Chapter One #3
Edward offered her the plate of meat and she stole another piece, chewing on it slowly. The food tasted better, eating it with her fingers, in his company. Intimate, somehow. ‘It’s not so bad, though—this place,’ she said. ‘As you can see, the food is especially good.’
He laughed. ‘That it is. But what would you do if you did not have to work here?’ he questioned softly. ‘I have told you my dream. What is yours?’
She tucked her legs up beneath her. ‘Don’t laugh.’
‘Never,’ he said, pulling a serious face.
She smiled shyly. ‘I have wanted to draw for as long as I can remember—to make a living from my sketches. I always wished I’d have a drawing of mine in the Royal Academy exhibition one day.’
He sat up. ‘You are an artist?’
‘When I have the time.’
He reached out to take hold of her fingers and turned them over. ‘That explains this,’ he said, studying the charcoal beneath her nails.
She felt her cheeks heat at his scrutiny—and at his gentle, searing touch.
‘I tried painting in Paris once, but it was not really my thing. I was terrible at it. What do you draw?’ he asked.
‘Anything and everything. Portraits. Landscapes.’
‘Well, here’s to not giving up on our dreams,’ he said, releasing her from his hold and raising the bottle in the air. She clinked it with her glass.
‘To following our hearts,’ she said, that very organ hammering in her chest as their eyes held for a long moment. ‘Tell me what it’s like, your world…’ she said, feeling more confident now and ready to learn more about him.
She enjoyed the sound of Edward’s deep velvety voice as he talked about the endless balls and assemblies, and he made her laugh as he explained what the mothers in the ton were like—and his and his brother’s attempts to escape their clutches.
She appreciated the way he listened in return, wanting to know about her life at the inn, too, as if it was just as interesting.
It felt good to be heard. She was in awe when he spoke of his travels around Europe—of him seeing the ruins in Rome and the treasures of the papacy, the opulence of the opera and the vivid sights and sounds of the carnival in Venice. Places she longed to see one day.
‘But this feels like real freedom,’ he said. ‘Sitting here, sharing this supper with you, away from the prying eyes of my father and Society for one night. You are so easy to talk to. I have never met anyone like you, Bea.’
A warm flush rushed through her body at his compliment and she rested her head against the bed, turning to face him.
His body curved towards her, his head just inches away.
His warm breath fluttered across her face and he was so close she could see the various shades of blue in his eyes.
They had an intensity to them that drew her in.
He was right—it was rare to feel like this.
To experience such an instant connection to someone you had just met.
‘You know, I have never wanted to kiss someone so badly, to find out if your lips are as soft as they look,’ he said carefully.
She ran her tongue over the very lips he was talking about, possibility—and his unspoken question—lingering in the air. She swallowed. She ran her hands through the silky pile of the woollen rug. ‘Why don’t you then?’ she whispered unsteadily.
Edward’s hand came up to cup her jaw, and slowly, he drew her face towards him, his thumb stroking her cheek.
Her eyelids fluttered shut and she held her breath as his warm lips placed the softest kiss against the corner of her mouth, sending a shiver through her body.
Slowly, he kissed the other corner, and the gesture made her feel cherished.
When he finally pressed his lips fully against hers, soft and lingering, she was ready for it.
It was her first kiss—and it was better than she could have ever imagined it would be.
When his hand came down to settle on her waist, his touch burning her skin through her gown, to gather her closer to him, she wondered if she should tell him to stop, but she didn’t want to—she revelled in the feeling of being held in his strong embrace.
That a man such as he should want to hold her.
Gently, Edward lowered her to the ground, kissing her again, this time coaxing her mouth open, so his tongue could sweep inside, and as he deepened the kiss, she made a greedy sound from the back of her throat, her hands bravely stealing over his broad shoulders, her fingers delving into his short hair, luxuriating in the glorious feel of it at the nape of his neck.
He pulled away a little to look down at her.
‘How much brandy have you had?’ he said, a frown darkening his brow. ‘I do not want to take advantage of you, Bea.’
She knew what he was asking, but whether it was the flattery, or the fantasy of the situation, she couldn’t be sure, she just knew she wanted to pursue this closeness to him and this new, heated excitement she was experiencing.
She didn’t want the clock to strike midnight and reality to encroach. Not yet.
She clasped her hands around his neck and pulled him back down for another seeking, swirling kiss, his tongue entwining with hers, stroking her, caressing her, before his mouth moved to steal over her jaw and down the column of her throat.
Her hands gripping his hair, she became restless with need, eager for more, and as if he could tell, his large, confident hand smoothed down to curve over her breast, squeezing gently, kneading her flesh through the thick cotton of her gown.
She writhed beneath him, arching into him, and when his thumb flicked over her taut nipple, she gasped softly.
‘It would feel better without these clothes in the way,’ he whispered. ‘What do you say, can we take this off?’
She nodded, hesitantly, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth, nervous now, as he tugged her onto her side so his expert fingers could loosen the ties at the back of her gown.
He didn’t remove his gaze from hers, building her trust as one by one he loosened the ribbons before skilfully pushing the material off her shoulders, effortlessly sliding the sleeves down her arms. Her skin erupted in goose bumps at coming into contact with the air and his warm kisses.
He peeled the gown away from her breasts and she drew in a breath at the exposure—the first shy reveal of her body to a man, and his eyes dipped.
‘My God, Bea, you are so lovely,’ he said, his voice full of reverence. ‘I thought it from the first moment I saw you standing there in the road. No wonder I crashed my carriage!’
She laughed, her entire body blushing with pleasure at his compliment. It helped calm her fears. She tentatively reached for the buttons on his shirt, wanting to see his body too, but her trembling fingers fumbled, failing her, and he brought his steady hands up to help.