Chapter 25
“Lord Galway seems quite taken with your companion,” Ernest remarked while surveying the Pemberton soirée with practiced boredom.
The drawing room overflowed with London’s elite, all pretending the intimate gathering was by choice rather than winter weather keeping larger venues inaccessible.
Aaron watched Galway lean closer to Louise, explaining something that apparently required gesturing with both hands. She nodded politely, her expression attentive but neutral, offering nothing beyond courtesy. Still, the man persisted, clearly interpreting politeness as encouragement.
“Galway collects beautiful things.” Aaron kept his voice level despite the violence building in his chest.
“And you’re going to let him collect her?”
The question hung between them while Aaron watched Louise respond to something Galway said. She smiled slightly, the expression never reaching her eyes, but Galway beamed as if she had granted him the crown jewels.
You are not your father, Aaron reminded himself. You do not own her. You have no right to the jealousy eating through your control like acid.
But the litany of rational thoughts did nothing to stop the rage building as Galway touched Louise’s elbow, guiding her toward the refreshment table. The gesture lasted perhaps two seconds, but Aaron felt each moment like a brand against his skin.
“Aaron?” Ernest’s voice held concern. “You’re crushing your glass again.”
Aaron set the champagne down carefully, forcing his hands to relax. Across the room, Louise accepted a glass from Galway with a murmured thanks. She maintained proper distance, kept her responses brief, and did nothing to encourage his attention.
Which somehow made it worse.
She wasn’t flirting. She wasn’t encouraging. She was simply existing in her quiet grace, and men like Galway couldn’t help but circle her like moths to flame. Or more aptly, wolves to a lamb.
And Aaron stood there, watching other men want what he had denied himself, what he had pushed away in the name of protecting her.
His father would have crossed the room and claimed her publicly, consequences be damned. He would have marked his territory with displays of possession that left no doubt of ownership.
Aaron remained where he stood, counting breaths, listing all the ways he was different from his father.
He didn’t collect women like art. He didn’t destroy them for sport. He didn’t take what he wanted without thought for the damage left behind.
But God help him, watching Galway monopolize Louise’s attention for the past hour had awakened something primitive in him that cared nothing for noble intentions.
“Lady Louise handles herself well,” Ernest observed. “She’s given him nothing to build on.”
Aaron knew that. Could see it in every carefully controlled response, every politely maintained distance. Louise was performing the perfect companion, above reproach in every way.
Which meant the fury building in his chest had no legitimate target except himself.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Aaron said abruptly.
He left Ernest without explanation, needing distance from the scene playing out across the room. But everywhere he moved, he remained aware of Louise, of Galway’s persistent attention, of the way other men watched her when they thought no one would notice.
The evening dragged on interminably. Aaron made appropriate conversation, played a hand of cards, and discussed politics with men whose names he forgot immediately.
Through it all, his attention remained fixed on Louise, on the careful way she navigated Galway’s interest without giving offense or encouragement.
She was perfect. Controlled. Proper.
And he wanted to destroy that control entirely.
The thought should have appalled him. Instead, it took root in his mind, growing with each passing minute. He thought of her in his chambers, coming apart beneath his touch. The sounds she made when pleasure overwhelmed propriety. The way she trusted him completely in those stolen moments.
But that was all those moments were: stolen.
And that was all they would remain.
“Lord Galway seemed pleasant,” Cecilia said drowsily.
“He was very polite,” Louise agreed, her tone revealing nothing.
Aaron’s hands clenched against his thighs. Polite. As if Galway’s obvious desire to bed her could be reduced to mere politeness.
They arrived at Calborough House, and Aaron watched Louise disappear upstairs without acknowledging him. Cecilia patted his cheek with motherly affection that felt like mockery, given the thoughts consuming him.
He retreated to his study, poured himself a brandy, and tried to think of anything except Louise in that amber silk gown, the way candlelight had caught in her hair, the perfect column of her throat when she tilted her head to listen to the man’s undoubtedly insipid conversation.
Aaron pulled out a sheet of paper before reason could reassert itself. His hand moved without conscious direction, writing words that came from the primitive part of him that cared nothing for propriety.
Come to my chambers.
He sealed the note and made his way through the dark house, his footsteps silent on thick carpets. At Louise’s door, he paused, knowing he stood at a precipice. Sliding this note beneath her door would cross a line, would take what he had sworn to deny himself.
The note slipped beneath her door with barely a whisper.
Aaron returned to his chambers to wait, pacing before the fire like a caged predator. She might not come. She might recognize the danger in his summons and wisely keep her distance.
The door opened without a knock.
Louise stood in the doorway in her nightgown and wrapper, hair loose around her shoulders, cheeks still faintly flushed from the cold. She must have come the moment she’d read his note; she hadn’t even tried to compose herself.
A warmth tightened in Aaron’s chest.
“Close the door,” he said quietly.
She did, and when she turned back to him, her eyes searched his face—curious, a touch breathless, as though she already knew why he’d asked her here.
“I came as soon as I could,” she murmured. “Your note sounded … important.”
“It is.” Aaron took a step toward her, not because he wished to cage her in, but because he needed to be close enough to read every flicker of her expression. “Did you enjoy yourself tonight?”
She hesitated, then offered a polite, practiced answer. “It was a pleasant evening.”
He could hear the lie beneath the civility. “Pleasant,” he repeated softly. “But not memorable.”
Her gaze dropped for a moment. “Not in the way you seem to mean.” Then, more quietly, “I thought of you.”
Aaron stilled. “Of me?”
She nodded once. “All evening.”
Something warm and fierce unfurled low in his stomach.
“I’m glad,” he said, voice rougher than he intended. “Because I did the same.”
“Aaron …” she breathed.
He drank in every unguarded detail: the soft fall of her hair, the way her fingers curled slightly in anticipation, the pulse fluttering lightly at her throat.
“I know I have set boundaries. I’m not going to change those tonight. I want to offer you pleasure. Something to make up for tonight’s polite conversation and tedious compliments. But only if you want it.”
Her eyes lifted to his, bright and unflinching. “I … I do.”
He reached out, slowly, giving her every chance to pull back. She didn’t. His fingers brushed her cheek, and she leaned into the touch with a quiet, involuntary sigh.
“You came to me like this,” he whispered, letting his thumb trace the edge of her jaw. “Hair loose. Barely covered. You have no idea what that does to me.”
“I know exactly what it does.” Her voice was barely more than a breath. “I wanted to.”
His restraint frayed. He stepped closer, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her body through the thin linen.
“Louise,” he said gently, “tell me what you want.”
She swallowed, then lifted her chin just slightly. “I want you,” she said. “I’ve wanted you all night. No one else even crossed my mind.”
His head bowed for a moment in something like reverence.
“Good,” he murmured. “Then let me satisfy that need.”
When he backed her against the door, it wasn’t with force but with a slow, intentional closeness, an invitation she met halfway. Her breath mingled with his, her hands knotting in the front of his coat, pulling him nearer with a boldness that made his pulse thrum.
He kissed the corner of her mouth, coaxing, a promise of pleasure rather than a claim of her body.
“I can’t stop thinking about your lips,” he said softly. “About the way you come apart. So delicious …”
Her answer was a shiver, a soft exhale, and her hands sliding to the collar of his shirt.
He lifted his fingers to the tie of her dressing gown. “May I?”
Louise nodded once, eyes wide, lips parted. “Please.”
With slow, steady hands, he untied the sash and let the fabric fall open. It slipped from her shoulders and puddled around her feet.
Heat surged through him.
He forced a slow breath.
Louise stood there, cheeks flushed, chest rising in quick, delicate breaths, as if she were waiting for him to decide whether the world would keep turning.
Aaron stepped closer.
His hands rose of their own accord, though he made them move lightly, deliberately. He traced the line of her collarbone with a fingertip, memorizing the way her skin warmed beneath his touch. She trembled, barely, and satisfaction curled low in his spine.
She wanted him. Badly. And he wanted her just as fiercely.
He lowered his mouth to her shoulder, brushing a kiss against her skin. Soft. Controlled. A warning and a promise in one. The faint taste of her, sweet, warm, and maddening, nearly pulled a groan from his throat.
Not yet.
He kissed her again, slower, letting each touch build heat without giving in to haste. Her breath hitched. Her fingers hovered at his shoulders, not clutching him, but nearly.
Perfect.
He slid his hands to her waist, letting his thumbs stroke small circles along the fabric still shielding her. Her body leaned toward him in a helpless, instinctive way that made restraint feel like a blade pressed to his own throat.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispered, though every part of him prayed she wouldn’t.
“Don’t stop,” she said and looked up at him with wide, desperate eyes that told him exactly how far she’d fall if he let her.
He exhaled slowly. Then he took her mouth, drawing a small, broken sound from her that fed something primal inside him.
He guided her backward onto the bed, bracing himself above her, ensuring she felt his strength without the full weight of his want.
His mouth wandered along her throat, savoring the flutter of her pulse as his hands continued their measured exploration while never slipping where he shouldn’t, but skirting close enough that her body tightened beneath his.
She arched helplessly, seeking more pressure, more contact, more him.
Good. Let her feel the wanting.
Aaron let his lips trail to the sensitive hollow beneath her ear, allowing the barest scrape of his teeth before soothing the spot with a kiss. Her soft gasp nearly undid him.
“You’re trembling,” he murmured, letting his hand ghost down her ribs, feeling every shiver he caused. “Is that for me?”
She swallowed, and her breath was unsteady. “Aaron … please …”
His control thinned dangerously at the sound of her pleading, but he grasped it, held it tight, because he knew the effect of restraint. Knew what anticipation did to her.
“Say it again,” he whispered against her skin, savoring the way she shivered. “Let me hear you ask.”
Her whisper came ragged, urgent, utterly undone. “Please.”
A victorious heat surged through him, dark and intoxicating, but he kept his voice low, steady, perfectly in command.
“Good.”
And with a slow, deliberate touch, he gave her exactly what she begged for, guiding her toward release with expert patience. His fingers slowly thrummed on the tight bud between her thighs. A slow, deliberate rhythm that caused a flush of red to bloom across her chest.
When he felt she was nearing the edge, his hand stilled, and a cry of frustration tore from her.
He eased a finger into her folds, and he watched the shift in her expression.
His finger slid deeper and quicker into her, over and over, until she finally broke apart beneath him, beautiful and breathless.
Aaron held her through the shuddering aftermath, letting the storm in her settle even as the storm in him raged.
Control. He would keep it. For both their sakes.
He lifted her wrapper and helped her put it back on, smoothed her hair, all while she watched him with dazed eyes.
“You’re not him,” she whispered.
Aaron’s hands stilled. “What?”
“Your father. You’re not him.” Louise touched his face with trembling fingers. “He would have taken what he wanted without thought. You give pleasure while denying yourself. You protect even when you claim.”
The words hit him like absolution he didn’t deserve. Aaron pressed his forehead against hers, breathing in her scent, trying to hold onto this moment when she saw him as something other than the monster he feared himself to be.
“Go back to your room, Louise,” he said softly and pressed a kiss on her forehead. “Sleep. Get some rest, my sweet.”
Louise left without another word, and Aaron stood alone in his chambers, his body aching with denied need, his mind cycling through the evening’s events.
She was satisfied for tonight, and that was enough for him.
No matter how cold his chest felt.