he would retain control of himself. Well, the parts he hadn’t already lost control of.
‘Could you withdraw your proposal and let my father know?’ She ended the silence. ‘He keeps asking me about it.’
He released her chin. He could have imagined a thousand other questions he would have preferred her to ask. ‘Certainly. If that’s what you want.’
She touched his forearm and ran her hand down to his, took his fingertips and placed his hand back on her chin. ‘Yes. It’s what I want.’
Everleigh stopped the deluge of feelings that rampaged inside him. Mentally, he stepped aside, reining himself in.
Watching her, he came closer again, their breaths mingling. Featherlight, he brushed a kiss across her lips. ‘Consider it done.’
* * *
Vivian watched as notions flickered in Everleigh. She could see the process, but could not fathom what he thought.
‘Goodnight, Vivian.’
He left the library at a normal pace, seeming lost to her.
True, she didn’t want the proposal, but that didn’t mean she wanted him out of her life. They’d shared a kiss, a carriage ride and a gunshot together.
She paused. She had Mavis, her mother and her father for friendship. The same people she’d had all her life, with a few acquaintances scattered about. Talking with Everleigh had been different.
More like a friend to whom she could bare her soul.
Or maybe, not like a friend at all. More like a lover. An almost lover.
She walked from the room, seeing his back at the top of the stairs as she followed him up.
He paused at his bedroom door, awareness of her visible in his hesitation. She expected him to tell her to leave and she stopped.
He continued inside and didn’t close the door.
She moved forward, each footstep careful, precise and out of her control.
He stood, head down, arm outstretched and hand on the bedpost. But when she stopped inside the threshold, he observed her with blue flickering desire.
She wavered, aware of the stark furnishings. This room—she examined the fixtures—didn’t have a single bit of softness in it other than the bedcovers and they were so basic she wondered that the person sewing them hadn’t shaken her head over the utter plainness of them. A white towel lay folded by his shaving supplies.
Nothing sat on the fireplace except a flint and a striker. He had a boot stand and that, with the shaving kit, constituted the adornment except for side tables and two chairs. The lack of decoration made the room feel large and cold.
The room was definitely spacious in its austerity. Quite spacious compared to hers. Larger even than the library.
In two swift strides, he had his hands on her shoulders, holding her gently. His eyes—the colour intensified—were like stones under reflecting water. ‘You should not be here. Even you cannot put an innocent twist on being found in my room.’
His fingers left a burning trail as they moved to hold her face. ‘Why are you in my bedroom?’
‘I only meant for you to withdraw the marriage proposal. Not our acquaintance. I keep thinking about what you said. About teaching me. About how you would like to show me... I can’t remember the words, but I remember the gist of it and I am not ill now.’
‘That doesn’t make the idea a better one. It might make it worse.’
‘If I’m planning to remain a spinster...’ she said.
‘This is not the way to do it.’
He placed an arm around her and moved, intending to help her from the room.
She twirled out of his grasp. ‘I understand. The kisses...’
He stilled. ‘When I see you, Vivian, I always think of more than kisses.’
She grasped the doorknob and didn’t release it when she closed the door, remaining inside with him. ‘It always seems that I am the one approaching you.’
He caressed her shoulder, the fabric of her gown no barrier from the marvel of his fingers. He turned her, his lips hesitating at her cheek. His breath touched her. ‘Because I know the truth of it.’ His fingers tightened. ‘You tempt me, Vivian.’ He moved nearer.
Her emotions surged, relishing the contrast between her femininity and his masculinity.
He raised one hand, taking the side of her face, resting his thumb under her chin, and his lips descended.
She felt the kiss more than any touch she’d ever known. Cascading through her body, it removed her from conscious thought. When her knees dipped, he took his hand from her cheek and slipped his arm around her, securing her, snuggling her close. His lips pulled away, the brush of his irregular breaths heating her skin more than any flames.
‘I could not have just one taste of you and not want more.’ Desire infused his words.
‘But—’
‘You can lock the door, or leave.’
She didn’t move.
Slowly rotating away, he picked up the lamp from the bedside table. ‘I’ll see you to your room.’
She slid the bolt.
He remained near the bed. ‘Your reputation could be totally destroyed. Your father will not accept your decision to be my mistress. It is unthinkable. We would have no avenue to see each other regularly without people noticing and drawing their own conclusions. You will be ruined and the ramifications will be lasting.’
‘You’re right. You wouldn’t have to worry about harming your reputation. It would be overlooked with you, an earl’s son.’ She closed the distance between them. ‘I see your point of view. Through the perspective of society.’ Raising her gaze, she whispered, ‘Then I see you through my own eyes. I don’t want to leave. I can’t leave.’
He rested his thumb behind her earlobe, giving the tiniest tap to her pearl earring.
She felt the vibration run the length of her body to her toes.
‘I’ve been wanting to do that all night. For an eternity. They shine like starlight.’ He moved the lamp, causing the shadows in the room to dance when he sat it on the table.
‘There really is no true light in this house.’ She heard the strained sound of her words.
‘I would argue with that... You.’
‘Yet you do not want to make love to me.’
‘I don’t recall saying that.’ He contemplated her. ‘If I did, I shouldn’t have said such a ridiculous thing. I only am concerned for you.’
‘A few more seconds together, then?’
‘Vivian. In only a second, it could become too late to turn back.’
‘For me, that happened a long time ago.’
He pulled her tight, resting his forehead against hers.
She felt the scent of him touch her, all wool, and starch, and male. ‘I feel so desolate when I stand near you and you’re not holding me.’
‘Then I would like to nuzzle away that desolation, because it’s in me, also.’
‘I had no idea how alone I was. How cold I felt inside.’ She hadn’t, until he held her.
Everleigh’s face dipped close to hers. ‘I cannot bear the notion of your not being happy.’ His lips rested at her mouth. ‘I could warm you more... If you wish...’
‘Yes. I want you to make love to me.’
He slid both hands over her shoulders. ‘I want you. Of course I do. But...’
He loosened the knot of his cravat, moving ever so slightly, releasing the bond, letting the fabric glide across her fingertips as he removed it.
Taking one end of the material, he brushed it against her and the fibres didn’t feel like cloth any more, in the way a rainstorm in a desert didn’t feel like mere drops of liquid, but bursts of life. She caught it, gripping, and pulling him into a kiss.
He slipped his hands over her dress and his touch burned. She couldn’t feel the gown—just the heat of his touch.
‘A kiss isn’t about lips meeting. It’s about tasting.’ Everleigh bent his lips to hers.
When he stopped, his breath brushed her. ‘I want to touch you. But there is so much I cannot let you risk. I can’t.’
She moved, just enough, to catch his mouth with hers, but he tightened his grasp on the cravat and she glided forward, pulled by his backward steps.
When the bed stopped him, she released the cravat and he tossed it behind him. The soft sound of it falling on the bed more silent than her heartbeats.
He pulled her up, against him, dipping his head and taking her mouth, trapping her close. She felt him and his tongue.
Her body responded, more than it had for their previous kisses. She savoured the feelings plunging into her, pushing her forward. Enveloping her in him.
He didn’t taste like any food, or chocolate, or anything of normal nourishment. Instead he was all shimmering lights and male strength—a power stronger than she’d felt before.
She knew his hands could have crushed her against him. Instead of feeling confined by the strength wrapped around her, he made her feel more supple than she’d ever been. Every fibre swirled alive inside her. Her knees gave way. But it didn’t matter. He was not letting her go.
His lips were the only soft thing about him, but they were turning her body into something else—or someone else—because she didn’t have control of it any more. He did.
He pulled back. ‘I can’t make love to you because I don’t want you hurt. We can’t decide that now. I don’t want you rushed into a decision that you might regret.’
She opened her mouth and he captured her bottom lip, tasting, closing out everything in the world but what her senses could touch.
His kiss captured her, and blotted all the rest of the world from her thoughts. He pulled away, but kept her in his clasp. The embrace tightened. Running his lips down her neck, he continued, lifting her closer as his mouth caressed down to the top of her garment, leaving a moist trail burning behind.
He released her, letting her feet touch the floor.
‘The night has hardly started.’ His words enveloped the room. He slipped a finger under the lace at the shoulder of her dress. ‘Neither of us will be able to sleep easily if we part now. I will be thinking about your mouth. About my lips on your body, trailing along the softness of your skin. The curve of your... Beyond even that.’ He rested a hand on her hip, sending more heat into her than any bolt of lightning.
He took her wrist and put her palm to his mouth, pulling it slowly upwards, letting her feel the textures of him. The soft and the rough.
He lifted her elbow higher, until it was level with her face, and then he kissed the V of her arm. He moved, his lips again caressing hers, and his tongue darting inside, weakening her. He pulled away, his teeth grazing the skin he had just kissed.
Then he stopped.
Everything seemed to stop. Everything in the world.
Except the hooks on the back of her gown. They opened so easily.
Gently, he released the cloth from her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet.
He stopped, standing back, gazing at her. ‘You’re beautiful.’
As he removed his boots, one upward glance engulfed her with passion.
* * *
Vivian watched as Everleigh stepped behind her and her body pulsed when he found the ties of her corset, loosening them, releasing them. The garment slid from over her chemise, dropping away.
Their kisses mingled, while he reached to the small ties at the top of her chemise. He loosened them and swept the fabric aside, feeling the breast beneath it. Caressing the tip.
The woven fabric slid the rest of the way down her body. The fibres brushed her like silk and fell to the floor.
With his left arm, he pulled her closer, then removed his waistcoat and dropped it to the side. Within a second, his shirt went over his head and he continued their kisses. He never released her waist while he checked her reaction as he removed his trousers.
She wasn’t shocked, and let him know with her eyes.
He sat on the bed, pulling her astride him, but not moving into her, and running his fingers up her back. They melded together, her breasts pushed into his chest, and her body burned with intensity. She savoured his taste, essence and absorbed all of him with her senses.
Then he lifted her so that she lay on the bed.
Taking her mouth as if it were the last breath he would ever have, and the one that would sustain him for the rest of his life, he kissed her.
He caressed her breasts, her waist, tightened her hips against him and slid his fingers down to the V of her leg, caressing, while he intertwined one leg over hers.
For Vivian, the sensation of muscle, and the brush of the fine hairs on his leg, contrasted with the liquid feelings inside her.
When she found her pleasure, she gasped, a thousand rainbows alighting around her.
She became aware again as he whispered her name.
* * *
He bit the inside of his lip, forcing himself to lie still, surprised at how much her release had pleased him and satisfied him.
Almost.
But not quite.
Vivian lay beside him, silent, the gasps fading.
She rolled to him. He moved forward, one finger combing her hair so he could see her better, before he nestled her in the curve of his arm.
She locked herself around him. The bedcovers rustled as he extricated them enough to burrow them together.
‘It’s a quiet night,’ she said.
The night was silent. His conscience wasn’t smug, or congratulating him on his strength, but it wasn’t flagellating him either.
A shared interlude. Little more than an instant in either of their lives and yet it wasn’t. A man could not lay naked in Vivian’s arms and not feel something had changed in him and he knew she could not sweep this away as if it never happened.
He shouldn’t have touched her.
He realised his conscience hadn’t been mute, it had been gathering strength for an onslaught.
‘That... This is wonderful.’ She cuddled, almost purring, her body rubbing against him as she hugged him.
His conscience faded, replaced by a tightening of his body.
He could not ask her to leave. She’d never understand.
With more delicacy than he’d ever mustered, he patted her.
‘It was amazing,’ she said.
‘Yes. It was.’ But it could be so much more. He dropped a kiss on her forehead, then ran a hand along the smoothness of her body.
His conscience flared again, warning him. Another second, another moment of tenderness from her, and the night would begin all over again. A gentle caress here, one there, and the gentle touches would lead them back together before she understood what was happening. Only this time, he would not have the strength to stop.
‘In another few hours, it will be morning.’ He hated to move. Hated to leave her, but he had to. ‘You can take the lamp back to your room.’
She tensed.
‘It’s not that I don’t want you to stay. I just don’t want you hurt.’
‘I’ll be careful.’
The chill of her body moving away hit him.
He snuggled her close, risking another second. He had to reassure her. ‘I don’t want you to leave. I don’t.’
But it was for her own good.
Then the little voice inside him reminded him that if he’d been so concerned about what was best for Vivian, she would be in her own room now.
He had to shut it up. To speak of something. Anything.
‘The house feels differently with you and your family here. Not quite the same. I noticed it when you and Mavis first visited. The same as when my brother was here.’
‘Where does he live?’ She edged away slightly. Pulling the covers up to her chest, propping herself on her elbow. No longer intertwined with him.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Your only brother? You don’t write to him?’ Her voice rose. ‘I always wanted a brother or a sister and wished I had one.’
‘We had a disagreement. He left and hasn’t been back.’ Probably like what was about to happen with Vivian.
‘Why don’t you try to find him?’
‘It wouldn’t be that hard. Father is aware of where he lives. They correspond.’
‘Your only brother?’
He heard accusation in her words. Yes. She was getting a message from him. Perhaps that would make it all easier.
‘What did you fight over?’ she asked.
He shook his head. ‘It wasn’t important.’
The fight really hadn’t been over anything significant, but their grandfather had died only a few months before. After the death, he and Daniel had seemed to argue over everything from the name of the constellations to how the clock should be set.
Their grandfather had been a peacemaker between his grandsons. Rothwilde always took Daniel’s side, though. Grandfather and Everleigh tended to see things the same way, but his grandfather tried to bolster Daniel as well.
Even as their grandfather placated them both, Everleigh always knew his grandfather favoured him most. After all, he’d inherited his mother’s crowning jewels, her eyes.
‘What was the fight over?’
‘A saddle.’
He and Daniel were saddling the horses when Everleigh noticed Daniel hadn’t cinched his saddle firmly enough and as the older brother he’d mentioned it. Daniel had pulled the leather tighter, fury flourishing, and they’d both grown angrier. Louder. More emphatic.
They were fighting over a saddle that Daniel had corrected just as Everleigh had said, but then it became over who said what and how often Everleigh said it and how Daniel wasn’t a child but how he acted like one and how Everleigh acted like a Roman Emperor and not one of the good ones.
Finally, he’d told Daniel to take the saddle and ride off to somewhere better if he could find it.
Everleigh was certain Rothwilde had seen Daniel in the interim, but Daniel had kept his distance from Everleigh.
‘You haven’t seen your brother because of a saddle.’
‘I gave my father a letter to post for me. Daniel didn’t answer.’ He’d felt worse than when Daniel had punched him. That hadn’t hurt. It didn’t feel as deep as the crevasse he was digging for himself now. A nice, safe, deep crevasse with a lot of jagged, piercing sides.
‘Perhaps you should try again.’
‘Some rifts never mend.’ He felt judged again. By her. Yes, he was the heir. The chosen one, if only by fate. But in return, he gave his life to others. As he should. As was expected and required.
‘For me, there is no rift to mend,’ he said.
‘Tell me,’ she said, ‘what you’re not telling me.’
She stared at him the same way Mrs Rush did when she didn’t know he saw her watching him. Women—some of them—were strange creatures. Well, all he had ever met.
He gathered his thoughts, putting them into words for the first time.
‘My grandfather was more a father to me. Ella Etta was more like a roguish grandmother or aunt your family would keep you away from as best they could. Mother was a painting on the wall to be admired. Daniel and Father were close and, for some unknown reason, Daniel and Mrs Trimble, the housekeeper, had a friendship. Probably because he didn’t remember Mother as well as I did. Perhaps he didn’t really understand she’d been Father’s mistress...for a long time.’
He recalled his mother darting in and out of his life. ‘I remember my mother kindly. But not lovingly. From what I hear, she was as driven as my grandfather. Mother married Rothwilde for the title just as much as he had married her for what finances he planned to get from Grandfather. His views were simple. Hers were better thought out. She planned to become a countess. My father was the incidental part. He didn’t like discovering that, although he had no choice but to live with it.’
Everleigh shook his head. ‘She married Father for the title and found a mistress involved. Father married for funds and found a father-in-law holding tightly on to them and grasping at everything Father had ever had.’
He slid his legs over the side of the bed, and sat. The wall loomed dark in front of him. ‘My grandfather. I could smile at him and ask if the dung he spouted would make the flowers grow better and he would pretend to strike out to hit the pest—me—buzzing in front of him, missing on purpose. I would always dodge.’
‘Your mother produced two heirs. That should have made both men happy.’
‘It upped the stakes. Grandfather hadn’t expected that Rothwilde could control through keeping Daniel and me near him. Since they were so alike, Grandfather made sure that if anything happened to me or Daniel the funds could not possibly be diverted to Rothwilde. If I died, Daniel would have been in control. Without him, and without me, the funds were set to go to the church.’
His grandfather had had no affection for religion. He’d only wanted to be certain that his son-in-law never gained another pence of his fortune without the heirs.
‘You must have hated the struggle between the two men.’
‘I knew no other life. I was used to their outbursts at each other and their silent struggles for control.’ He was the only chess piece in the game. Each player felt so much depended on him and that, on a whim, he could change course. He strode a careful line, keeping the two from each other’s throats. When he wavered, he could see fury building and made peace.
‘My family was the opposite.’ The covers moved. He could tell by the sound of her voice that she lay back on the pillow.
‘Not all families need to prop each other up for Sunday dinner. Some even try to knock each other over.’ He remembered the hidden barbs, the surface sunshine and the feeling of putting out flames before they became an inferno.
She paused. ‘And you considered a marriage not based on love?’
‘It worked well enough.’
‘Well, everyone kept their head, so to speak.’
‘It wasn’t all fights and flare-ups.’
‘What enjoyment did you have?’
‘The fields. Pretending to be a vagabond. Playing at being a proper gentleman when Grandfather took us to London. Grandfather wanted us placed exactly as we should be in society. He and Father both agreed on that. Only Daniel rebelled. He didn’t like it. Said some of it was nonsense. Perhaps it was, but Grandfather knew how to roll the dice, which pair to pick up and how much to wager.’
He could see enough of her from the corner of his eye to know she studied him. She could only see his profile, he knew. He slowly turned his head, meeting her gaze, enjoying the fascination.
His thoughts lingered on her form, his mind taking a pleasant interlude to sketch the contours of her body. All of the curves dangerous...to both of them.
‘I share things with you that I didn’t ever feel necessary to speak of before. It’s my life, simple enough.’ He shrugged the words away.
‘My life was simple,’ she said.
‘Yet you want to escape from it. To explore. To dance. To be frivolous. Much like my brother does.’
‘If you put it that way, I suppose so. The world is harsh and I want it to be less so.’
She rolled from the bed and collected her chemise.
He waited, then, when she reached for the corset, he stood, moved to her and laced it loosely. ‘Will you be able to get out of it by yourself?’ he asked.
‘I just twist it around when it’s loose. Though it’s not as easy as it used to be, thankfully.’
He helped her dress, enjoying the simplicity. The connection. Her femininity.
‘I’ll light a candle for you,’ he said.
He caught himself slipping on his trousers and knew why he did. To prolong the moment.
* * *
Vivian felt the brush of his hand on her back as she stepped beyond him and into the hallway, leaving him to follow.
She reached to pull at the shoulder of her gown, when she saw shadows moving. Rothwilde halted at the end of the hall, studying her. He lifted a dim lamp.
‘Vivian.’ He gave a nod of his head. ‘Do take care. The hallway can be treacherous in the dark.’
She reached up, wishing she’d done something with her hair before she’d left the room. The door opened wide behind her. She whirled around. Everleigh stood in the doorway, shirt off, moving towards her. The lamp his father held, and her candle, illuminated them.
She saw Everleigh’s inner calculations, trying to outguess his father. His expression hardened. His eyes flashed and she could feel—actually feel—anger from his body.
Neither man moved or spoke, until Rothwilde gave a tight nod to his son, then walked away, leaving them in darkness.
She shivered.
‘I really am ruined,’ she said, after she was certain Rothwilde could not hear her.
‘He’ll not say a word. Not one word.’ Everleigh clasped her elbow, irritation fading. ‘You have nothing to concern yourself with on that account. It is as if he never saw you.’
‘But he did see.’ She stepped back. ‘He knows.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘But it does to me.’
He took her arm. ‘I’ll see you to your room. I’m more familiar with this house than you are. I can navigate in the dark.’
She hesitated before moving.
He stopped. ‘Vivian, I’m not an innocent. Neither is my father. Likely he was planning a visit to his mistress and was interrupted when he saw you.’
‘I know you say that to make me feel better, but it doesn’t help. Not at all.’
He took the candle and pulled her close. His cheek touched hers. ‘I’m not going to live the same life as he did. He has had a mistress since before he married my mother. When she found out, he spirited his lover away in the night and he brought her back when my mother died. She didn’t have to come far as he’d put her in a house on the estate.’
‘Why didn’t he just marry her in the first place?’
‘An earl can’t marry his housekeeper, particularly an earl strapped for finances. He had no choice but to marry my mother. It really was an arrangement that suited everyone, more or less. Do not concern yourself, Vivian. It’s the past. It’s over.’ The words had too much emotion. It wasn’t over for him.
She took a step back, feeling a confusion she couldn’t understand.
‘This is only one night, Vivian. One night. Nothing happened between us that a sunrise cannot erase.’
‘A sunrise can erase everything that happened between us?’ she repeated softly.
‘Yes.’
‘You will withdraw the proposal?’
‘I will,’ he answered. ‘Today.’