The house was quiet, everyone in bed, when Peter made his way on bare feet to Lenora’s room.
He shouldn’t go to her. He knew that as surely as he knew the sun would rise on the morrow, bringing him one day closer to leaving the Isle for good. Yet he also knew that if he didn’t see Lenora this instant, to verify with his own eyes that she was well and safe, he would go mad.
He stopped before her door. Everything was silent within. Perhaps she was sleeping. He should go back to his bed and try to fall asleep.
His toes curled in the plush runner, his entire body leaning toward the wooden panel as if it held all the answers to life. And perhaps it did. Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand and knocked lightly.
The door opened almost immediately. As if she’d been waiting on the other side, as if she’d expected him.
“Peter,” she breathed.
It was as natural as breathing to take her in his arms, to claim her lips with his own. Her slender arms came about his neck, her fingers grasping greedily to his shoulders, digging into the fabric of his shirt. Heaven. She was absolute heaven in his embrace. Berries and sunshine and sweetness filled him. He walked her back into the room and pushed the door closed behind him.
“I had to see you,” he murmured into her mouth. “I had to make sure you were well.”
An understatement. These last hours, after they had whisked Lenora from him, closing her up in her rooms, had been the longest in his life. He’d paced the floor, sick with worry. Had he been too late? Had his decision to carry her through the pouring rain been the right one? Or had he merely made certain she would fall ill? The urge to see her, to make certain she was safe, had been more than a need; it had been a compulsion.
Now she was in his arms, safe and dry. And he couldn’t stop touching her. He ran his hands down her back, over her hips, up her sides until his thumbs brushed the gentle swell of her breasts. She wore only a nightgown, a thin cotton affair. There were no layers upon layers of clothing, no stays to keep his hands from exploring every delectable inch of her.
“I was hoping you would come,” she whispered, running her lips along his cheek to his ear.
“Were you?” He pulled back, looked down into her face. The fire had been banked, the faint orange embers sending barely enough light to where they stood half the room away. Yet the warmth, the hunger in her gaze, was as clear as if a thousand candles burned bright.
His breath caught in his throat. He had to leave before he did something they both regretted. “I’ll let you rest,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You need to sleep.”
Her hands came up to cradle his face when he would have released her. She swayed against him, the tips of her breasts brushing his chest. He sucked in his breath, his body burning.
“Don’t go,” she whispered.
He shook his head helplessly. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I do.” She smiled, her beautiful eyes clear of doubt. “I want you, Peter. I have from the start.”
Her words sank in slowly. When their meaning penetrated the thick cloud his brain had become, his arms came about her, his hands clenching in the delicate material of her nightgown. He buried his face in her neck, pressing a desperate kiss to the soft skin there.
“I can’t stay away from you,” he rasped. “I tried. Damnation, but I tried.”
“You don’t have to stay away,” she whispered into his temple. Her fingers threaded into his hair.
“But I can’t marry you, Lenora.” It was no more than he had said before. Yet one word stood out from the rest, adding a wealth of meaning: can’t. Even so, his course in life suddenly sat heavy and wrong on his shoulders.
“I know. I never asked you to marry me, Peter,” she murmured. And then, her voice dropping to a strained whisper, “I wasn’t meant to be happily married anyway.”
Was she thinking of Hillram? He expected jealousy to once more rear its ugly head. Instead he found only a deep grief, that she should have lost so much so young.
And that he had not been there first.
But if he’d kept his promise to his mother and stayed with Lady Tesh, he might have been. He sucked in his breath, regret such as he had never known crashing over his head. He would have been around for those summers she spent on the Isle as a young girl, might have been the one she fell in love with instead of his cousin.
Her fingers tightened in his hair, dragging him from the hopelessness of could-have-beens. “But I’ll have tonight at least,” she whispered fiercely.
He swallowed hard and pulled back to look down at her, his heart aching at the determined light in her eyes. “I can’t give you what you need, can’t give you what you deserve.”
She took his face in her hands, brought it down to hers. “Right now, all I need is you. In this moment, right now. Nothing else matters.”
He should fight it, walk away. But then her lips were on his, and every care and worry, every doubt and fear, faded.
* * *
Lenora clung tight as Peter lifted her in his arms. He carried her with tender care, as if she were a treasure beyond worth.
Yet his lips were hungry, plundering her mouth with feverish intent. And when he lowered her to the mattress, laying her down amid the rumpled sheets, his body quickly followed.
He was everywhere, his hard weight pressing into her, the spicy scent of him filling her senses, the taste of his tongue and the rasp of his whiskers on her skin driving her nearly senseless with desire. She grasped him tighter, needing more.
“I won’t ruin you,” he vowed, the words hot as he moved his mouth down the column of her throat.
“I don’t care,” she panted.
“I do.” He rose up on one elbow, stared down into her face, his gaze caressing her with infinite tenderness. “You’re far too precious. And I won’t leave you disgraced.”
But she couldn’t think of him leaving. There was only here and now. “I’ll take whatever I can of you, Peter,” she breathed, dragging his head down to hers.
He groaned, the tension transforming in an instant to a wild desperation. It mirrored her own, a silent acknowledgment of how fleeting this moment was.
He lifted his head from hers, and she cried out from the loss of him. But he didn’t go far. His lips found the straining tip of her breast. Soon his mouth was open and hot over it, wetting the fabric that stood between them. His hand went to the hem of her nightgown, dragging it up her body, exposing her to the cool night.
This was no slow undressing. And she was glad of it, for she thought she might scream if he drew it out. All she wanted was his hands and lips on her. Finally her clothing was sailing through the air, his soon following. Then he was stretched over her and there was nothing between them.
He gave a low hiss of pleasure and buried his face in her neck. “My God, you’re heaven,” he whispered.
The words sent a shiver through her. She pressed her lips to the smooth skin of his shoulder, ran her palms over the muscles of his back. They bunched and shuddered under her touch.
Peter was the largest, strongest man she had ever known. Everything about him screamed power, competence. But hadn’t she seen in the past fortnight that he was not as immune as he would like others to believe? Hadn’t she seen the vulnerability in him, time and again? And now this, physical proof that just her touch had the power to render him helpless.
But in the next moment, he proved that his own touch on her was just as powerful. He began a slow slide down, his mouth and lips and teeth worshipping her skin. She gasped, arched up into him, as he showered kisses over her neck, her breasts, her quivering stomach. His hands followed, large and rough and calloused. They had seen grief and want, hard work and determination. They skimmed her skin, massaged into straining muscles, caressed with infinite care, bringing her to greater heights of pleasure.
When he reached the thatch of curls at the very apex of her, however, she froze. Margery had told her some of the mechanics of lovemaking, enough to whet her interest in what else could be involved. But Lenora had never in her wildest imaginings expected this.
“Peter?” Her voice warbled with uncertainty.
“Let me taste you,” he breathed. His breath stirred the hair there, brushing what was hidden within. She shuddered.
“Please.”
She would have given anything to him, such was the power of that one word from his lips.
“Yes,” she whispered, letting her legs fall open to him.
And then his mouth was there, at the center of her. And nothing else mattered.
He started off gentle, the warmth of his tongue stroking her in slow, languid caresses. She gasped, her fingers digging into the soft white sheets beneath her, trembling as sensations rippled through her. She tried to remain still. Surely a lady didn’t react in such a wanton way. Yet when his finger entered her in a gentle slide, filling her body, as well as her soul, she could no longer rein in the instinct to move.
Crying out into the dimness of the room, she raised her hips, pressing against his mouth. He growled low, and the vibrations of the sound, focused on that part of her that was quickly becoming the center of her universe, sent her spiraling further over the edge. His tongue worked faster, his lips closing around her, his finger working inside her until she thought she would shatter.
And then she did, into a million pieces that she thought would never find their way back together again.
Until he rose up over her, and pulled her trembling body into his arms, cradling her to his chest. It was then she felt it, her heart settling where it belonged, beating strong and sure against him.
* * *
Peter had never felt so content, so whole, so free from the pain and anger of his past, as he did in that moment. Lenora lay curled against his side, all limp softness. As much as she had surprised him with her passion before, her response tonight left him dizzy with pleasure. That she could trust him enough to open herself up in such a way humbled him. Would that he could spend the rest of his days bringing her such pleasure, that he could claim her for his own.
He immediately recoiled from the rogue thought. He couldn’t abandon the plans of half a lifetime.
Regret, heavy and bitter, filled him. Yes, he would see his vow through. He tightened his hold on Lenora, paradise in his arms. Though it would not happen without a price.
“Peter?”
Her voice startled him. He’d thought her sleeping. “Yes?”
Her slender fingers played over his chest. “Is everything all right?”
He forced himself to relax under her. She didn’t deserve his dark thoughts. She was innocent in all this, someone who had wandered too close to a flame. He prayed she didn’t get scorched when it was over and done with.
He doubted he would be so lucky.
“Everything is fine,” he murmured into the crown of her head. Dropping a kiss there, he rubbed his hand over her back, hoping to lull her to sleep.
But Lenora rose up on her elbow and looked down on him. Even in the dim light, he could see the worry that drew her brows together. “Tell me what’s troubling you, Peter.”
Damn but she was lovely. Her hair was in disarray, her lips swollen from his kisses. Unable to help himself, he cupped the back of her head and pulled her down for a kiss. “Nothing is troubling me.”
“Liar,” she whispered, though there was no anger in the word. She melted against him, splaying her hands over his chest. Suddenly a flush stole over her cheeks, even discernible in the low light. Her eyes lowered to his chin. “But you did not…uh…”
He frowned. “Did not what?”
Her cheeks went even darker. “When I…er…you did not…um…”
Was she asking him if he had finished? Despite himself, his lips twitched. “I thought you were more eloquent than that.”
She shot him a glare, pushing against his chest. Immediately his arms tightened about her, his lips going to her neck to disguise the grin that had spilled over.
“You’re asking if I reached satisfaction?” he murmured against her skin.
She shivered, and he could almost hear her eyes rolling back in her head. She nuzzled his temple, nodding. “I want to know if you felt what I did.”
The husky rasp of her voice, quickly building again to desire, nearly did him in right then and there. Taking firm control of himself—so he didn’t spend himself like a young lad without even a touch, or roll her onto her back and sink into her warmth—he pulled back and looked her in the eye.
“Never mind me, Lenora. Tonight was for you.”
Her lips parted, the breath leaving her in a soft rush. “But…don’t you want to?”
He nearly groaned. “More than you know, sweet.”
Her brows drew together again in a frustrated little dip. “Then why?”
Cupping her cheek, he ran his thumb over her soft skin. “I told you I wouldn’t ruin you. I won’t break that promise.”
Instead of being grateful, she glowered at him. “I don’t recall asking you to make that promise.”
He stared at her, stunned. Suddenly a laugh welled up, breaking free. His head fell back against the pillows as his mirth washed over him.
“And what is so funny?” she demanded.
Her voice held hints of aggravation and frustration. His chuckles died down, but he couldn’t erase the smile from his face for anything. He had never been so blasted happy in his life. “Are you angry at me for not ravishing you?”
“No, of course not.”
She tried once more to rise. He rolled them over, so he was half on top of her, the truth finally sinking in that she was serious.
“You wish for me to ravish you?” he asked.
“Would it be so terrible?”
Her voice was so small, he could tell it had taken everything in her to ask that simple question. Leaning down, he took her lips in a gentle kiss. “It would not be terrible,” he whispered. “In fact, it would be the single most amazing event in my entire life. But,” he continued when she would have opened her mouth to argue, “I cannot. I’ll keep what I can of my honor; I promised not to ruin you, and I won’t go back on that.”
Her fingers dove into his hair, increasing both his pain and his pleasure a thousandfold. “You’re the most honorable man I know.”
“I’m not. If I was, I wouldn’t have come to you tonight.”
She was silent for so long, he thought she wouldn’t answer. Then, in a quiet voice, “I’m glad you did.”
“I’m glad as well,” he said through a throat thick with some emotion he could not—would not—name. As he claimed her lips again, he ignored the small voice in the back of his mind that said that, as glad as he was now, the pain of leaving would only be worse.