Chapter 7
Seven
WILHEM
“Holy hell.” Her shoulder invited him to bite down and suck hard.
His entire body tensed and shot everything he had into her.
Never in his life had he given himself so fully to someone.
Never in his life had someone given themselves so fully to him.
It was like he had emptied his entire self into her and she had done the same.
What the hell just happened? He would have thought he was under some kind of spell except that he always knew it would be this way with Etta.
It was why he’d braved her brother years ago.
But when Leland told him that Etta would never marry him, he was forced to let it be.
He couldn’t bring himself to live in what he thought would be a loveless marriage, or rather, a marriage of unrequited love. That would have been devastating.
Having lost one relationship in her brother, he didn’t want to risk losing another one in her. Better to at least be friends, was what he told himself. It was a heavy burden of a lie he’d lived under for far too long.
Until now.
Now he knew that she harbored the same feelings.
Now he knew what it was like to be harbored in her body.
Now he knew what a true harbor, a true refuge, was. It was her. And there’d never be another. He could travel the world, port at every available stop, yet he knew he’d never find a home anywhere else but in her. He was going to marry her, and they’d figure out the rest later.
“Oh my God, Wilhem,” her voice floated on a cloud of a whisper against his cheek. And she moved lethargically against him, making him squirm where he was still throbbing with sensitivity. Already, he wanted to take her again in all manner of positions, he just needed five minutes to recuperate.
He chuckled, kissed her cheek, and murmured into her ear, “I always knew it would be like this with you.” Without seeing it, he knew a hot blush was creeping up her neck. “It’ll always be like this with you. Only you.”
He could sense a slight stiffening in her body, but didn’t want to chalk it up to a refusal.
There was no way he was going to let her slip through his fingers again.
Not after what they’d just shared. If it took him the rest of his life, he’d pursue her—woo her—to show her that he was the one for him.
It would prove to be a herculean task, but he was up for it.
Thank God the question that she asked next offered him some hope instead of a lifetime of unrequited love. “Wilhem, what are we going to do?” We. She had said we. They were in this together, and that was by far a clear sign that her thinking was more aligned with his than opposed.
And he was ready to answer her. To tell her all about the we plans he would make with her. He would subscribe to all the we plans in the world if it meant having her. But there was no time for that.
The thudding of hooves interrupted his response to her question. A question he knew the answer to, but was too rattled to express by the oncoming passerby.
“Quick, get your clothes on.” It could be a highwayman. It could be anyone. It didn’t matter. No one was going to see her in this state of dishabille. He wrapped her ties and set her gown to rights.
Raking his hand through his hair and checking himself, he sat ready. Waiting. Seeing the broken wheel, it was likely the rider would stop, and only the future would tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
The sharp rap on the door indicated the latter.
And when it swung open to reveal Leland’s furious red face, it was most certainly confirmed to be indicative of the latter. No mistaking his face. Or the words that poured out of him.
“Hand over my sister, you knave.”
“Leland, we’re—”
“You won’t touch her. You won’t see her.
You won’t even think of her ever again. You and your careless ways.
How could I have ever trusted you?” he shouted the venomous words.
“How were we ever friends? You’re the worst kind of bastard.
” In all the years of their childhood friendship, Wilham had never seen Leland’s face so splotchy in ire.
Even when Leland had shunned him, he hadn’t seen this level of expressiveness.
If anything, Leland had been cold. Aloof.
Dismissive. Both reactions were hard to take, but at least this time Wilhem knew he was in the right.
Or was going to be. He was going to do the honorable—and loving—thing.
If only Leland would listen, he could explain that he would settle down for Etta.
He’d give up all the travel, all the exploration, everything, just to be with her.
“I’m going to marr—”
“I’ll call you out, Wilhem.” Leland’s voice dropped slowly and hard. Nothing like the speed and depths to which Wilhem’s stomach fell. His feet ached from the collision. “By God, I’ll blast your damn face off.”
“Leland!” Etta recoiled in horror. She reached for Wilhem, but he saw her withdraw under Leland’s sharp glare.
“Get out of the carriage, Etta. I’m taking you home.”
“But—”
“Just go with him, Etta.” Wilhem turned in his seat to face her, gripping her hand discreetly. He squeezed it. “It’s for the best.” There would be time later to sort it all out.
The scowl she gave him didn’t bother him.
In fact, he was expecting it. Of course he didn’t want her to leave, but she had to respect her brother for now.
She’d already embarrassed him by jilting the groom at the altar that he’d acquired for her.
It would not do to further provoke the beast. So no, the scowl meant nothing to him.
But the hurt that streaked across her face pierced him to the soul.
He was loath to let go of her hand and gave it one more squeeze, but she tugged it away.
He’d make it up to her. They just needed to settle Leland first.
Which, come to think of it, might be the hardest task of all.