Hilde
She drew him past the bed and over to a settee near the fire.
She settled onto it, then experienced a queasy wave of self-consciousness.
The thing she had said to him, about what she wanted…
she had never even thought anything like that in the privacy of her own mind!
And now she was naked and he was not, and he was looking at her.
She was not accustomed to being looked at with such intensity.
She had no idea what she was going to do with him!
As if sensing her sudden anxiety, he took her hand, running a thumb along the back of it in a way that made her shiver.
He gazed down at her, then settled himself over her body.
He kissed her again, more deeply than they had kissed before, and she lost herself in it, letting go of all reason and objection and guilt and everything else that plagued her mind day in and day out. She gave herself up to it.
Even in surrendering, she resisted closing her eyes, hungry for the sight of him.
With his face so close to hers, and so heartrendingly open to her, she could finally see little things that she had not allowed herself to notice before, even when she’d drawn him over and over again, trying to capture whatever it was that made him so compelling.
The way his eyes had lines at the corners that crinkled when he smiled at her, which he did as if he could not help himself every time their gazes met.
The way his cheeks and lips flushed with color as they kissed.
The broad, lean lines of his shoulders as he held himself above her.
He was so beautiful that there would never come a time when she had looked her fill.
She wished to touch him as well as look at him, but her frantic pawing at his clothes did not seem to be getting her anywhere closer to his skin, for he would not cooperate, so fixated he seemed to be on getting his own hands on every inch of her.
It was as though he were conducting a survey of her person, determining which of her hills and valleys had suitable terrain to build upon.
And build he did, single-mindedly plotting out a road of intense sensation that ran from her edges to her core.
She had been so certain he would ignore what she had asked for and take whatever he wanted. She had asked so impulsively, hardly knowing why she wanted it, or if it was the right thing to want. Anything he did would have been more than enough.
But that wasn’t what happened. He never even took off his own clothing.
After kissing her senseless, he proceeded to slide his way slowly down her body, hands everywhere, until he came to rest between her thighs.
Then he proceeded to give her exactly what she had asked for—and more that she had not imagined to.
It was almost too much. It had always been difficult for her to fully and truly inhabit her body in moments of intimacy, rather than having at least some part of her observe from the safe distance of her mind.
But Elmwood made it impossible for her to stay at a remove.
When his mouth pressed against her, it demanded her to feel rather than to think.
She gave in to it, relinquishing control, arching mindlessly into his touch until pleasure overcame her.
Afterward, he lay with his head resting on her belly, swirling his fingertips idly up and down her thigh.
Somewhat dazed, she ran her fingers through his hair.
She had pulled it with both hands some minutes earlier and hoped her grip had not been too hard.
Aside from that, she’d barely touched him.
She wanted to touch him, and as she slowly moved back into a state where she could think again, she realized that he must be expecting her to return the favor.
She tugged a little on his shirt. “Elmwood, do you want to…” She trailed off. It was a bit late to be shy, but she wasn’t certain how to put it, unaccustomed as she was to discussing more complex logistics of pleasure.
“Do I want to what?” he asked, not lifting his head from her belly. He gave her an encouraging smile, and she thought that perhaps there was a bit of teasing in it as well.
“Well,” she said, “to finish, I suppose?”
He chuckled then, pressing his face against her. It ought to be embarrassing, but it somehow wasn’t. She found herself laughing a little with him.
“You say that as though it is an exchange. There is no requirement for me to finish, as you put it. Though I am not opposed to having another go and seeing where it takes us.” He placed several kisses on the crease where her thigh met her belly, which was enormously distracting.
“Indeed, there is nothing I would like better, but I think we had best discuss something first.” He scooted farther up and propped himself up on one elbow so they could see each other’s faces clearly in the flickering light of the hearth.
“What topic did you have in mind?” she asked, skimming her fingers lightly down his free arm, which was now draped across her.
It was covered in a down of hair so pale it was almost invisible.
He shivered at the touch. She wanted to make him shiver until his whole body quaked with the pleasure of it.
“You said at dinner that you wish to remain childless. I am of the same mind. If we are to continue this, and I very much hope we shall, I think we must set some boundaries to avoid acting against our own wishes.”
“Oh,” she said, quite shocked by his directness.
She supposed that she ought to be forthright in return, even though the thought of it made her uneasy.
He knew she had a Charm, and she didn’t think he would judge her for using it for this, but she had never spoken of it before.
She had never really allowed herself to even think too long about it.
But now, considering it after her experiment with the cut on her finger, it seemed fascinating.
Would Elmwood think so, or would he find it distasteful?
She braced herself and said, “I will tell you, then, that worrying about that is not necessary. I can…that is, it has been my practice to use my Charm to bring on my courses, if necessary.”
His expression lit up with something akin to delight. It surprised her even more than his bluntness had. She had assumed that Elmwood would at the very least be mildly squeamish about it. She certainly had not expected him to be pleased.
“Really? How does it work?” he said.
She let out a relieved breath.
“I don’t know precisely. I expect that it freshens the chamber where a babe takes hold, causing the blood to shed. I discovered it by accident.”
“Does it hurt?” Elmwood asked.
“What? Oh, no. No more than usual, that is. When my courses come on their own.”
“How marvelous,” he said, and he sounded as though he meant it.
He caught her hand in his free one and lifted it up to his face, kissing her open palm.
It reminded her of the other things his mouth had been up to, and she found she also had a topic that she was curious about, while they were being blunt.
“I’ve never…that is, what you did with your mouth…Where did you learn such a thing?”
He laughed, pressing her hand to his cheek and closing his eyes.
“It was rather unusual, is all!” she said, wishing now that she had not brought it up. “I mean to say, no one had ever…stop laughing at me!”
To his credit, he sobered immediately, looking a bit grim, and she was sorry she had chided him.
“It’s not at all unusual,” he said. “And it’s an absolute crime that you think it is, since you clearly enjoy it and frankly have such a lovely cunny that I’m considering purchasing a villa in its environs so that I can visit it at my leisure.”
She laughed then, and it seemed to soothe his upset. But he had not answered her question, and she was still curious.
“I suppose you’ve had quite a basis for comparison. Is it rude to ask how many people you’ve been with?” she said.
“I don’t mind the question, but I haven’t got an answer for you. Let’s just say I’ve never been short willing partners.”
“Men and women?”
He tilted his head back.
“Yes. Do you mind?”
“No. Though I do wonder…that is, if you like men and women, I would think you’d be attracted to people who look as though they could be either…wouldn’t you? Whereas I am…um, quite womanly.”
“Yes, you are,” he said, leering at her.
“Well, then?” she prompted, resolved to learn more about him.
His brow furrowed, like he was carefully considering her question.
“I suppose I find all sorts of bodies attractive. The way a person is configured…well, it matters, of course, but it is not the most important thing to me.”
“It isn’t?”
“Is it to you?” he asked, sounding not judgmental but curious.
“I don’t think I know,” she said quietly. When would she have had the opportunity to determine such a thing?
He reached up and stroked a hand through her hair, pulling ever so gently when it tangled. After a few more caresses, she found the courage to ask, “What is the most important thing, then?”
Still focused on touching her, he absently said, “I suppose I am always hoping for someone who will be kind to me, and make me forget for a little while how much I ought to despise myself.” He stopped short, as if he hadn’t meant to confess that.
“Not to mention, someone who will blackmail me with great panache and zeal. That’s always top of the list.”
She saw what he had done, how he had shifted to a jest. It was not a joking matter. She had been poised to manipulate him a second time, and he ought to know that. She should have told him the full truth of it when she apologized. Perhaps he would not have wanted her, if he had known.
“I was going to try again. With Rollo. Then I couldn’t bear to do it,” she blurted, turning her face to the back of the settee so she wouldn’t have to see him be disgusted by her.
He pulled her chin back toward him, and when she looked at him, there was nothing on his face save tenderness.
“You say the most romantic things, Lady Croft,” he said, and kissed her, and she knew he had forgiven her yet again.
The grace of it left her breathless.
“I think, given what has transpired between us, that I must ask you to call me Hilde,” she said.
“Hilde.” Then he rose up to lean over her, staring down into her eyes. “Hilde,” he said again, his voice rough.
It was as though someone had pulled the critical stone from a dam inside her that had been slowly leaking for months, and suddenly all the water was rushing through. Only instead of water, it was feeling. All this feeling, from her name in a man’s mouth?
It would not be denied. Tears sprang from nowhere, pouring down her face, and she sobbed.
She sat up to avoid choking and perhaps to hide, but Elmwood immediately shifted to sit beside her, rubbing small circles on her back. He managed to produce one of her shawls and wrapped it about her shoulders, and the gesture only made her cry harder.
She cried and cried, until it stopped. What a way to behave, after he had been so…perfect. He was perfect, and she was ruining it.
“I’m sorry,” she said at last. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. Better to let it out. Come here.” He pulled her against his chest. She could hear the beating of his heart. “I only hope you don’t regret…”
“No,” she said quickly. “It’s not that. Truly.”
It was everything else.
“That is a relief,” he said. “I’m afraid that even if you were to regret it, I could not. It is quite possibly the single best thing that has ever happened to me.”
“That seems unlikely, but it is a lovely thing to say.”
His fingers pressed against her chin, and he tilted her face to his, then kissed both of her cheeks where the tears had dampened them. “It’s true, Hilde,” he said.
There was a loud thump from the next room.
They both tensed.
“She can’t still be poking about, can she?” Hilde whispered, trying to recall how loud she had been when…
“What can she be doing in there? Dancing with the bear? That reminds me, why do you have a room full of horrible taxidermy? It’s not enough to put me off you altogether, but it isn’t exactly attractive,” said Elmwood, belying his words by grabbing a fistful of her hip.
“Well, I didn’t collect it! Like Merewyth, this place was used as a glorified hunting lodge for years and years, and it sort of accumulated over time. That bear is old enough to be your great-grandfather.”
“So, the perfect age for our Miss Floret, eh? I was onto something there…”
“Do be serious. I suppose I had better go and see what she’s up to.”
Hilde searched for something to wear, ruling out the pile of damp shift that was still on the floor where she’d dropped it.
She settled for the velvet surcoat she’d discarded after dinner, which was lying on the bed.
The inside of it was rather itchy without her shift and stays and petticoats as a buffer, but at least it was decent.
There was nothing she could do about her wild hair.
“Try to be quiet,” she whispered to Elmwood, and then she went and unlatched the door into Thorgoode’s retiring room.
It was empty. A candelabra was burning on the table.
“Hello?” she called. No one responded, so she crossed to the door into her study, which was standing open.
The fire had burned down to coals, so the room was fairly dark, but even so, she could see there was no one there. She crossed to the door into the hallway and locked it.
“Is she still lurking about?” whispered Elmwood from the doorway.
He was disheveled, to say the least, and it was absolutely glorious on him, as though having love-mussed hair, untucked garments, and swollen lips was his most natural state.
She decided she would like to test that theory and see if perhaps he’d look even better with no garments at all.
It struck her then that this was total madness.
She had not decided to do this. She had not calculated the risks and benefits of bedding this honey-tongued menace of a man in her own chambers with a house full of guests, including his betrothed, whom she had this very night advised to not push him and to trust that he would one day come to love her.
She had not considered what it would mean about herself, her marriage, her reputation, or her future. Or his future, for that matter.
“What is it?” he said, stepping forward, clearly distressed by her expression.
She was saved from having to reply by another loud thump. It was coming, once again, from Thorgoode’s retiring room. She crossed quickly to the door, and they both peered into the room together.
“What in the…” Elmwood began to say.
He didn’t finish because Rollo came bursting out of the badger display, bouncing happily toward them, a dismembered badger leg held tight in his jaw.