Looking into her dark, shimmering gaze, Prescott realized, not for the first time, that Edwina Ross was a very complex woman. The fact that she shouldered some of the blame for the confrontation was a credit to her strong character. That she was examining her own actions in the hopes of improving how she dealt with others was downright inspiring.
“Whom are you preparing yourself to deal with, Edwina?” Prescott felt an unfamiliar sense of protectiveness. “Your father?”
She sighed, looking away. “Well, yes.”
“Is your father a spiteful man? Has he ever…” His gut tightened. “Hit you?”
“He hasn’t laid a hand on me since I was ten. And I certainly couldn’t blame him then, I’d just shorn my sister’s hair.”
“Really?” he asked, relieved. “Girlhood antics?”
“Nay. I was bemoaning my own dark locks and she very sweetly offered me a few of hers. I cut her hair and then glued it onto my own.”
“What were you thinking?”
“It seemed like a wonderful plan at the time. But in execution…” Her smile was tense. “Let us hope that my plans have improved over time.” She shook her head. “But getting back to Lady Pomfry…well, if I’m truly being honest with myself, she brings out the green-eyed monster in me and I handled it—”
“You’ve nothing to be jealous of, Edwina. What you and I have goes far beyond anything she’s even capable of.” He wrapped his arms around her, enjoying how she leaned into him. “My feelings for her never held a candle to the way I feel about you.”
She sighed and her body relaxed. They fit quite agreeably together, like two pieces of a puzzle. “Well, that’s certainly nice to know.”
“And how, my fair lady, do you feel about me?” He was holding his breath and he knew it, and was unable to do a bloody thing about it.
Leaning her head back, she toyed with his cravat, pressing the linen. “You’re trying to change the topic, Prescott Devane…”
“True, but that doesn’t mean I don’t wish to know how you feel about me.”
She sighed, pretending to be greatly put out. “Well, if you must know…” She smiled shyly. “I’m really quite…fond of you. Quite…very much…a lot. A very lot.”
He chuckled, feeling inordinately relieved. “That’s quite a jumble of the King’s English…”
“I can take it back if you insist…”
He hugged her tighter. “Don’t you dare.”
She bit her lip. “Prescott?”
“Yes?”
“I was thinking that, perhaps when all is said and done here, that mayhap you might consider staying on with me for a bit.”
He blinked, his heart skipping a beat. “What are you asking me, Edwina?”
Busying herself with his cravat, she shrugged. “Well, you see…that transaction my cousin and I were trying to close in Cambridge. Well, I was thinking that you are so good with people and all, that you might help repair the damage.”
Prescott felt the disappointment like a musket ball stuck in his chest. What had he expected? She wanted his help in a business transaction in the same way she wanted his help in combating the blackmailer. She might be fond of him, but it was his usefulness that mattered. “We’ll see,” was all he could think to say.
“Well, it’s just that, I was thinking, that if you and I stay together, which I hope…I would very much like…well, then, at some point, well, I am going to have to face my father about it. Which brings me back to the topic that I seem to be mucking up so badly…
“What I’ve been trying to articulate, very poorly I might add, is that the run-in with Lady Pomfry…” She motioned toward the house. “It reminded me of how I often feel when I’m facing my father. All anger and no positive effect. So I want your guidance. Well, when it comes to you…us, I want to be clear, I want to be understood.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s important to me that it go as well as possible with my father.”
“Why?” He knew he sounded like a nine-year-old lad asking “why?” every other sentence, but he couldn’t help it. His heart hurt and he wanted to know “why” it ached so excruciatingly and how to make it stop.
She didn’t meet his eyes. “Because I want it, us, to be about you and me without a whole lot of everyone else butting in. I want us to…last.”
Licking his dry lips, he swallowed. “You wish to be together for a long time? Even after you no longer have a need for me?”
Her brow furrowed. “A need for you? I know that we started out as partners in an effort to the stop the blackmailer, but I would hope that our relationship, what we have now, isn’t as mercenary as that.”
Suddenly that musket ball in his chest didn’t feel quite so excruciating. “So you want to be with me, simply to be with me?”
“Of course. I care for you. Don’t you want to stay together?” She peered up at him, her eyes anxious. “Even after we’re finished with everything…?”
A knot deep inside his heart slowly unwound. “That would be…most acceptable to me.”
“Most acceptable…” Narrowing her eyes, she swatted at him. “You’re torturing me now, aren’t you? For giving you grief over Lady Pomfry.”
“No, just for the fun of it.” He smiled.
He kissed her temple, feeling giddy with relief. She wanted him just because she cared. Not for his usefulness or for convenience. Because she cared. She truly cared.
Inhaling her sweet lily of the valley scent, his heart swelled with a heretofore unknown joy. But part of him still didn’t fully trust it. Joy was the underside of grief and despair, as he well knew. But he wasn’t willing to let this wonderful feeling go, not just yet, and he savored the moment, holding Edwina tightly in his arms.
“Hmmm.” Laying her head on his shoulder, she leaned into him, sighing. “You feel so good.”
Caressing her silky soft shoulder, he closed his eyes, relishing the feel of her soft body molded into his.
The earthy scents of vegetation, roses, hydrangeas, oranges and lemons filled the dark space and the moist air clung to Prescott’s skin. The air was thick tonight, charged with moisture as if a storm would soon be upon them.
Edwina shivered, her skin warming beneath his caressing fingers. “Hmmm.” She shifted against him, her skirts swirling about his legs.
Desire spiked through him, fierce, powerful and predicated on a need much deeper than simple passion. He wanted Edwina and needed her, more than he’d ever wanted another woman in his life.
“Do you think we might say our good-nights?” At the sensual cadence of her voice, his blood quickened even more. “People in the country keep country hours…”
Grabbing her hand, Prescott pulled her deeper into the shadows of the conservatory, the sounds of his shoes and her slippers echoing on the stone-flagged floors.
“Don’t we have to say—”
“To hell with good-nights,” he growled.
A blaze of light flashed in the distant sky.
Moments later thunder boomed in the night, the conservatory seemed to shudder, then all was quiet.
Halting, Edwina pulled on his hand and looked up at the glass ceiling. “That sounded close.”
He stopped. “Nay, it’s miles away.”
Lightning flashed once more in the distance.
“See?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “I do.” Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she pulled his head down to hers.
Cloaked in shadow, they clung to each other, seeking, needing and giving to the other all that they longed for themselves. While in the distance, nature played her orchestra, with flashes of light illuminating the darkness.
Digging his hands into her soft hair, Prescott kissed her until he was breathless with need, his heart pounding, his body thrumming, his shaft thick and insistent, straining against his breeches.
Prescott’s arms snaked around her bottom, lifting her, showing her how much she affected him, how desperately he wanted her. Her legs parted, wrapping around his hips so enticingly his shaft thrummed.
Her kisses deepened, her tongue mating with his. Her hips bucked against him, urging him to take her. He pressed himself deep into her, feeling her moist heat through the thin muslin of her gown.
There was only her soft body molding to his, the heat flaming between them, the heady scent of her desire overpowering all else, and the thunder playing on in the distance.
A small voice in his mind called out warnings that this was too feral, she was too much of a lady…
Catching his breath, he muttered. “God, if only the rooms were closer…”
“What’s wrong with here?” The invitation in her voice was unmistakable. But still…he couldn’t quite imagine taking her on the floor. Actually he could, and the picture wasn’t displeasing…
She licked her lips. “I heard once about a man and a woman, well…standing…”
He needed no further urging. Grasping the firm globes of her bottom, he lifted her higher and carried her over to one of the thick columns, pressing her back up against the smooth marble.
Pulling at his cravat and unbuttoning the top of his waistcoat, she pressed her soft lips to his neck, suckling.
As rain spattered on the glass ceiling above them, Edwina hitched herself higher on him, enclosing his shaft in such excruciating pleasure that his knees almost collapsed underneath him.
“Edwina,” he groaned.
She clung to him, her skin flaming, her mouth working on him until all thoughts escaped save for getting inside of her.
“Now, Prescott,” she breathed. “Please…”
His last shreds of control unraveled; he was mindless with need, driven to a passion that had to be sated.
Holding her aloft, he tugged at his breeches, all the while being urged onward by Edwina’s panting breaths and honeyed kisses.
Reaching beneath her gown, he found her drawers, seeking the ties behind.
“Just tear it open, Prescott,” she moaned. “Fill me.”
The rip screeched in the darkness, the very act making his body pulse with anticipation.
She groaned, clinging to him, parting her legs and wrapping them around his waist so that his member pressed against the moist heat of her inner thigh.
Groaning, she shifted, urging him inside. He locked his legs, his body quaking, his shaft pulsing and his heart beating so wildly he thought he might just die. She bucked, ramming him deep into her wetness. Moaning, Edwina squirmed, pulling his mouth down to hers.
He was consumed by the darkness, her heady-scented desire, her mouth on his, her tongue loving him, thrusting inside of him just as he rammed his shaft deep into her hot core. She took him, encased him, molded herself around him and ground him so deep inside of her he wanted to scream.
A cry filled the night, quickly muffled against his shoulder. Edwina clasped him so hard as he thrust into her again and again, spilling his seed.
Panting, they clung to each other in a sweaty, passion-scented muslin cloud, waiting for the world to stop spinning. Waiting for reality to breach the fantasy.
But when Prescott opened his eyes and looked down, Edwina was still there, still sweetly beautiful in the flashes of lightning. And still his. For the moment, at least, not all dreams faded into mist.