Page 62 of The Counterfeit Scoundrel
He sat so motionless, as though if he moved at all, he wouldn’t be able to stick to his determination not to take her in the carriage. She thought she should say something but didn’t want to disturb the quiet, the calm before the storm. She was rather certain that when they reached their destination and he was unleashed, she was going to be hit with the force of a powerful tempest that destroyed ships. Like him, she remainedquiet, gathering her strength, determined to welcome him as an equal, to take all that he was offering.
The carriage came to a halt, and he immediately went into action, springing away from her, opening the door without waiting for the footman, and leaping out. Reaching back in for her, he extended his hand. She didn’t hesitate to place hers in it.
Her feet landing on the drive should have grounded her, but it was as though she’d stepped into a dream. Everything seemed at once near and distant, solid, yet ethereal.
He offered his arm, and she placed her fingers on it. In silence, they went up the steps and into his residence. A lamp had been left burning on a table in the foyer.
He didn’t bother to take it. No doubt familiar with every aspect of the rooms, able to wander through them in the dark, he led her up the stairs. The shadows began to thicken, went black as though she and he had gone into a tunnel, and then began to lighten again when they reached the landing.
His bedchamber door was open, a pale glow—no doubt provided by the lamp that sat on a small table beside the bed—spilling into the hallway to reveal the flowers.
Removing her hand from his arm, she wandered over to the first table with its vase stuffed with the blossoms. She skimmed her finger around the circle of white petals connected to the yellow button-like center. Daisies. The hallway was filled with daisies.
She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Was it your plan all along to seduce me into joining you here tonight?”
“No, but those have become my favorite flower, almost like having you here.”
He held out his hand, and she enthusiastically placed her palm against his, relishing the way his fingers closed around hers. He guided her into the room where she’d tidied, brought trays, and poured chocolate on him. Become jealous, if she was honest. She hadn’t understood at the time that’s what she was feeling, but she acknowledged it now. It had hurt to think all those women knew him as she wanted to. Perhaps she’d insisted on that third condition because she’d thought it would give her the strength not to surrender to her wants and desires. But they were too powerful, too strong. The potency with which she yearned for him overwhelmed her.
He closed the door, and the sound of itsnickinginto place seemed to unleash a flood of desire. He flicked his jacket off her, sending it to the floor, before pulling her into his arms, and blanketing his mouth over hers. No gentle preamble to this kiss, no outlining of what he was about to taste. No need for either when she eagerly opened her mouth to him, taking what she would, what she’d wanted from the moment she’d seen him hovering outside her office door that morning.
Had it been only that morning? Not even a full day or a full night. The third condition was tossed aside, and her resolve to resist him was torn to tatters, and yet it felt as though in its place had been woven a tapestry spun in gold.
Because everywhere he touched suddenly tingled like it shone and glittered. Although he moved hurriedly, squeezing a breast, cupping her backside, mapping out the terrain of her, so also did he give theimpression that every aspect of her with which he came into contact was precious, treasured.
His groans and growls were deep, tortured almost, as though each caress and stroke wasn’t enough, while at the same time each was everything.
He plowed his hands up into her hair, his fingers taking on the task of locating and dislodging every hairpin that held her locks in place. She’d left her hat in the carriage when they’d begun tonight’s adventures, because she’d decided its wide brim would make it more difficult to hide. When creeping about, it was best not to have objects sticking out that could get caught on things. Now she was grateful he didn’t have to mess with removing it.
Her hair cascaded around her shoulders and along her back and over his forearms, because he still cradled her head. Only then did he break off the kiss. He smiled in appreciation and wonder. “Like honey.”
He combed his fingers through the strands. “So incredibly soft.” He trailed his thumbs along her cheek. “Your skin is as silky as a rose petal.”
It was how she was feeling, as though all of her was unfurling after a quarter of a century on this earth, after so many years of being wary of the goodness of men, of living with a woman who had never married, and being the daughter of one who’d chosen poorly.
She didn’t think she was following in her mother’s footsteps, but if she was, she wasn’t going to regret it. And for the first time, she suspected that her mother hadn’t either. That she’d chosen love, for better or worse, because of moments like this when she felt treasured.
With nimble fingers she began loosening the onyxbuttons of his waistcoat. Lowering his hands, he slipped the pearl buttons on her bodice through their openings. When one task was complete, they moved on to the next, removing garments, their breaths quickening as additional skin was revealed. Their fingers growing greedy to reveal more.
When his shirt was gone, she pressed her mouth to his chest, felt his growl rumbling through him. Her frock was a pool of fabric on the floor, her petticoats beside it.
Once more he cradled her face, held her still, and captured her gaze. “Complete honesty. I want to be sure you understand that I never took to that bed any of the women I’ve helped to secure a divorce. I was never intimate with any of them. I would never take advantage of someone’s vulnerability.”
She nodded because she knew him well enough not to be surprised by the words and whispered, “I’ve never had a dalliance.”
He smiled. She smiled. For a few minutes they simply took each other in, until finally, lifting her into his arms, he carried her to the bed, laid her down, and went to work divesting her of everything else she wore.
She loved watching how his brow pleated, the concentration he directed to the task, as though he was measuring the profitability of an investment and if it was worth the risk that it might not pay off at all. And then the wonder, the appreciation in his eyes when her corset and chemise were littering the floor and her breasts were bared. As though she was definitely worth the risk.
He lowered himself to the edge of the mattress and cupped them. “You are so exquisite.”
She skimmed a hand along the corded muscles of his torso. “So are you.”
He laughed and shook his head. Was he embarrassed?
Standing again, he reached for her drawers. She stopped him and sat up. “I’ll do it. I want to see you. All of you.”
While she wiggled out of her last bit of clothing, he saw to the remainder of his. Couldbeautifulbe applied to a man? Because he was. Gorgeous and sumptuous with defined muscles that her fingers were anxious to trace, to outline, to memorize. The appreciation in his gaze at the sight of her fully revealed took her breath.
