Page 86 of Mending the Baron's Sins
At first, in her sleepy state, she didn’t dare believe it. Surely the events of the night before were an invention of her imagination, completely impossible, but then a hand slipped across her waist and the excitement coiled in her gut.
No, it was real.
She pressed herself back in the bed, feeling Horace nuzzle into her neck.
“Thank God I am waking up with you,” he whispered against her skin, kissing down her neck and across her collarbone. When his kisses grew more animated, she giggled into the sheets, indulging in the scent that they had left there the night before. It smelled like them, and of her perfume that she liked to wear.
She was rolled over and suddenly pressed beneath Horace. Such excitement shot through her that she barely registered the sunlight streaming between the curtains or the fact it was morning at all. The only thing she thought of was the pressure of Horace above her, his hips against hers, and the way he kissed her.
They were still bare, and naturally, her naked legs wrapped around his hip. He groaned into their kiss, an animalistic growl that made her shudder with delight, then he released her from the kiss, resting his weight on his elbows on either side of her head.
She smiled up at him, startled to still be here, and above all, to have him still with her.
“Thank you for not running away this time,” he whispered with a playful smile. She giggled as he laughed.
“I didn’t run away last time!”
“Oh, you did.”
“Well, what would have happened if we had been caught by my uncle in the morning?” she asked, raising her hands up over his back. Such a smile spread across his lips that she realized at once how much he liked this. She trailed her fingers back and forthacross his shoulder blades and down his back. He trembled at one point, and she felt his hardness raise between them.
She lifted her eyebrows.
“Again?” she whispered.
“Ha! I cannot help the power you have over me.” He bent down and started kissing across her bare collarbone, down to the tops of her breasts. Her legs shuddered around his hips, remembering the feeling of being entered by him the night before, the sheer shock and depth of pleasure overwhelming her. “Yet you’ll be sore this morning. As much as I wish to relive last night… not yet.” He kissed under her chin and back to her lips.
She tangled her fingers in his hair, holding him down to her. His hands moved across her body, despite his words. He explored her waist and her breasts, squeezing her softly and playfully, making her writhe with pleasure, before he released her from the kiss again.
“Where do you get such ideas of lovemaking?” she murmured, shuddering once again.
“Well, maybe a few of my books give me some ideas.” He rolled the two of them over, so that he was underneath, and she laid flat on his chest. He nodded his head at the stack of books he’d had brought up from the library that now rested on the table besidehim. “You’d be amazed what some of the chapters in there can inspire.”
“You were supposed to be peacefully sleeping.” She playfully reprimanded him and sat up, ending up straddling him and tapping his chest. He chuckled deeply, his palms resting loosely on the tops of her thighs.
“Nothing could compare to the creativity of my dreams.” He rubbed a hand across his brow. “Believe me, the books were tame in comparison.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that in my sickness, I’ve had such vivid dreams about everything.” He looked up from her suddenly, a tiny frown marring his brow.
“What is it?” she asked, leaning forward a few inches, her hands trailing up his chest. He inhaled sharply, and she realized it was her touch that had had such an effect on him.
“I don’t know,” he murmured. “I guess I’m now unsure which were dreams and which were memories. That’s a bit mad, I suppose.”
“No, no, it’s not. Come, what is it you remember of your dreams? There might be something in it.” She pleaded with him to go on.
The last few days had been tumultuous indeed for her heart. Her greatest relief was to see Horace had been regaining his strength every day, but the more she had attended to him, trying to fix the damage of the camphor poisoning, the more she realized that something wasn’t quite right.
Camphor could be quick acting and even be fatal within a few hours if used in a high enough dosage, yet Horace had been sick for days. She couldn’t help fearing that something else was at play.
“I remember seeing glasses in the darkness, sometimes pressed to my lips,” Horace whispered, his hands resting over hers on his chest so that he could trail their fingers together. “I remember… a handshake. A man lumbered around this room. The day I fell ill, Colm was there, yes, but…” His chin suddenly jerked down, and he met her gaze.
“What is it?” she asked.
“He wasn’t the only meeting I had that day, nor was he the only one who gave me something to drink. When the housekeeper brought me one of your teas, there was another there.Hepassed me the herbal tea to drink, and he took his time doing it too.”
“Who, Horace? Who passed you the tea?” She could see just by looking at his expression that he was suspecting the same thing she was.
