Elmwood
He was completely certain that he did not deserve any of it.
But he had decided—and he knew the precise moment he had decided; it had been when she had politely requested that he put his fingers in her cunny—that whatever this was, he would not question it, and he would cling to it for however long it lasted and try not to muck it up by thinking about its inevitable end.
Working together, they managed to wrestle the badger leg out of Rollo’s grip, and then the three of them returned to Hilde’s study.
He sat on a chaise near the fire, Rollo curled at his feet, while she fussed with the coals and added several logs.
It was such a peaceful scene. He realized then how much he cherished little domestic moments with her like this one.
They allowed him to slip into a fantasy of what their lives would have been, if things were different.
Rather than making him maudlin, such imaginings soothed him.
He watched her, dreamily. Her hair was hanging around her shoulders and down her back, firelight sparking ocher highlights among the dark waves. Several strands of silver shot through the mass of it like veins of precious metal in dark stone.
He closed his eyes, ever so briefly, to savor the image of it.
He woke up sometime later. It was still night, but the fire Hilde had been stoking had burned down to coals again.
He was lying on the chaise, and she had tucked herself between him and the back of it, cleverly avoiding his bad hip, which was on the outside edge.
Her head was resting on his chest, and his arm was about her.
He cursed himself. How had he let this happen, and for a second time in one night, no less?
He suspected she would come to her senses and be rid of him as soon as she saw him by daylight, and besides that, he was running out of time.
He would have to leave her, and soon. He had a week at the longest to turn himself in before Miss Floret’s undoubtedly swift justice would prevent him from taking responsibility in the way that he wished to.
This night might be all they had, and he had squandered it by falling asleep sitting up like a fucking soldier!
“Did you have another nightmare?” she murmured, shifting a little.
“What?” he said, holding her closer, afraid that she might withdraw from his arms if she woke fully.
“You had one, shortly after you fell asleep. Do you not remember?”
“No, I don’t. I hope I wasn’t…I don’t think I’m a very good bedfellow.”
She nuzzled her face closer to his chest in a sleepy gesture of familiarity that made his throat tighten.
“How lucky that we aren’t in a bed, then.” Her voice was soft and full of sleep.
He was not accustomed to her being soft, at least not in terms of manner. Her body most certainly was. He allowed his hand to move over her hip and grasp it. There were so many things they could do with the remainder of this night. So very, delectably many things.
But then he recalled how she had asked him if he wanted to finish, as if it were a requirement she must provide in return for her own pleasure.
He was appalled by the thought of her feeling obliged to him in that way.
Then she had wept, and he had very nearly joined her, and remembering all of it made him hesitate.
If only they had the benefit of time.
Lacking time, he refused to make demands of her, no matter how forcefully his desire might drive him to. Holding her like this, having the privilege of seeing her half-asleep and vulnerable with stillness, was truly the most precious use of what little time they had that he could imagine.
“Good night, Hilde,” he said, releasing his grip on her hip and letting his hand settle gently.
“Good night…” She paused. “Do I have to call you Erol now?”
“I beg you, no.”
“Good night, Elmwood.”
Elmwood woke with a crick in his neck. Sleeping entwined with a lover on a chaise might be romantic, but it was clearly the purview of youth.
He realized he had been awakened by the sensation of Lady Croft petting her fingers down his chest and sliding them into the gaping neck of his shirt.
Her face was hovering quite close to his, and her hair seemed to be everywhere, flowing around them and tangling down her back to twine about his fingers where he held her.
“Is it morning?” he croaked.
“Yes.”
He used the arm that wasn’t holding her to push himself up a bit and groaned.
“Your hip?” she asked.
“That and everything else. I fear I’m too old to sleep the night on a glorified chair.”
She smiled. “I was just thinking the same thing.” Her fingers continued their dance, and his pulse began to beat harder, hip ache and neck crick be Charmed, but then her smile faded.
“You should get back to your room.”
“It’s barely dawn,” he protested, clutching at the soft fabric that was bunched at the small of her back and then pressing against her. “Will you let me touch you again, please?” Surely there was time for him to pleasure her once more, before this was all over.
“Elmwood, have you forgotten what it’s like to have a proper staff for your house? Ed will be in to stir the fire any minute.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to scandalize Ed,” he murmured, kissing his way down her neck. She felt warm even though the room was cold, and more than anything, he wanted to press his skin to hers and revel in all the glorious heat of her.
“It’s not just Ed. I imagine your fiancée will be looking for you,” she said, her voice tight.
He groaned, falling back onto the chaise.
“Please,” he said, his own voice scratchy with longing and the desperate desire to not fuck things up. “I know this cannot last; I know it’s only a brief moment in what I hope will be your long, happy life, but please. Please don’t let it be over quite yet.”
“A brief moment?” She sat up all the way, and he immediately missed the press of her. “Yes, I suppose it can only be a brief moment, as you are set to marry Lady Isobel and get on with your long, happy life with her!”
“Why are you scolding me about Lady Isobel when we both know I am desperately consumed by desire for you and only want to be rid of her?”
There was a terrible little gasp from the doorway into the taxidermy room.
It was Lady Isobel, her hand over her mouth.
Hilde must have left the door of her bedchamber unlocked.
“Lady Isobel,” Elmwood said, but then stopped short. What could he possibly say? This was exactly what it looked like, and he had no excuse to offer up. There was nothing of use to express.
Lady Isobel turned and fled.
Elmwood rubbed his face with both hands.
“Well, that’s one way to break off an engagement.”
“You must go and talk to her,” Hilde said again. They were back in her bedchamber, and she was helping him button his waistcoat. She seemed to do it without thinking, and the intimacy of it made an alarming tenderness bloom inside him.
“I very much doubt she wants to speak with me,” he said, trying to take her by the hands as she finished with his buttons, but she pulled away.
She amazed him by reaching down and yanking up the velvet sack of a dress that she had improbably slept in, then pulling it over her head, revealing all of her in the glorious light of day.
He ogled, losing track of what they were arguing about.
The woman had an ass that could bring an entire city to its knees.
“Are you listening to me, Elmwood?”
Her body disappeared into a clean shift, and then she began putting on her stays. He went over to help her lace them, and she seemed surprised but then let him.
“You must make things right with her,” she said.
“I promise you, I will ensure that she doesn’t speak of what she saw. As far as anyone knows, you have a living husband, and the last thing I want is for this to bring more trouble upon you.”
She shook her head. “That isn’t what I mean.
The mess that I’ve made with Thorgoode’s death is inescapable now.
I honestly can’t see that it would matter much if there are some rumors about me spread around in Neck, given everything they may come to say about me now.
No, you need to make things right between yourself and Lady Isobel.
Need I remind you that your life depends upon it? ”
He shook his head, pulling the laces until they were snug but not overly tight.
He watched as she slid a bone busk down the front of the stays.
It had no romantic messages engraved upon it, no little love notes or wishes, not even a smattering of scrimshaw flowers.
Perhaps such things were the fashion only in Neck, and not out here in the Gaze, but she deserved as many sweet sentiments stashed in her bosom as did ladies in the city.
“I am sorry that I have hurt her, and will tell her so, but Hilde, I am not going to marry Lady Isobel. I was already planning to break with her today.”
“That’s nonsense,” she said, grabbing at the front of his waistcoat and hauling him closer to her. He loved when she grabbed him by the waistcoat. Entirely too much. “Marrying her is the only way for you to avoid being sent to Relance to die!”
“Even if Lady Isobel would take me back now, I must break with her. It would be wrong to marry her, when she clearly wishes for a love match. I can’t ruin her life to save my own skin. I won’t, no matter the cost.”
“Then how will you be safe?”
She looked into his eyes with such intensity, he could tell she truly worried for him, and that was both a shame and a balm.
He almost told her the truth. He almost confessed that he planned to do what he should have done from the start and give himself up.
He wondered if she might understand, and praise him for doing the right thing at last. He could offer her Rollo then, and perhaps that would lessen her own worries a little, knowing she had a place here in her community that the Harrier could not touch.