Chapter 12 #2
“I can’t sleep either,” he admitted, crossing to her. “The more time I spend with you, the more I want to spend time with you. And it’s growing more and more painful to leave when I have to send you home. I wish you could come live at Heron House,” he said.
She sucked in a soft breath, plunking her cup down. “Is that what you really want?”
“Of course it’s what I really want,” he said, taking her hands in his. “Why do you think that I spend so much time with you now? Every day? So many hours?”
“Because you feel guilty,” she rushed.
“Why in God’s name would I feel guilty?” he asked, shocked. “I’ve done nothing but help you.”
She frowned, clearly desperate for any reason that he might not truly want her. “Well, guilt is perhaps the wrong word,” she explained. “You feel bad for me that my engagement ended so badly and that I—”
“Cease,” he urged, pulling her towards him, savoring the feel of her dressing gown caressing his trousers.
“I don’t know what story you’ve created in your brain.
But Alice, I am not in the habit of pitying ladies so badly that I would throw my freedom away for them.
There are other ways I could have helped you than offer to marry you, or even spend so much time with you, and try to gain admittance to you through your servant’s door. You understand that, don’t you?”
“No,” she said softly, gazing up at him through her lashes. “Not really.”
“Well, first of all, to be clear,” he began, freeing one hand so that he could trace the line of her jaw, “the duke and I made certain that the marquess was sent off to an island. You know that. I wanted to punish the man who hurt you. And that was done.”
She nodded.
“As to the things I could have done to help you?” he murmured, trailing his knuckles gently over her cheek. “I could have found another man to ask you to marry him. I could have found you a house. I could have found you a position. I could have just given you ten thousand pounds.”
She gapped, then coughed. “You could have given me what?”
He grinned, rather enjoying her shock. “Do you have any idea how much money I have?”
“Apparently not,” she returned.
He slid his hand into the hair at the nape of her neck, studying her face.
“My mother has a remarkable fortune. And of course, Briarwoods have a great deal of money. But most of it is entailed into the duke’s lands.
But since my mother is an heiress”—he waggled his brows—“I have more money than God. My grandfather is one of the wealthiest men of the kingdom, possibly even wealthier than the Duke of Westleigh, though I’m not entirely certain. ”
Her brows drew together. “So you could have just paid me off to secure my future. And you could have gone off on your honorable way, having done a good turn to a lady you barely knew without the offer of marriage. Is that it?”
“Yes,” he said honestly. “I could have, but I didn’t want to. I don’t want to. I want to be with you. And every day that I’m with you, I want to be with you more.”
Tears filled her eyes. “You’re such a surprise. You’re nothing like a rake at all.”
“Perhaps that’s because you’ve taught me to be different,” he growled softly, hardly daring to believe how she had transformed his heart.
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“This whole adventure has been a sort of school, hasn’t it?” he offered. “We’ve both learned, haven’t we? You have schooled me that going out every night, drinking brandy, gambling, and watching my fellow lords throw their lives away on dissipation is appalling and hollow.”
“Well, what about all the ladies you spend your time with?” she asked, pulling back ever so slightly.
“There have been no ladies, Alice,” he said. “Not since I met you. The world is full of wonderful ladies, but none of them are for me. You are. You have schooled my heart from the moment I met you. You have been teaching it lessons.”
“Oh,” she gasped, her face transforming with awe. “I see. And do you think that you might school me now in turn?”
He swallowed, his heart pounding. “I need you to be a little bit clearer.”
“Tell me the real reason why you were waiting outside,” she said, her gaze meeting his before her lips twitched. “Were you going to try to scale my house?”
“It occurred to me,” he replied, “but I didn’t want to break my neck.”
“Why were you going to try to come into the servants’ entrance?”
“Because there’s nowhere that I can be alone with you,” he said, no longer willing to hide how he felt or what he desired. “And, Alice, I want to be alone with you.”
Alice had never felt so like a woman, so completely powerful, as when she took Deimos’s hand in hers and led him up the servants’ stairs to her room.
They slipped inside the dark chamber, illuminated only by the fire in the grate.
It was a small chamber, the bed sufficient and adorned with pale linens.
The townhouse wasn’t terribly grand, but it was appointed in a warm way.
She let the door snick shut behind them and paused for a single moment, her hand still on the brass handle.
She could sense him behind her, his powerful form.
And the skin along her back tingled beneath her night rail and robe.
Soon, he would see her. Soon, he would touch her. Her whole body felt alive. Impossibly alive and aching for him.
Slowly, she turned to face him. Given their height difference, she had to tilt her head back quite a bit.
She held up her hand, and he pressed his slowly to it.
For a long moment, they stood in silence, hands pressed together, warm palms aligning, but then he took their hands and wound them at the small of her back.
It arched her into him and was shockingly intimate.
His dark hair trailed over his brow as he lowered his mouth and took hers in a wild kiss.
It was all she wanted and more. Oh, she loved that he could be slow and tender, but now she wanted intensity.
And how he gave it to her.
Their mouths danced together, their bodies angled into each other, and she let out a moan as she felt his hard sex press into her belly.
He relinquished her hand and then slid his hands over her back, then up to the tie at her throat. Without breaking the kiss, he slipped the knot free, then worked the garment from her body.
When she stood in naught but her night rail, she felt as if she was burning. As if the item of clothing was far too much. She reached to pull it off, and he helped her, guiding the fabric up and over her head.
Much to her delight, he didn’t pause to look at her. No, he began tearing at his own clothes. Boots, coat, cravat—all of them were quickly whipped away. Then his waistcoat, his shirt, his breeches.
His towering form should have been intimidating, and yet when he pulled her to him so that their skin met, she felt completely safe, completely desired.
This was what he had wanted. For them to feel as one and she loved it. The warm feel of him was heaven. He was so hard, the opposite of her own form. She reveled in his shoulders. The grooves of how his sinew met bones.
Her hands slid over his skin, unable to fathom how big he was.
When he swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed, he set her down on the edge.
His gaze was all but feral, but he went slow as he kissed her once upon the mouth, then kissed the line of her throat. He pressed her thighs open, exposing her most intimate spot. Instinctually, she tried to close them, but a soft growl of hunger from him stopped her.
She wanted this. Him. She wanted to be close to him. To feel this. To know what this was like. What he was like. She’d wanted this since she’d met him.
That was the truth, and there was no point in denying it any longer.
At her easing under his touch, he tilted her head back and nibbled where her neck met her shoulder. He kissed and cupped her breasts before skimming her ribs. He gently kissed her stomach, took her hips in his hands, then lowered his head between her thighs.
Her eyes darted open with shock as he pressed gentle kisses to her inner thighs, then took her soft, most intimate place into his mouth.
She jolted at the feel of it. There was nothing like it. She never could have imagined it. And once he began to unspool a wicked desire deep within her with his tongue, she slid her hands into his thick hair and held on for dear life.
She could scarce draw breath as he worked his magic upon her, and before she knew what was happening, her insides coiled, rippled, and sang with bliss.
She called out his name and a low growl of satisfaction slipped past his lips as he stood and then maneuvered her back on the bed with ease.
She scrambled back, eager to see what was next. He looked magnificent, powerful, all for her and driven by his hunger.
And yet…she could see it. He cared about her. This was no mere conquest for him. This was more.
He locked gazes with her as he braced himself, carefully placing himself between her thighs.
“Hold on,” he rumbled.
Doing as he bid, she placed her hands on his shoulders and trusted. Trusted him with everything she had.
And he knew it. It was there in the way he gently rocked against her opening and stroked her body with a gentleness that somehow defied all his strain.
“I—I need…” he bit out.
And somehow, she knew deep in her primitive soul what he needed, and she raised a leg and hooked it over his hip. His eyes flared, her welcome overcoming any reticence, and he drove home.
There was the briefest flash of pain and then there was only him. Only Deimos filling her, stroking her, taking her, until she was holding on tight, riding his storm of passion, and then… She was swept up in it too, making love to him now as much as he was to her.
And just when she was certain she could bear no more tension, her body shimmered with light, and he, in turn, called out her name, groaning as she rippled over and over around his hard sex. Pleasure took them and made them one, forged together in passion.
Forged together in adventure… And now, in love.