Page 29 of On a Midsummer Night
“I stole their father from them.” Henry’s shoulders sank in defeat. “I took their place, whether I knew I was doing it or not.”
Her gaze studied his downturned head, noting his pinched expression, his dull pallor. He’d been through so much since his father’s death—since the man had broken his heart. And in that heartbreak, he had tried his best to care for those he loved, even when it meant turning his emotions into stone. Her broken heart, while certainly not mended, now seemed an injury much easier to bear.
“Beth,” Henry murmured. His eyes were wide, the pupils swallowing the irises. “I’m sorrier than I can say for hurting you. Your loss was the thing I regretted the most. But I didn’t think myself deserving of you. You were so clever and vivacious and happy, and if I had kept my promise and returned to Bristol for you, I was convinced that I would have disappointed you. That you would have expected the young man who kissed you in that garden—when that Henry, who was lighthearted and optimistic, was dead and buried.”
Fire surged up her throat, and Beth clamped her eyes closed. “And did you think I wouldn’t be disappointed when you decided to court my cousin in front of me?”
A rustling sound met her ears, but Beth dared not look. Large, warm hands abruptly enfolded hers, a thumb stroking over the back of her knuckles. With an exhausted exhale, she blinked her eyes and bit her lip to discover Henry kneeling in front of her.
“Darling,” he whispered, his gaze traveling over her face. “As if I could properly court Lucy, let alone pay attention to her, with you always right there, a blazing sun who suddenly reappeared when my life was at its darkest.”
He raised his hand slowly to cup her cheek, that teasing thumb of his trailing across her cheekbone. “You’ve blinded me to everyone else.”
And when his lips touched hers, every objection, every hurt, every rebuttal her mind had conjured was incinerated into ash. Henry tasted her as if she was the sweetest promise and the most ruinous temptation.
Beth leaned into the kiss. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she dragged him close until her thundering heart pressed against his own in a shared tempest. And while Henry had begun the kiss with gentle regard, his passion soon ignited, no doubt stirred by her own. His fingers quickly plucked the pins from her hair, sable tresses soon falling about them and cocooning them in their world. When his tongue teased along her lips, she opened to him, sampling the erotic mixture of brandy and his essence. Her head swam at the rush of sensations.
Somehow in their fervor, Beth discovered herself in Henry’s lap, her voluminous skirts spread about them. With shaking hands, he brushed her hair from her face, his gaze hungry as it traced over her features.
“I’ve never wanted anyone as I’ve wanted you.” His voice was a rasp, but his words were silk along her spine. “From the moment I first saw you at that party in Bristol, I’ve thought of no one else.”
Henry nuzzled his cheek against hers, and she shivered when he growled in her ear. “I never would have married her, Beth. I know now that I continued to court her only so I could spend time with you.”
“You’re an idiot.” She nipped at his ear lobe. “You didn’t have to string Lucy or me along.”
“I strung myself along.” He held her tighter. “I tried to focus on all the reasons why I needed to marry your cousin, and they would blow away on the breeze whenever you appeared.”
With pressure on her shoulders, Henry maneuvered until he could meet her eyes again. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he considered her before he finally whispered, “I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow. I don’t know if my brothers will expose my father’s sin—my deep shame—to all the world. But what I do know is that I love you. I’ve loved you for so long that the idea of being separated from you a second longer is more than I can bear. Will you stay with me tonight? Will you stay with me forever?”
It was as if her chest had splintered and sunshine bathed her heart in warmth and light. This dear man who had let the burdens he struggled with harden him yet somehow, was still the tender, sweet, earnest Henry who had once kissed her under a moonlit sky. He wanted her with no idea that her fortune could help protect him and that knowledge sparked her love to fan brighter.
Too overcome with emotions to form a response, Beth instead threaded her fingers through his thick hair and yanked him down for another kiss.
* * *
Henry had no notion of how they arrived at his bed. In truth, Beth had seemed perfectly happy to be debauched on the narrow settee in his sitting room. But he had wanted to savor her, spread her out below him and taste every inch of her supple skin. And despite the alcohol he had consumed, Henry had not forgotten this was Beth’s first time. He was determined it would be as enjoyable as possible. He didn’t have much experience, but each of his partners had taught him how to elicit pleasure from a woman’s body, and Henry intended to use that knowledge on his future bride.
Bride?The thought made him pause, sitting back on his haunches above Beth as he considered what she would be to him at long last. For he had not lied when he said he’d never wanted anyone as he wanted her. But after his father’s death, he had felt sullied. Unworthy of this effervescent young woman who had stolen his heart and kept it in her safekeeping all the years they were apart. But now, she was to be his wife, and they would figure out the future together. Henry clamped his eyes closed even while his trembling hands gripped her hips.
“What’s wrong, Henry?”
Looking down at her, Henry managed a smile, although it was a tad lopsided. “I’m feeling a bit . . .”
“Overwhelmed?” she offered, smiling when he nodded his head. “Me too. Up until recently, I thought you were marrying my cousin.”
A spark of possessiveness streaked along his skin, and Henry tightened his hold on her. “The only Dalton miss I intend to marry is you.”
A pretty blush radiated over her cheeks, but still, Beth angled her chin proudly. “You better hope you acquit yourself in these next few hours, or I may have an objection or two to becoming Mrs. Henry Ramsgate.”
Her tone was jaunty, but Henry noted how her mouth trembled. How her fingers grabbed his lapels to steady herself. His girl was nervous, and that would not do.
Snaring her gaze, he slowly unfurled his cravat tie, dropping it without a care. Next, he peeled his jacket from his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a heap. Clad only in a white shirt and trousers, Henry gestured with his chin to her bodice. “May I assist you with your dress?”
At Beth’s nod, Henry encouraged her to kneel on the bed before him, taking care to gently scrape his fingertips down the back of her neck as he searched for the clasps that ran the length of her dress. With each one he freed, Henry stroked a thumb along the skin he revealed, his desire flaring with how it flushed or pebbled. Eventually, her bodice sagged, and Henry helped drag the sleeves from her arms, watching with his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as she wiggled the material over her hips. Soon her dress joined his jacket and cravat tie on the floor, leaving her in a simple white chemise and stays.
Beth, in her underthings, was the most erotic sight of his life.
His hands shook as he reached for her and pulled her close. Touching her was like trying to grasp a sunbeam, and Henry hissed between his teeth as his skin melted into hers.
