He took her to his room, shrugging the coat from his shoulders and placing the garment across the back of a chair, next to the lit lamp he’d brought from the library. He wanted to see her.
With one long stride he was again by her side.
Guilt clouded his mind. He could not make love to her. The repercussions for her could be tremendous.
But he couldn’t tell her to leave either. He could pleasure her as he had before. As long as he did not let himself go past the moment when it would be too late to turn back.
Then he undid the closures of the pelisse and helped her from the sleeves. He took the coat and threw it over his own.
She stared up at him and he remembered that she wanted sweet words. He could give them to her. She put them inside him.
He held her gaze. ‘When I see you, I know your skin is like nectar against my lips. Something created for pleasure.’
Her body, with the smallest turn, inspired his imagination to see all her feminine twists and curves.
She didn’t even seem to come from the same world he did—she came from a place of frilly frocks and gentleness and sunshine even on the coldest of days.
He rested his hands on her hips, savouring the moment of being in her presence.
She touched his waistcoat and undid each button. Taking the fabric, she slid it over his shoulders. Stepping back, she moved to put the clothing neatly, but he captured her again, and gave the smallest shake of his head. The waistcoat fell to the floor.
‘There’s too little time to think of our clothing,’ he said. ‘We’re together. That’s all that matters.’
Before she could respond, he held her hands, pulling her into a clasp that lasted only seconds before she tugged away, raising her hands to his white shirt collar.
‘I agree,’ she whispered.
Without hesitation, she slipped away the knot of his cravat, unwound it, and let it fall to the side.
She undid the fastenings of the shirt. He gave a slight nod, lifted the fabric from his waistband and pulled upwards. He helped her move the shirt away and her vision remained locked on the chest in front of her revealing a trim expanse of maleness.
He clasped both her wrists and put them to his cheeks, letting her feel the roughening beard, then moved her hands to the softer skin of his neck, the light hair of his chest and the pebbled nipples.
Her fingers hadn’t recovered from the touch of his chest. She wasn’t sure she could manage another set of buttons, when he stepped back.
His voice roughened. ‘Boots first, I suppose.’ He moved away.
He sat in the chair, his observation never leaving her, and removed his boots. Then he stood, and in his stockinged feet he seemed even larger. She leaned closer, reaching out to thread her fingers through his hair. He was a muse to lovemaking; his thoughts seemed to guide her.
She touched the fall of his trousers, letting the buttons rest in her hands. ‘I’m not as shy as I thought,’ she said.
His lips quirked up briefly into a true smile and she basked in it, wishing his smiles were not so rare.
‘I’m pleased.’
He reached behind her, so close she could feel him speaking against her skin, while he freed the hooks of her dress.
Her hands fell from his trousers while the dress slid down her body and moved between them, revealing her chemise, before falling to the floor.
‘No corset?’ he asked, not waiting for an answer, but instead dropping a kiss on her shoulder.
Their consciousness blended. She saw the knowledge in him that she wore nothing underneath the chemise and the awareness she imagined in his mind flared heated cravings in her own body.
He found the hollow of her neck and nuzzled against her, the moisture of his lips doing nothing to reduce the flames of passion his hands stoked as he caressed her back, pressing her so that the only way they could become closer was with movement, twisting and turning, so that their bodies could soak up the sensation of more touches and more of each other.
Her hand slipped down his side, leaving his skin and returning to the cloth of his trousers—now an unwanted barrier. Her fingertips tangled in his waistband and she discovered fine hairs on the heated skin of his stomach.
Taking one of her hands, he put it on his top trouser button and she undid the fall, finding the man beneath.
After a moment he stepped back, sliding his clothes away, and stood before her, no more self-conscious than if he were fully dressed.
He touched her chemise and did little more than give a twist of his wrist and a flick, and she blinked as the cloth moved over her head.
She took his hand, and pulled him closer to the bed. Then, they fell back on to the mattress.
When his head swooped down and his lips took hers it took too much strength to keep her eyes open. Her fingertips absorbed the feel of his skin, taking it in, and the whole of her body did the same.
His mouth swirled over her. Her lips, her neck, her shoulders and her breasts. He moved along her body, taking the taste of her skin, and, as if he could not merely experience her with his mouth, he had to taste her with his whole body. And his hands.
She knew he was intensely aroused. She could tell by his urgency, by the pressure of his hardness against her and the heated air around them.
She grasped him, as if he could keep her from going over a cliff, and she pushed against him, ready for the edge, the tumble and the pillow his arms made for her.
The only thing keeping her from fluttering from her body was his clasp. Stronger than she realised. His lips came back to graze at her neck, her shoulders.
Liquid desire overtook her and made her restless for his touch.
She didn’t pull him closer—it wasn’t possible. He breathed into her skin.
Even when she arched against him, he kept her hip pressed into his arousal.
‘Ev...’ she whispered, but his lips stopped her.
Her body—every part of it—felt alive, lush, absorbing his touch. Time altered. Worlds changed. She could have parted clouds and pulled the moon to a higher part of the sky.
While she didn’t say his name fully even once, he said hers. He whispered it in her ear, prayer-like, and said it against her skin and against her hair, and her body responded to his call.
He explored her with the reverence of touching a miracle, his fingertips grazing the softness of her stomach, the gentle slope of her hips and the femininity hidden within her.
Then he gave her a pulsating completion which could have shattered the sun.
While she learned to breathe again, he held her close from above. She saw him, but it wasn’t the same man she’d seen before.
‘I need to go,’ he said, his lips blending with hers. ‘You’re an innocent. After you’ve had time to consider if this is really what you want, then I will meet you.’
‘I thought about the things you mentioned before I entered the room,’ she said. ‘No one else I have ever met or seen comes close to making me feel the way I feel about you. No matter what else happens, I’ve gone too far to walk away as innocent as I was and I’ve gone too far to walk away without knowing that you’re the man I want to share my first time with.’
He waited, torn. ‘But if you were to change your mind in the morning...?’
‘I’d rather risk regrets, which I don’t intend to have, than risk wishing for what I have missed. I want to always have this memory. Of you. Of making love.’
She was silent, waiting for another kiss, tracing his lips with her fingertips, running a hand over his chest, exploring the form she would never forget.
‘If you do have regrets in the morning, I will feel them for you. You mustn’t. You mustn’t regret this. We may never have another opportunity to share so much of ourselves with each other. I want you happy,’ he said.
‘The only way I can have that,’ she answered, ‘is if you make love to me.’
He held her chin and tenderly silenced her with his lips. Holding her at his side, he let them explore each other, the distance between them lessening with each kiss and caress.
With the tip of his manhood against her, he positioned himself, rose over her and pulled her bottom towards him, controlling her movements and his descent, watching her, searching for her pleasure while he entered her.
Their bodies intertwined and he was affected more deeply than he’d ever been before. He had no control except for wanting to give her something she would cherish and he’d find his pleasure in that.
His skin reacted as if it touched lightning and she was the life force that kept him breathing and alive.
He concentrated his attention, turning inside, reaching some unknown place. He breathed primitive gasps as he released inside her.
They rocked together and she felt his shudder. She clasped his back and knew, knew the oneness that enveloped them as her release followed his.
When she regained the use of her body, she could still feel him inside her, above her, pressed close, a sheen of exertion on his shoulders and sounding as if his breaths used all his strength.
Then he moved and pulled her to his side, resting his face against her. They lay side by side, embracing while catching their breath.
The moment soothed her, but then he moved, just enough to jostle her back into reality.
This had been a pleasing interlude away from their lives, one she’d never forget or regret. But it had to end. And it must end soon, before someone discovered them.
When she’d rolled away she slid from the bed, but he clamped an arm about her waist.
‘A little longer,’ he said. ‘We have more time together.’
‘I know...’ She hesitated, then slipped out of his grasp, continuing to move away, surprised that he could lounge so completely unclothed.
She pulled her chemise in front of her, covering herself, and knowing a humorous glint lit his expression.
She saw the mirror and touched the countenance that stared back at her. That person had changed so much in such a short period of time.
Then she observed her hair. Strands poked out in ways she’d never seen before. Half the pins were missing. She noted how long it took her to dress in the morning compared to the seconds it took him to turn her into total disarray.
His reflection showed in the mirror and she became self-conscious.
‘Turn away. I need to dress.’
He grabbed a pillow and held it over his face. ‘Satisfied?’
‘Thank you,’ she mumbled, donning the chemise and taking a few moments for composure.
‘It doesn’t matter, I can still imagine you.’ His tone was muffled, soft and endearing.
She sat on the bed and picked up a hairpin she’d felt under her foot, absently tucking it in place.
The bed shifted and she knew he’d moved. His hand clasped her side, palm stationary and fingers moving. ‘Vivian. Stay in bed a while longer. A few kisses, sweet words and caresses wouldn’t be remiss.’
‘I want time to think of this—to cherish it...’ She paused. ‘It’s just so private. Last time I stumbled over your father. The servants may be awake soon. People will be waking...’
‘I assure you if they work it out, it will make no difference. It can’t be undone.’
‘Oh, my.’ She didn’t want anyone to know and yet she almost yearned for their union to be written in the sky.
She bent forward, her hand touching his cheek, her contemplation riveted on him. She couldn’t get enough of their closeness and feared it. Feared it might lodge in her consciousness and she would yearn for it all the hours of the day.
She brushed her hand across his unshaven jaw, another connection she could share, if only for a heartbeat.
‘Those are sharp,’ she said, dropping her hand away. ‘I didn’t imagine them so...razor-like. So different.’ She reached out, brushing back the hair above his ear. ‘Soft here and still like little daggers on your cheek.’
Her touch stopped him. Trapped him.
‘Such opposing textures. So near each other.’ She spoke quietly, more to herself than him.
Her fingers left his skin and she felt an ache in her heart.
‘Vivian. I have a feeling you have some things you wonder about?’
‘Is it only in bed that a man and woman can talk freely to each other? And then, only with their bodies?’ she asked. ‘Why do you feel at ease talking with me? Does that mean anything to you?’
He gave a grim smile. ‘Our first meeting. Mavis injured. You dying. I was at a loss.’
When he blinked his regard rested on her in a way that almost made her believe he couldn’t see her, but the past. ‘You were so thin. So pale. I felt I could tell you anything. You were almost a spirit, not a person. Fragile. I knew I could trust you.’
He nodded and spoke without inflection. ‘I talked to you and had no trouble with it. You did not appear to have the strength to spread tales. I felt concerned for you, yet I liked the feel of speaking to you. You listened with your whole body while we were in my town house. But I wish we were there now, instead of here. I hate this house, but yet it is my ancestral home.’
‘It’s melancholy.’
‘It’s never been the same since my mother died, although she wasn’t particularly happy here. She preferred London. But her portrait has always been here.’
He regarded her. ‘You noticed her portrait and I told you the eyes had been repainted. Several days after Mother had died, Father and I were away seeing that her things were sorted through in the town house. While we were gone, Father’s jealous sweetheart scratched over the eyes in Mother’s picture with black. I was furious. I was for sending Mrs Trimble packing, but my father threw himself in front of me and said I would have to go through him. We didn’t speak for months, but he hired an artist to fix the painting. The artist used my eyes as an example to copy.’
‘I’m surprised your father would allow someone to stay who would do such a thing.’
He put a finger against his stubble, in the same place she had touched. ‘I was as well. But the talebearers then told me that Father has always had an affection for her, yet there have never been any tales of her having his child.’
Realisation flashed in Vivian’s mind.
‘You didn’t—you didn’t try to make sure I could not have a child from this encounter?’ Vivian heard her voice and knew she wouldn’t have recognised it if she hadn’t felt her own lips move.
‘No.’
‘Why?’
He didn’t speak at first, holding her waist.
‘I didn’t think of it.’
‘You would force me into marriage?’
He shook his head. ‘No. But I would not want any child to be born without my name.’ He clasped her hand, intertwining their fingers. ‘For those moments...all I could think of was you. And now all I can think of is how I have to say goodbye.’
‘I would think we could still visit...on occasion.’
‘It will be too risky for us to see each other in London, though I would relish it. So many, many things could go wrong. You would never be able to travel back and forth easily from my town house without being seen. The regret I have with touching you, and having to let you go, is nothing to the pain I would feel if I damaged your reputation...your future.’
‘I understand. I didn’t expect anyone to see us before and a whole congregation did. Then, last time, your father surprised us in the hallway.’
The slight movement of his lips, up, then firm, indicated an eruption of thoughts.
‘Will you remember me?’ she asked.
‘I don’t even want to think about how much I will dwell on you.’
‘If you don’t wake up and dislike me.’
‘We could marry and find out,’ he said. ‘We could do this every night.’
She heard the breath through his nostrils.
If he didn’t open his eyes one morning and consider her just another addition to the estate. The woman needed for heirs. She pulled her hand from his.
‘Think about the passion we could share.’
She couldn’t help thinking about it. She thought about it every time she breathed. When she didn’t think about him, then her body reminded her in subtle ways, flashing a memory of Everleigh’s skin against hers or his breath on her cheek or the feel of his hair brushing her body.
His voice softened. ‘You’re very soothing, Vivian. I’m amazed at how differently I feel when I’m with you.’
‘You want an heir. To please your grandfathers. Even though they are dead.’
He opened his mouth and a second passed before he spoke. ‘Yes.’ His words, controlled, slightly louder than his last ones. ‘Of course. It is not abnormal to want to continue a legacy that has been gifted to me.’
Every muscle in his face tightened. His words became soft, but underlying strength rested within them. ‘I cannot banish you from my head. Every interval of the day memories of you are stroking me, heightening my need for you. Work rid me of such recollections in the past. But it won’t this time. Something inside you trapped me, Vivian.’
She didn’t move. Trapped?
He smiled. Part of his face did anyway. Not all of it.
He pulled back the length of an eyelash.
He let his hand trail down, one finger following just above the scoop of her neckline, tracing the last bit of exposed skin.
Everleigh kept her locked in place with his intensity. ‘I won’t forget you,’ he said. ‘I’ll be gone before you wake in the morning. You can think of me as a dream you had.’
He got out of bed and pulled on his trousers.
His voice, sombre, whispered, ‘Stay as long as you wish. I need to wake the coachman and let him know I’ll be leaving at first light, or before if possible.’
‘You don’t have to leave,’ she said.
‘I do. This is the cleanest break. The softest one. If we stay near each other, your reputation will become what I fear you truly want. Unmarriageable. I don’t want to be the one to do that to you. I cannot.’
‘You don’t feel we’ve already done that, in a sense?’
‘You’re blossoming with life now. You’re vibrant. When you do decide to marry—and I believe you will eventually—you will sweep into a room and there will be a man at your elbow, or many, and they will understand that you have passed the years of naivety and believe that the man who took your innocence and didn’t marry you was a cad.’
‘I will tell the truth.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘Don’t. No one needs to know. Let this be our private moment. Our secret for the rest of our lives.’
Then he left, striding out of the room, shutting the door softly behind him. The light seemed to fade.
She picked up his cravat and balled it in her hand, but instead of throwing it at the wall she swept it to her cheek.