Chapter Twenty-Three
Eleanor wasn’t entirely certain she hadn’t fallen into a dream.
Over the last days…as she’d searched for the viscount at every outing and never saw a hint of him, she’d forced herself to accept that the interlude they’d shared had been nothing but a wild fantasy.
An experience disconnected from reality.
Otherwise, she was forced to consider the very real consequences she preferred to ignore.
Obviously, tonight was simply an extension of that imaginary world.
It couldn’t be possible that there had just been a dangerous intruder in her garden.
Surely, the viscount hadn’t rushed in to save her like some guardian knight.
She hadn’t just agreed to allow him to sleep only a room away from her own bed.
And there was absolutely no possible way that he was currently pulling her into his arms in the middle of the night in her private sitting room.
None of it was real. None of it made any sense at all. It was all just an odd, fantastical, lovely dream. Fancies of her desperately yearning imagination.
As she softened against him, sliding her arms around his neck and pressing her body to his, she accepted that she was quite content to drown in such imaginings if it meant she could feel as she did now.
Elated. Trembling. Hot and filled with delicate craving.
His mouth, when it covered hers, was consuming. His kiss, passionate and fierce and shameless. Though a lord of a fine family, he was no gentleman in that moment. He was hungry. Possessive. And so very generous.
He gave her life with his kiss.
The thrust of his tongue and the edge of his teeth inspired a rush of beautiful and powerful sensations.
Having lived so many years within the strict confines of her upbringing and the expectations of her family and future, this felt like the finest liberation.
When with the viscount, Eleanor became unfettered and free.
To feel as she did. To be who she was. To do what felt right in her blood without anyone else’s voice in her ear warning against consequences.
Dammit. If she wanted to feel the viscount’s mouth moving over hers, then she’d press her lips to his. If she craved the sensation of his large, strong, warm body, she’d bloody well wrap her arms around him and pull him close.
And—as she melted into the decadence of his hot wet kiss—if the tingling race of fire through her veins made her want more, she’d…
Well, what would she do? How brave and bold was she, really?
As his hands smoothed—heavy and firm and broad—up and down her back, molding the muscles of her shoulders and squeezing her waist before easing down to grip her buttocks and hold her hips firmly to his, Eleanor drew slightly back from the kiss.
Her breath was swift and her eyelids heavy.
The hard heat of his arousal was shamelessly evident against her belly. But it didn’t distress her. Not as it probably should have. It was all a dream, remember.
Knowing that he desired her—wanted her—perhaps, needed her…was an empowering aphrodisiac.
Not that she required one.
Everything inside her was already trembling in want. Her nerves were singing. Her pulse fluttering. Her body already molten with desire. Was she supposed to just walk away?
Removing one arm from around his neck, she reached down to grasp his wrist behind her back. Without saying anything, she gave a soft tug as she stepped out of his arms. Then she turned and led him across the sitting room and into her bedroom.
Aside from the brief movement as he twisted his wrist to clasp her hand possessively in his, he followed biddably.
But she suspected his momentary compliance had its limits. As did her sudden bravery. Once they reached her bed, she’d need him to take control again.
Her knowledge also had its limits.
She knew the gist of what carnal actions occurred between lovers. Her cousins were both fonts of information in that regard. Each in their own way, of course. But she had never cared to know about the act in greater detail. She’d always felt that such knowledge would come in its own time.
No doubt Waring knew quite a bit about such things. His charm, his travels, his wealth, and handsomeness…had all likely contributed to a lifetime of experiences.
That realization sobered her.
Pausing at the foot of her grand bed set nearly in the middle of her candlelit bedroom, Eleanor stopped. Her heart raced and her belly twisted. All of a sudden, she couldn’t seem to bring herself to face the viscount.
After throwing herself into his arms, practically begging for a kiss, then leading him to her bedroom, she’d completely lost whatever daring she’d claimed in those brief moments.
Did she think herself a poised and sophisticated lady? A woman of experience and knowledge?
She was neither. And she’d never felt so out of her depth as she did just then.
But she wanted him. So badly. This experience was for her alone. It had nothing to do with her place in the world or her family or the ducal legacy or cursed necklaces.
She wanted this for herself. But she had no idea how to move forward.
*
Phin felt her sudden withdrawal. It wasn’t a physical thing. She didn’t try to pull her hand from his or attempt to put distance between them.
It was far more subtle than that. But no less real and poignant.
Releasing her hand, he stood quiet and unmoving.
His entire body had burst into a fury of elation when she’d taken his hand to lead him to her bed. Lust and yearning and the darkest anticipation had flowed through him in an endless cycle, feeding each other. But he’d quiet it all and walk away if that was what she wanted.
Even after appearing so certain just a moment ago, he understood the complexities of what she was deciding.
It was never simple for a woman.
Most things rarely were.
If he were more of a gentleman, he’d have stepped away from her, given her space, perhaps even left the room entirely.
Phin wasn’t that noble.
He’d never been one to shy away from something he wanted. And he wasn’t afraid of putting in the proper effort to acquire what he desired. Whether it be a skill, some challenging outcome, or a woman.
But with Eleanor…it felt different.
His prior lovers had been women of experience, in possession of freedoms and independence that were not possible for the daughter of a duke.
What they wanted of each other had consequences.
He didn’t want to assure her with a flashing grin or witty compliments.
He didn’t want his practiced charm or seductive kisses to win her over.
He wanted full honesty. Or nothing.
“Eleanor.” The soft murmur of her name brought her shoulders up with subtle tension. But she did not turn around.
Phin cleared his throat and tried to form the necessary words. “I am not meant for marriage.”
She made a soft sound that might have been a gentle snort or a quickly smothered laugh. Though she turned her head slightly to the side, she kept her back to him.
“I like to travel,” he explained. “No. I crave travel. And adventure. I’m rarely in England for long and am often gone for months or years at a time.
That’s not the type of husband or father anyone deserves and I’m content to allow my title and inheritance to settle along another family line.
” He paused, his throat oddly tight. He’d never tried to explain himself to anyone before.
It felt awkward. Discomforting and vulnerable.
“I would not wish to mislead you or hurt you in any way. I respect you and admire you and…” his voice roughened with gravel, “I want you right now more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
But I know you have much more to risk in this moment than I do.
And I’ll leave you now if that is your wish. ”
“It’s not,” she replied quickly before tensing her jaw and pressing her lips together.
Her denial gave him a moment of relief, but it didn’t last long as she finally turned to face him. Her expression was carefully controlled as she tilted her head to the side and arched a brow. “You’re quite arrogant, you know,” she said in a soft, even tone.
A scowled tugged at Phin’s brow. He wasn’t sure how to respond to that.
“What made you think I had any interest in marrying you?”
“I…” he started, then stopped. “I assumed—”
“Well don’t,” she interrupted. “I desire you.” Though her statement was strong, he noted the heightened color in her cheeks. He’d wager anything she’d never uttered such a phrase before. “But marriage is something else entirely. I’m capable of keeping the two separate.”
“But I thought—”
“Perhaps you shouldn’t do that, either,” she retorted, a faint smile starting to lift the corner of her mouth.
Phin chuckled, appreciating that she felt comfortable enough to tease him. “Indeed. Overthinking had never really gotten me anywhere in the past. I’m much better at action.”
Her exquisite features formed into an undeniably challenging expression. “Prove it.”
Lust flared bright in his blood at her provoking words. His stomach tightened and his cock pulsed.
In one long stride, he scooped her into his arms, lifting and dropping her to her bed. Her gasp of shock filled the room as she landed softly on her back, her skirts flown up nearly to her knees. Anticipation sparked bright in her gaze.
It was on the tip of Phin’s tongue to tell her how beautiful she looked in that moment. Slightly surprised, breathless, waiting for what he’d do next. But he couldn’t risk saying anything that might shadow that sparkle in her eyes.
Still, she had to know what she did to him.
“You weaken me,” he finally muttered. When shock flickered over her face, he continued roughly, “I’m not usually uncertain—you were quite right about my arrogance,” he noted with a half smile. “But you make me feel…undeserving,” he finished on a ragged whisper.
She shook her head. “No, don’t…please.”
“I didn’t say it would stop me,” he noted with a rueful grin. “I want this far too much for that.”
Her voice was pleading as she started to push herself up. “Don’t put me on a pedestal. I always fall.”
Before she could fully sit up, Phin set his knee to the mattress, between her ankles. Then he leaned forward to brace his hands on either side of her hips as he held himself over her.
She exhaled and softened back onto the bed with her arms bent and hands resting palm up on each side of her head. It was a subtly submissive position. Accepting.
A hard weight dropped from his chest to loins.
“Not a pedestal, sweetheart, solitary and alone.” He answered gruffly. “I’d give you wings. To fly as far and high as you dream of going. But you must know…I’d happily worship you.”
For some reason, that last bit caused a flash of something in her eyes before she narrowed them with a sweep of sooty lashes. She curled her lips with a subtle awakening wickedness. “That sounds…interesting,” she whispered.
Phin chuckled. Then asked in a graveled tone, “What do want of me first, princess?”