Chapter 34
I once believed that a perfect marriage, like the one my parents shared, would be one of blissful peace and contentment in the company of another. I never considered that contrariness might be attractive or that chaos might appeal.
That it is the conflicts in our lives that make us feel so very alive.
––––––––
“Here, drink this.”
Fiona took the glass Aylesbury offered her and took a sip, welcoming the burn of the whiskey as it went down her throat. Tilting back the glass, she took a larger swallow, purging the last of the sickly-sweet flavor of the chloroform that still seemed to coat her mouth and throat.
“Better?”
With a nod, she finished off the three-fingered pour. Her head was abuzz again but pleasantly this time. And she was safe, locked away from the world and all the nastiness in it at Aylesbury’s townhouse.
“Good, now I can say what’s on my mind. This whole thing has gotten out of hand,” he scolded. “Have you no sense whatsoever? I cannot believe that after what happened only yesterday, you would be out in the open like that.”
“I’m not entirely imprudent, nor am I beyond taking precautions,” she insisted, sensitive to his display of concern.
“The tournament was very public, and I was surrounded by people just as I promised. I was never alone and had the coachman and two other footmen escort me there. Peters followed along with the play to protect me.”
“And what good was he lagging a hundred years behind you?” Aylesbury fired back. “You should have brought someone else. Bugger it all, Fiona, you should have just stayed home.”
She shook her head. “How could I have anticipated this, Harry? I couldn’t have been more public!
He took me right off the course with dozens of witnesses about.
And, for your information, I didn’t plan on going with just a footman or two.
Connor promised to come along but he and Dorian came in at dawn this morning and were still sleeping off their intemperance. ”
“There are eight other men in that household who might have escorted you.”
“Though they somehow manage to flock about at the most inconvenient times, surprisingly, no one was available.” She bit her lip and glanced at him through her lashes, noting the worry darkening his brilliant eyes.
“God, Harry! Do you think I haven’t thought about it?
What this means? No one knew where I was going today but my own people.
Or yesterday? That means someone is out there watching me, watching my house and me every moment.
Yesterday, I thought it might have been pure happenstance that they managed to follow me. ”
“And after all that, you still weren’t afraid enough for your life to be more cautious?” he almost yelled at her. “You act as if this is all a game!”
“I know it isn’t a game! But no, you’re right.
I wasn’t afraid yesterday. Not even when they were chasing us,” she told him, wringing her hands.
It had only been afterwards that she had felt any fear, and it had all been for Harry.
Harry, who risked so much for her. “Because yesterday, I had some measure of control over what happened. I had you, and I had the ability to fight back. Today...Today, he took that from me.”
Tears burned at Fiona’s eyes as the thought took root, stealing her breath.
“He took that. When the blackness hit me, and I couldn’t move or fight.
..Well, you got your wish, Harry, because I was truly terrified at that moment.
I’ve never given up control of my actions before, never lost control of my life. Never lost my choices.”
“My God, Fiona, you’re shaking like a leaf. Come here, come here,” he murmured, sitting beside her and drawing her into his arms. He stroked her hair softly, calming her.
“You win,” she whispered against his shirtfront, her fingers curling into his lapels.
“Believe me, love, I don’t want to win in this. I love your strength. I love your pluck,” he whispered. “You just haven’t got a lick of sense.”
She sniffed back a watery chuckle. “Now who’s making jokes?”
“Who says I’m joking?”
Running her palm over his crushed lapel, she shook her head against his chest. She adored the strength of that chest beneath her cheek, the strong heartbeat within. The heat radiating from him, warming her.
“I hated losing control like that.”
“Yes, I imagine you did,” he whispered. “But you can take it back. I have enough faith in you to know that you will regain it.”
Warming at the thought, she lifted her head. “You do?”
“I do.” Smoothing her hair back gently, he pressed a light kiss to her lips.
Fiona melted against him, parting her lips under that tender kiss. Her hands slid up his abdomen, over the hard ripple of muscles and over his chest before she drew back with a smile. Pushing away, she stood and went to the parlor door.
“What are you doing?”
Casting a sidelong glance and seductive grin over her shoulder, she turned the lock with an audible snick. “Just what you said. I’m regaining control of my life.”
“This isn’t exactly what I meant.”
She turned, pressing her back to the door and flattening her palms against the smooth wood. “It’s working for me. Do you mind?”
Aylesbury lifted a curious brow. “Here?”
“Right here.” She nodded, reaching up to loosen her silk tie and slide it slowly off.
“Now?”
“Oh yes.”
* * *
Harry was sprawled back against the corner of the sofa, one arm across the back and one down the arm.
He looked utterly relaxed, but Fiona could see the alertness in his eyes as he watched her walk toward him.
While she felt like a huntress stalking him, he looked nothing like timid prey. Instead, he looked ready to devour her.
Unbuttoning her jacket as she went slowly onward, she stripped it off her shoulders and threw it to the side before working the buttons of her white cotton blouse.
As it opened button by button, his eyes dipped downward, caressing the swell of flesh above her camisole.
Her breasts tingled as if he had touched her already.
Leaving her blouse hanging open, she unfastened her skirt and let it fall.
She wore only one petticoat beneath it, white brushed cotton with a single flounce and only one row of red piping at the hem.
While it was a far cry from the more elaborate undergarments she’d had on the previous night, Harry didn’t seem to mind. His hand fisted on the arm of the sofa as it slid to the floor. She stepped out of it and shrugged off her blouse, tossing it at a chair.
She watched as his hot gaze swept downward over her filmy white batiste camisole and drawers, which were hemmed with a white ruffle, lace, and satin ribbon. She wore no corset, but Fiona never did when playing golf. Her stockings were also plain white.
“Is this the virginal look you were expecting last night?’ she whispered huskily as she reached up to pull the pins from her hair. Her upraised arms lifted her breasts, drawing his gaze.
Harry drew in a shuddering breath as her coral nipples pressed visibly against the sheer camisole. “You don’t look virginal at all,” he rasped as her thick hair fell over her shoulder. “But rather sinful. Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“Hell, no.” She pushed off the sofa, but Fiona held up a hand to stop him. He eased back down with a raised brow.
“No, stay right there. My control, remember?”
“Testing mine?”
She smiled, lifting her brows provocatively. “If need be.”
She pulled at the bowed ribbon between her breasts, opening her camisole to the waist. It slid off her shoulder and hung, caught on her hardened nipple.
With a groan, Harry closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the sofa, but they opened again quickly enough when Fiona tugged at another ribbon at her waist. With a shrug of her shoulder, the combination slid down, catching at her hips before dropping to the floor.
Stepping out of it, she kicked it to the side and stood before her lover in near nudity as his smoldering eyes scored her from head to toe.
Her blood surged like a firestorm through Fiona’s veins. She felt beautiful, powerful, and very much in control once more, even though she knew that that control had been granted, not won. Knowing that Harry held himself back, that he allowed her that victory and why he did it, touched her deeply.
Knowing that he could lose that control and ravish her with all the fierce hunger that he had taken her with the night before was intoxicating. Some small part wanted him to do it, to make her submit to his power.
Another part made her want to see how far she could push him before he did.
Fiona ran her hands down her hips, watching his eyes flame as they followed along.
Upward they turned, her palms skimming the front of her thighs, her flat belly that gave away nothing of the low throbbing pleasure already building within.
Up her ribcage, Harry’s breath caught and held as she cupped her breasts, her nipples hardened under his lustful gaze.
She grazed her fingers over the sensitive tips, imagining his hands on her, his body covering hers.
Her tongue darted out to wet her suddenly dry lips, and he groaned aloud.
Her hands drifted back over her belly and lower still.
“Fiona, don’t,” he ground out. “God, but you will be my undoing.”
“I hope so.”
She brushed the tangle of curls between her thighs and heard an animalistic growl before Harry was there, crushing her in his embrace, lifting her, and driving her back until she slammed none too gently against the wall.
His lips captured hers in a kiss of pure carnal hunger.
His tongue drove past her lips, plunging and retreating as his hand covered her, parting the damp curls.
Her fingers. His. Together, he forced her to touch with him, to stroke against her throbbing nub before he pushed her hand aside and curled his fingers into her pulsing wetness.