Page 35 of The Earl's Scarred Bride

He slid a finger inside her, marveling at the way her inner walls clenched around him. She was so warm, so tight, so utterly perfect. He began to move his finger in a slow rhythm, matching the strokes of his tongue against her clit. The dual sensations made her cry out, her body arching towards him as she sought more.

More. The word echoed through his mind like a mantra. He wanted more of her, more of this, more of the mindless pleasure he could give her. He added a second finger, stretching her gently, feeling the way her body welcomed him with slick heat. He curled his fingers, finding that secret place inside her that made her gasp and shudder.

"Cecil," she moaned, his name a desperate plea. "Please..."

He recognized the signs of her impending release, increasing his ministrations with practiced skill. When Elizabeth finally came undone, it was with a breathless cry that seemed to release all the tension between them. Her body trembled, muscles clenching as waves of pleasure swept through her.

Cecil watched her carefully, noting the way her skin flushed, her breath coming in soft, uneven gasps. There was something deeply satisfying in bringing her to this moment of complete surrender. He pressed one last, gentle kiss to her inner thigh before rising to his feet. The sight of her, so utterly undone, so thoroughly pleasured, made something in his chest swell. He had never cared so much about another person's pleasure, had never found such joy in giving himself completely over to their needs.

Elizabeth looked up at him, her eyes soft and dazed, her cheeks flushed a beautiful pink. She reached out a hand, her fingers brushing against his cheek. "Cecil," she whispered, her voice still breathless. "That was...I've never..."

"Shh," he murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her lips. He could taste her on his mouth, a sweet reminder of the gift she had given him. "You don't need to say anything."

She nodded, her eyes never leaving his. The trust, the warmth, the love in her gaze was nearly overwhelming. He felt a surge of something deep and powerful, a need to protect her, to cherish her, to make her his in every way.

He stepped back, his eyes wandering over her. She looked utterly ravished, her hair loose and wild, her dress rumpled and askew. It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. His fingers itched to touch her again, to explore every inch of her, to claim every part of her as his own.

But he pulled back, the intensity of his own desire making him retreat. He knew if he stayed, he would take her completely, would claim her body with his own.

"The dance lesson is over," Cecil said, his voice rough with restrained desire. He stepped back, putting distance between them. "I should go."

Elizabeth reached for him, confusion and hurt flashing across her features. "Cecil?—"

But he was already moving away, straightening his clothing with trembling hands. He paused at the door, unable to look directly at her. "Before I forget myself entirely," he added softly, then fled his own study like a coward.

In the corridor, he leaned against the wall, his breath coming in harsh pants.

What was happening to him?

Since when did the notorious Earl of Stonefield run from a willing woman?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Elizabeth was in the morning room reviewing household accounts when Harrison appeared in the doorway. "My lady, Miss Harriet Cooper has arrived."

Her heart leaped at the mention of her sister. She hadn't seen Harriet since helping her escape, though they'd exchanged letters through Dinah. Setting aside her ledgers, Elizabeth rose just as Harriet burst into the room, her cheeks flushed from travel.

"Elizabeth!" Harriet flew into her arms. "Oh, I've missed you terribly. When I received your letter about the marriage, I couldn't stay away another moment."

Elizabeth held her sister tightly, inhaling the familiar scent of lavender that reminded her so much of home. When they finally pulled apart, she saw tears glistening in Harriet's eyes.

"This is all my fault," Harriet whispered, touching Elizabeth's cheek. "You married that rake because of me. Because I was too cowardly to face Father myself."

"Hush now." Elizabeth guided her sister to sit beside her on the settee. "The marriage was...not what any of us expected, but I assure you, I'm well settled here."

Something must have shown in her expression because Harriet's eyes narrowed. "Settled? Or something more?"

Elizabeth felt heat rise to her cheeks. How could she explain that Cecil had awakened feelings in her she'd never thought possible? That his touches, even the most innocent ones, set her blood on fire? "The earl has been...kind," she managed.

"Kind?" Harriet's voice cracked. "Like James was kind before he..." She broke off, pressing her fingers to her lips.

"Harriet? What happened?"

"He left," her sister whispered. "Without a word, without even a letter. All his grand promises about waiting until he inherited his uncle's title..." She gave a bitter laugh. "I was such a fool."

Elizabeth gathered her sister close as fresh tears fell. "Oh, my darling. I'm so sorry."

"I thought he loved me," Harriet sobbed against her shoulder. "I would have ruined myself for him, if you hadn't stopped me."

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