CHAPTER 23
DIANA
Clifton lay sprawled across the bed without a stitch of clothing, his expression sated as he watched me don my chemise.
Caroline hadn’t mentioned that a man would ever put his mouth down there.
She probably hadn’t wanted to shock me after I’d balked when she told me that her husband loved it when she took him into her mouth.
At the time, I’d been horrified by the idea.
But now, with Clifton, the desire to please him had almost overwhelmed me, pushing me to give him something he’d like but might never ask for.
In the end, I’d discovered that instead of just something I was doing for him, it had increased my own desire.
The knowledge that I could do something so physically decadent…
I couldn’t explain why it had inflamed me so much, but I was beginning to realize that I enjoyed being wicked with him.
Now I was famished and a little sore.
“If you don’t hurry and get dressed, I’ll eat everything on that tray myself. We’ve been in here long enough for the tea to get cold.” I bent to pick up the pins he’d scattered earlier. I’d have to ask the maid if she could find more hairpins for me. The few I’d managed to find wouldn’t be enough.
He rose to his feet, and I resisted the urge to turn and stare. “I can survive lukewarm tea if you can. And please leave your hair down.”
I hesitated then shrugged. We weren’t going anywhere tonight, so it didn’t really matter. I dropped the pins onto the dressing table and headed into the other room.
When Clifton emerged from the bedroom, he was wearing only his trousers.
I’d poured the tea, which was indeed lukewarm, but I didn’t mind.
He lowered himself onto the settee next to me, his body radiating heat.
If I leaned just a little to the left, we’d be pressed against one another.
But that way lay danger, and I needed to get some food in me before I fainted from hunger.
Clifton was piling his plate with food. “I thought you were hungry?”
He turned to look at me, and my cheeks heated when he caught me staring at the broad expanse of his muscular chest. I’d mapped his entire body with my hands, but I was still endlessly fascinated with all the ways in which he was so different from me.
He raised a brow then handed me the plate he’d prepared.
With a shrug, I took it and thanked him. Then I added, “You can’t blame me.”
He grinned before preparing his own plate. “Eat up, Diana. I have plans for you afterward.”
I shivered at the clear warning but began to devour my food.
“Diana.”
I didn’t need to open my eyes to know it was morning. A shaft of sunlight was trying to blind me through my closed eyelids.
“I’m too sore,” I mumbled. I hated denying him, but he’d woken me several times during the night. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to walk straight again.
He hummed, a sound I suspected he meant to sound sympathetic but which was undeniably smug. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, stroking one hand along my spine. “I arranged for a warm bath.”
Those magic words had me rolling over and struggling to sit up. Had I slept through maids bringing in a tub and warm water? When I didn’t see the promised bath, I narrowed my eyes on Clifton. “Where?”
He grinned. By way of reply, he lifted me into his arms and carried me to the outer room. There, in front of the windows, sat a copper tub, steam billowing up from its depths.
He lowered me into the water. I had only a moment to bask in the warmth settling into my muscles when I realized he was stripping down to climb in after me.
“I’m still sore,” I said. But we both knew he could bring me to my peak without entering me.
He picked up the washcloth and bar of soap sitting on the window ledge. “I’ll make it all better.”
And heaven help me, he did.
We stayed in that little cottage two more days before it was time to return to England.
Clifton made several short trips to the inn, arranging for meals and making preparations for our departure.
He also wrote several letters during that time.
I knew one of them was to his mother, and I couldn’t help but worry how she’d receive the news about our elopement to Gretna Green.
I felt a little guilty for making the staff go to the extra trouble of going back and forth between the cottage and the inn when we could just as well have eaten in the inn’s common room.
Or even in a private dining room. Since moving to live with the Tuttlefords, I’d gotten used to ensuring I wasn’t a nuisance to anyone.
But when Clifton insisted, I didn’t argue.
I vowed to enjoy this time when it was just the two of us.
Soon enough, he’d be spending all his free time at King’s with his friends again, doing whatever it was that men did when they were forced to marry a woman they didn’t love.
During this brief interlude, I could pretend that ours would be a happy marriage.
It was an easy delusion because Clifton hadn’t said anything that indicated he resented having to marry me.
When the day of our departure dawned, I distracted Clifton with a request for another bath. It might be the last time we ever shared such an intimacy together.
Afterward, a young man delivered a small trunk. Clifton thanked him and turned to me. “I’ve managed to procure a few dresses for you. The innkeeper’s wife said that one of the maids was of a similar size and she tried them on to make sure they’d fit. I hope you don’t mind.”
Clifton appeared genuinely concerned, and I felt my heart turn over. It hit me then, like a sudden strike of lightning, that I was in love with him. Foolishly, hopelessly in love.
I forced back the uncomfortable realization that this man had the power to hurt me far more than my aunt and uncle had ever done. I couldn’t expect him to love me. It would have to be enough that he was kind and seemed to enjoy my company.
For now, at least.
I threw myself into his arms. “It is more than I expected,” I said, pulling back to smile up at him. “Thank you.”
“We’ll make our way south by carriage this time. And no more sleeping while on the road. The trip to Hampshire should take a week. Did you want to change into one of the new dresses now?”
I laughed. “We’ve already dallied this morning. If I take off my clothes again, we might never leave.”
His grin was decidedly wicked. “That wouldn’t be a bad thing.”
No, it wouldn’t. But I needed to put some distance between us. If we made love again, I feared I’d blurt out my feelings for him. They were too close to the surface, wanting to escape, and I didn’t think I’d be able to handle his pity.
“I think we’ve kept your mother waiting long enough.”
He frowned. “She’ll be less than pleased that I eloped. But I’m sure she’ll forgive me. I’ve made her wildest dreams a reality, after all.”
And mine. But I could never say that out loud.