Chapter 9
Nine
WILHEM
“Have you seen Tilly since this morning?” Wilhem asked, pressing a chaste kiss to Etta’s temple as he plopped down onto the settee next to her.
The morning had quieted down after he had announced their betrothal.
Not too happily, Leland had sulked off without so much as a congratulations.
But his silence, by far, was better than him calling Wilhem out.
The outright aggression had dissipated, leaving a simmering begrudgement in its wake. Wilhem could work with that.
“I haven’t. She said she wanted to go for a ride.”
“A ride? After traveling here from France? That makes no sense.”
Etta shrugged and dropped her book in her lap. “It seemed odd to me as well, but she’s the kind who won’t say anything until she’s ready. And then when she is ready, it’ll all come pouring out. So I don’t bother to press her for information.”
“I’ll have to find out why she left France and her art program so suddenly to come here. It can’t be anything good. Not when Tilly’s involved.”
“She’s a good girl, you know?”
He snorted at that. Of course Etta would have her best friend’s back. The two were as thick as thieves growing up and had only been parted for the first time this spring. “You would say that.” His fingers longed to hold her and pull her onto his lap. And why the hell couldn’t he now?
So he did.
“Wilhem?” she squeaked out at the sudden gesture.
“That’s better. This conversation is so much more pleasurable this way.”
“What if someone walks in and sees us?”
“You’re right,” he nuzzled against her neck. “By God, we’ll have to get married,”
“I’m serious,” she said, hands on his chest in a feeble attempt to push away from him.
His hands roamed higher up her ribs, thumbs brushing gently just under the swell of her breasts. “So am I.” He squeezed her. “I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”
“Tilly could come back any moment from her ride—”
“Speaking of rides,” he arched up into her, “I think you need to take one.”
“Wilhem.” But her hands yanked up her skirts and then thrust into his hair. “We might not have much time.”
“Then we’ll make it good for you, won’t we?” Fingers on one hand unbuttoned his falls while the other hand gently massaged her lower back.
Glassy eyes fell to his cock, and her mouth parted. “Is that for me?” she asked breathlessly.
“Only you,” he rasped, leaning back and dragging her atop him. The feel of her slickness pulled his insides together and twisted hard, coiling. “Get on, Etta.”
She didn’t hesitate, and when she plunged down onto him, they cried out together in deep contentment.
“How can I already want more of you?” she asked lightly in his ear.
“The same way I want more of you.” He thrust up into her, grinding against her clit. “I’ll never stop wanting you, Etta. I tried. God, I tried. I tried to outrun you, but there’s no outrunning my dreams.”
“I tried, too, Wilhem. I thought it was a silly crush. I thought maybe Leland might be right about you. But he wasn’t.”
“He wasn’t right about you either. He always worked so hard to protect you. Keep you safe. But he doesn’t see how strong you are. How courageous you are.”
“I’m not courageous.” She tugged at his shirt, looking for an opening, rocking smoothly over him. Small movements. Intense sensations. “You’re the brave one.”
“You took care of me and my ankle, wrapped it up, undaunted. No panic. You knew exactly what to do.”
“I didn’t know what to do. I just…” her eyes met his, misty, “needed to take care of you. Make sure you were alright.”
“That’s bravery, Etta. Doing what needs to be done, even when you don’t necessarily know the right answer. You figure it out.”
“I’m glad we figured this out, Wilhem. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” With that, his mouth covered hers and their movements turned from gentle and rhythmic to frantic and feral.
Only after she cried out his name, twice, did he let himself find his release in her. He would never tire of the way she felt and the way she made him feel. She was his, and she was his forever.
They sat still embracing for a while afterward. Her head resting on his chest.
“Which of my country homes do you like best?” Knowing her preferences pretty well, he could have chosen a home for them to live in all on his own.
But he didn’t want to do that. He wanted to hear her opinions.
He wanted her to choose. He wanted a partner.
Someone to do life with, not dictate life to.
“I like all of the ones I’ve visited for different reasons, but I’ve always enjoyed being close to Tilly.”
“Then that’s how we’ll decide.”
“Decide what?” she asked lazily, drawing loops on his chest.
“Where we’ll live. Where we’ll spend most of our time.”
Her head popped up. “But what about traveling?”
“I’m not leaving you.” He tightened his arms around her, pulling her close.
“I’ll travel with you.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to, Wilhem.”
His head perked up at the gravity of her tone. “You do?”
“Yes. I want to explore. I want to live a courageous life. With you,” she added almost cautiously. “I wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else.”
“Except Tilly?” he teased. “You were about to move to France when I arrived.”
“Yes. There’s that. It was mostly to spite you. And…” she leaned in close, “in hopes I might see you there when you returned.”
“You would have seen me, heard me, felt me…all of it, Etta.”
“That’s what I was counting on.”
He studied her face for any signs of obsequience. “You really want to travel? Not just for me.”
“I do.”
“Then we will. We’ll explore as much of the world as you want. And whenever you’re ready, we’ll come home.”
“That’s the most perfect plan I’ve ever heard from you, Wilhem. Except one thing. I’ll never need to come home because I’ll always have it with me. You’re my home.”
His heart expanded at the joy and overwhelming love he felt. “And you’re my home, Etta. Always.”