Page 63 of Sir Hugo Seeks a Wife
She ignored the taunting voice in her head.Or tried to, because right now the prospect of a lifetime sharing Sir Hugo Brinsmead’s bed seemed better than heaven.
He’d been so selfless with her.He’d shown her care and respect, as if she were still a fine lady.Athene couldn’t return that favor by destroying his life, just because she wanted to stay with him.It turned out that she could be selfless, too.
And that knowledge made her want to bawl her eyes out.Hugo Brinsmead was the most wonderful man in the world, yet she knew the day would come when she’d curse that their paths had ever crossed.
Chapter 17
The truth may hurt.
The truth may smart.
But it must come out,
And tear my heart.
Despite Athene’s best intentions, they were three days into their sensual idyll before she mustered the courage to share her disreputable past with Hugo.
It wasn’t altogether her fault.Their insatiable hunger for each other meant that they devoted most of their waking hours to pleasure.Athene’s carnal education had continued apace.Hugo had taken her standing.He’d taken her sitting.He’d taken her from behind on the bed, then bent over one of the padded chairs.They’d used the wall.They’d used the floor.
They’d even splashed about in the large tin bath that he’d ordered the second day.It was years since Athene had enjoyed the luxury of a long soak in scented hot water.She’d never imagined that all that water could make for a slippery, steamy, slow seduction that propelled her to the fiery borders of the universe.
It turned out that in her wanton career, she’d failed to imagine a great many things.
“What are you thinking about?”Hugo asked.It was late.Close to midnight.She wore her plain nightgown and he’d tugged on a shirt and breeches.They sat in front of the sitting room fire, enjoying a port and some of Mrs.Treddle’s baking.Mrs.Treddle’s tidbits had done much to keep Athene’s strength up.
“Our bath.”
“Ah.”
She sipped her wine, savoring the rich flavor.During her years of poverty, she’d forgotten quite how luxury eroded resolve.After the Three Crowns’ comforts, it would kill her to go back to her thin mattress at the back of Sylvie’s shop.Hugo was a bad influence on her.
Which didn’t mean that she intended to part from him until she had to.
“That was—”
“Splendiferous?”
“Yes.”
She admired his propensity for extravagant language.He loved words even more than she did, as it turned out.
Silence descended again.Easy.Alive with unspoken communication that somehow strengthened the bonds between them.
“You know, on a cold winter’s night, there’s nothing nicer than sitting with your sweetheart and dreaming in front of the fire,” he said in a thoughtful voice.
Athene should object to him calling her his sweetheart.In part because she loved it too much.Also the word carried an air of innocence that she didn’t deserve.And romance – when she struggled to remember that she was this man’s mistress and destined to be nothing more.
But lazy contentment swaddled her, and she couldn’t bring herself to spoil the languorous mood.“I can think of a few things nicer.”
He gave a brief grunt of amusement.“Well, there’s that, too.”
They’d donethatwhen they came upstairs from a walk along the river.Andthatagain after another extravagant dinner.She had a feelingthatwould make a return appearance, once they went back to bed.She could hardly wait.
A decade of celibacy had vanished into a whirlwind of lust.Athene couldn’t get enough of Hugo and his big, virile body.For the last three days, she’d wandered around in a daze of sexual fulfillment.Physical pleasure thrummed in her blood.
It was a good thing that he seemed equally rapacious for her.
Staring into the crackling fire, she took another sip of wine.And plowed ahead to puncture the languorous mood.“The coldest I’ve ever been was the winter Bonaparte occupied Vienna.”
