Page 76 of A Devil in Silk
“I need you in my bed, Clara.” He caught a lock of her hair, letting it slip like silk through his fingers. “Write to the countess. Make an excuse. Stay here tonight. Sleep beside me. Let me be your wildest adventure.”
She didn’t answer in words. Instead, her hand swept around his neck, pulling him down to her. The sudden heat of her mouth, the raw honesty of the kiss, undid him more than any declaration could. She released him only moments before the door opened and Hockton returned with the wine.
Bentley forced himself to step back, every muscle taut, praying the butler wouldn’t notice the strain in his trousers. They waited in silence as Hockton set the tray on the desk and reached for the bottle.
“I’ll see to the wine,” Bentley said, rougher than intended. “You may retire for the evening.”
“Before you go, Hockton, could you send a note to The Burnished Jade in Aldgate?” Clara moved to write a message before folding the paper carefully, though didn’t bother to seal it. “Make sure the Countess of Berridge receives this tonight.”
Hockton took the note, bowed and withdrew, leaving Bentley alone with Clara and the pounding of his own pulse.
Her gaze rested on the bottle of claret. “Well, shall we take our cake and wine upstairs?”
Bentley couldn’t resist teasing her. “Planning to tempt me with cake first? I should warn you, I’ve no patience for torture.”
She tilted her head, amused. “Isn’t food supposed to be the way to a man’s heart? I thought I’d start with cake and see where it leads.”
“You already have my heart,” came his veiled confession. “And right now, you’re the only thing I want to devour.”
Her soft laugh lingered as Bentley picked up the tray laden with cake and wine and led her into the quiet hall. They climbed the stairs slowly, anticipation winding tighter with every step, until they reached the one room he had never dared imagine sharing with her.
“In case you’re in any doubt,” he said, gesturing for her to open the door, “you’re the only woman ever to enter my private chamber.”
“The only woman to stay the night?” she teased.
“The only woman to stay the night,” he confirmed.
She opened the door and stepped inside. Two lit lamps cast a muted glow across the vast four-poster bed, leaving the rest of the room steeped in shadow.
She drew a nervous breath. “The room smells of you, of the musky sandalwood cologne you favour, and the natural scent I’ve always found so strangely compelling.”
So she had thought about him long before he escorted her to the seance. The knowledge stirred something primal as he set the tray on the table near the hearth and closed the door. When they left this chamber, they would be lovers. And, as God was his witness, they’d be married before the month was out.
“Is my private space as you imagined?” he asked.
Clara’s gaze roamed over the carved bedposts and the heavy curtains drawn against the night. “Dark wood hints at the secret side of your character, the one willing to take risks.”
“And yet I’m only reckless with you.”
“Red is the colour of passion,” she said, her fingers brushing the burgundy bedhangings. “Velvet is teasing on the senses.”
“Somewhere deep inside, I always knew you’d come.”
“Ever the self-assured viscount.”
“You’re the only person who makes me nervous.”
Her gaze swept over him, the look alone enough to stoke the fire in his blood. “Pour the wine, Bentley.”
Despite being a confident man of thirty, his hand shook as he filled the crystal glasses. “Well, is this a room fit for The Crimson Contessa?” he asked, handing her the wine.
Their fingers brushed as she accepted the glass, a caress not an accident.
“The moniker is just a game. With you, I know exactly who I am.”
Every muscle in his body tightened, desire rising too fast to hide. “Drink the wine, Clara.”
She held his gaze as she obeyed, taking a measured sip. Her tongue skimmed her lower lip, catching the last trace of claret and the final thread of his restraint. “I sense the time for talking is over.”
