Page 81 of To Bed the Bride
“By allowing you to be rash.”
She was heartily sick of everyone deciding how she should act.
“I’m not a child,” she said, “to be lectured about my behavior. No one compelled me to kiss you, Logan McKnight. I did so because it was something I wanted. Loving you is something else I want. My great mistake was in thinking it was something you wanted as well.”
“Eleanor.”
“Oh, don’t say my name in that way. As if you’re an elder statesman and I’m some naive, foolish chit. I misunderstood. I thought you were as enchanted by our kisses as I was.”
“Of course I was.”
She shook her head. “Evidently not.”
He didn’t say anything. She stepped forward once again, wrapping her arms around his waist and laying her cheek against his chest.
“Must loving me be so difficult for you?”
“I am holding on to the dregs of my honor with more strength than I knew I possessed.”
“And if you loved me, you’d regret it?”
“Would you?”
“Never. How could I ever regret anything so wondrous?”
“How do you know it would be wondrous?”
“Because of the way you kiss me. The way you touch me, gently and tenderly. I want the memory of you loving me, Logan. I want that experience. But I won’t beg you anymore. Your honor is evidently stronger than my need or my wishes.”
“What about Herridge?”
That question just ratcheted up her temper. “What about him? He has nothing to do with this, with us.”
“Doesn’t he?”
She blew out a breath. “Right now, Logan, I’m Eleanor from Scotland. I’m not the pale imitation who lives in London. I’m not the silent, acquiescent nobody who fades into the background. I know exactly what I want, and it’s this afternoon with you. Don’t talk to me about honor. I don’t care about honor. I only care about what I feel here and now. Words can’t possibly measure it.”
She pulled his head down for a kiss. This, this was what she wanted. To feel this connection, this closeness, this gate to another place, another experience she’d never had.
When the kiss was over she stepped back and looked up at him.
“Don’t tell me you feel differently.”
“Damn it, Eleanor, how can I?”
He pulled her into his arms, so tightly that a thought couldn’t come between them. She laughed. Then he kissed her and every thought simply disappeared.
He helped her remove the remainder of her clothing. She continued to work on his buttons. When they proved to be stubborn she wanted to say one of the oaths she’d heard the stable boys use. Logan smiled and replaced her hands with his. In seconds he’d removed his trousers and the rest of his clothes.
His hands were shaking and that had never happened to him before now. The voice of his conscience was getting louder. He should kiss her on the forehead and leave the room. He should say something conciliatory, something that would explain his bizarre, ravening behavior.
She smiled at him as he helped her off with her petticoat, holding out his arm as she stepped delicately out of the pool of lace.
There was no fear in her expression. No hesitation, either. No doubt her conscience was speaking loudly to her as well. Yet she was more adept than he at silencing it.
“Eleanor...”
She reached up and placed two fingers on his lips. Just that wordless gesture as well as the look in her eyes. One that said as clearly as speech,Don’t banish me, Logan. Allow us this pleasure, please.
