Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“What the Devil am I doing?” Algernon growled, raking a hand through his hair.
He paced alone in his room, the taste of Beatrice still on his lips.
The urge to stalk back into her quarters and have her again was great—urging him like an invisible force to drink from the well he’d instantly grown addicted to.
He’d wanted to teach her a lesson, to open her mind.
Instead, just as he had with teaching her to kiss, he’d only tortured himself.
His manhood had risen to attention the second he’d stormed into the room and saw her there.
Dressed in that nearly transparent summer nightgown, her soft brown hair curly and wild around her shoulders and smelling of the lavender oil she’d no doubt in her bath.
It had consumed him—and that was a problem.
Beatrice was not his. She was Henry’s—-or hopefully would be.
He’d pushed back his revulsion to enter that despicable place—that auction house that had made his skin crawl the moment he’d set foot in it—for Henry.
Now… he wanted her for himself. It had taken all he had to leave that room.
To stop himself from teaching her what would happen next in that book he’d given her to read.
His skin was on fire. His manhood was engorged and straining against his trousers, weeping for release.
“I cannot,” he rasped, pacing faster. “I cannot. I have gone too far already.”
Suddenly Algernon stopped his pacing, realizing that he was talking to nothing but air.
Arguing with himself like a madman. He had gone mad though.
He was sure of it. Why else would he have taken such liberties?
No man sound of mind would have done so or would have thought any part of this plan of his would work.
He was losing control, and a man who could not control himself, he knew, was dangerous. It was lack of control that caused his father to gamble away most of their fortune and caused him to believe that taking his own life was the only rational choice he had left.
He could not go mad. Not now. Not when so much hung in the balance. He had to stay away. Had to pull back and put the plan on pause until he felt himself again.
Yes. That is what he would do. He would leave the lessons up to the dance instructor and Mrs. Sheer.
Safe lessons that required no intimate touching or discussion of what two willing people could do with their bodies.
He would even leave Henry alone for a little while.
After all, too much pressure would only drive his brother away, and he’d already discovered that no matter how much he willed it, he could not force his brother into something he did not want to do.
He just had to stay away. Focus on his other responsibilities for a while. When he was better—saner—he would resume his plan.
Satisfied with his decision, Algernon tore off his clothes and climbed into bed. He willed himself to sleep—to let what had just happened go. Yet as his erection pulsed, begging him for release, he fisted his pillow with both hands, buried his head into it, and let out a harrowing roar.
This was not going to be easy.