Page 12 of A Love to Remember
He relaxed on her but moved his body so she didn’t bear his full weight. He’d rest, for just a while, because he wasn’t leaving this bed before they didthatagain. Soon his eyelids drifted closed. Heavy. So heavy.
“Sleep,” she whispered. “I shall wake you later—and this time I shall enjoy doing all the work.”
He would dream of all the inventive things she could do to wake him up. She was wickedly skilled with her mouth—and not only in conversation.
He fell asleep with a smile on his face.
Rose watched Philip as exhaustion overcame him. She would let him sleep for a few hours before taking enormous pleasure in waking him.
She moved and felt the damp patch where he’d spilled his seed. Tonight he’d made love to her as if she were the only woman in the world. She’d hoped that maybe—just maybe this time—he might have declared his feelings by spilling his seed deep inside her.
Stop being a coward and ask him. Tell him that you have changed your mind. You want to marry him. You want more children.
But something stopped her. Philip was the type of man who would see what he wanted and hunt it down. If he really wanted her as his wife he would ask her—no, he’d demand it of her.
She feared to confront him, to speak her heart. Because the truth was that if this half-life was all he could give her, she was afraid that she’d accept it and settle for fleeting moments of pleasure, when really she wanted so much more.
So she said nothing, just lay in the dimming firelight stroking his hair and watching as the man she wanted above all others slept.
Chapter 4
Rose knew Philip was busy for the following few days. Then, on the day of Lord and Lady Spencer’s ball, he sent a note. It was brief and to the point. He’d meet her there.
She couldn’t wait. Part of her hoped that meant he would sneak into her townhouse afterward. Another part reminded her of her decision to question his intentions. Already she was both anticipating their meeting, and dreading it.
Tonight, after the ball, she would find her courage and face her fears. It was time for them both to be honest about their relationship—if one could call it that.
It wasn’t as if Philip was openly courting her. A few nights in secret here, a few weeks’ holiday together there. Over the course of two years it was hardly a commitment.
The ball was a sad crush, and she was beginning to wonder if she would even see Philip in the crowd when a prickle of heat on her neck alerted her that she was being watched.
She turned her head, and there he was. Philip. Their eyes met and held, and awareness smoldered like a stoked fire between them.
She caught her breath.
He was so handsome. An image of him as he’d looked when she’d been a young girl of fifteen pushed to the forefront of her thoughts. He had been the kind ofhandsomethat warranted second and third looks. But she had not realized at the time that, as he matured, his looks would become more masculine, morphing into a stark beauty that stirred her senses. Was it any wonder that first impression upon her fifteen-year-old heart paled in comparison to her feelings for him now?
Would this feeling ever fade?
Her heart thumped painfully in her chest as it occurred to her that tonight might be her last night with him.
“He is exceedingly handsome, is he not?”
Lady Philomena’s catty voice jolted Rose from her lustful thoughts.
The impoverished widow hated her, seeing her as a wealthy rival. Rose’s husband had left her a large widow’s portion. Philomena’s had left her barely enough to have a few new gowns made each season. Desperate to land a wealthy husband, Philomena had wanted to get her hooks into Philip but then Rose came along.
Really, some women were so blind. Philomena—and many other women of theton—only saw Philip’s handsome face, his title, and his wealth. Rose saw all those things, too. But she saw so much more. She saw his hurt, pain, and guilt. She, more than anyone, understood Philip. Perhaps better than he did himself.
“Who is handsome?” Rose pretended nonchalance, but feared everyone had already seen her reaction to Philip.
“Why, Lord Cumberland, of course.” Lady Philomena’s catlike smile held an edge of malevolence and enjoyment. “Don’t you agree? And there are so many fascinating women in the room. Really, the man is spoiled for choice.”
The witch was enjoying herself far too much. What had Rose missed? “I’m sure Lord Cumberland is deluged with admirers,” Rose said, keeping her tone neutral.
Lady Philomena laughed. “We should know, darling. We have both shared his bed.” Her eyes and voice hardened. Chilled. “He used to share his favors, but then you cast your spell.” She studied Rose insolently, slippers to crown. “You stole him from me. Now it’s your turn to be tossed aside. He’s in the market for a wife.”
Gooseflesh prickled her heated skin. Was he? Was this why he’d kept his distance? But she couldn’t think about Philip. Not with Lady Philomena watching her like a cat.Call her bluff; don’t let the bitch know you are vulnerable.
