Page 125 of From Rakes to Riches

She wriggled from beneath his weight and he moved to lay on his back, the smooth skin of his shoulders turning golden from the flames. She found the buttons of his falls, making quick work of releasing them. His abdomen’s muscles flexed as her knuckles skimmed his flesh. Then she passed her hands over him, learning the shape and contours of his body, the hard muscles and deep ridges of his chest, until at last she traced the dark line of hair downward, below the waistband of his trousers. He inhaled sharply when she pushed the fabric aside and took his thick erection in hand.

She closed her fingers around him, his satiny smooth arousal hot and hard against her palm. He inhaled sharply as she passed her fingers down his length, stroking him slowly at first, but then with more intention. His eyes were closed and he’d thrown one arm over his head. The flames cast shadows against his profile, his muscles outlined in burnished gold. How glorious he looked in the firelight.

She glanced down his length, his body taut with pleasure and anticipation.

“Don’t stop,” he hissed, drawing her attention back to his face.

She curled closer to his side, the tips of her breasts teasing his chest, her hand still stroking him as she leaned in and kissed him with more emotion than she’d ever confessed, until her heart threatened to betray her completely. Breaking away, shewhispered kisses along his jaw, closing her eyes in kind to his so she wouldn’t say something she shouldn’t.

“Lola,” he uttered, just that one word, before he placed his hand over hers and found his release.

Later after they’dput themselves to rights, they remained near the waning fire, the hour well past midnight. Theodore supported his weight on his elbow, his body aligned with hers, a shelter from the chilly room even though she’d wrapped herself in the blanket.

“You are beautiful in all ways,” he said, skimming his hand over her shoulder, down her arm and across her flat stomach hidden beneath the covers.

His kind words made her chest tighten because they weren’t true. She’d avoided the truth. Concealed her past. If he knew all her troubles, he would leave her. It would be for the best, though the idea of that happening pierced her heart like an arrow.

“Have you been careful?” he asked while she worked her way through the maze of her tangled thoughts.

“You were only gone a handful of days,” she answered and nestled closer to his chest.

“That doesn’t matter.” He tucked her closer still. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

She reached up and touched his lips, moving her hand to cradle his cheek. Their eyes matched.

“You care about me,” she whispered so softly he almost didn’t hear her.

“Of course, I care.” He turned his mouth into her palm and placed a kiss there. “I care more than you know. More than even I’d realized.”

Only the fire hissed and crackled for a long moment, their shared emotion palpable.

“Theodore,” she turned on her side so she could look at him directly. “There’s something I should tell you, something important you need to know.”

“No.” He inhaled deeply, his jaw held tight. “Not now. Not tonight. This time, I’m the one who doesn’t want to talk anymore.”

She stared into his eyes, seeing so much more than affection, and nodded her agreement. Leaning in to meet his kiss, they both fell back into bliss.

18

The next morning Theodore planned to visit Margaret, but first he summoned his man-of-all-things. He needed Wyndham to look into the matter of Viscount Sidmouth’s history. Wyndham was excellent at ferreting out information better society would rather keep hidden, and he did this purely by his association with the servants who worked within the Upper Ten’s households.

Theodore still intended to ask specific questions at White’s concerning the viscount, but that would have to wait. Finding Fremont’s journal was the persistent thought occupying his mind.

Well, that, and the lingering pleasures of his late-night visit with Lola. The sun looked brighter in the sky just by having spent time with her last evening. Now, as he walked to his carriage, he couldn’t keep his smile contained. He’d wanted to tell her so many things and she seemed to want to do the same. Except he’d seen a flicker of sadness in her eyes and he silenced her with a kiss instead. Perhaps it was better they didn’t share words with the same freedom as their affections.

Even if he’d developed feelings for her.

Because he’d developed feelings for her.

Nevertheless, he wasn’t one to take personal relationships lightly and he suspected she was the same. Which was why he hadn’t wanted to hear whatever she’d wanted to say last night.

Conflicted by logic and emotion, he pushed aside these muddled thoughts for later consideration and approached his carriage, directing his driver to take him to Fremont House. He arrived shortly after and was pleased when Margaret met him in the drawing room as it was earlier than usual calling hours.

“How are you holding up?” He asked as soon as he entered.

The constant flow of visitors and prolonged confinement due to mourning would be exhausting for anyone, but more pointedly someone like Margaret who thrived on social activity and conversation.

“As well as can be expected, I suppose.” She wrinkled her nose as she sat in the nearest armchair. “I’ve reduced visiting to one hour in the afternoon as the flow of people paying their respects has dwindled. The burial is planned for next week.” She knitted her fingers together in her lap. “Now that the shock of all this has subsided, I’ve come to realize how much I will miss my brother.”

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