As her body began to return to its normal state, he let out a dark cry. She recognized his release. Had he made that sound before? She honestly didn’t know.
His body rocked into hers several more times before he collapsed—gently—atop her. Would this be the time his seed finally rooted?
He didn’t stay with her long before rolling to his side and then off the bed. A bare moment later, he set her night rail beside her.
“Thank you,” she murmured, drawing it over her head.
“Are you all right?” He asked the same question every time after they finished.
“Yes.” She always answered yes. “Quite,” she added, looking over at him and feeling suddenly shy and embarrassed when his gaze locked with hers.
“Er, good.” He’d fastened his pantaloons and now pulled his banyan on, covering his shoulders.
Which she hadn’t managed to touch once. In fact, she hadn’t touched him at all.
“Well, good night, then.” He tied the sash at his waist on the way to the door and was gone.
Sabrina bolted upright. She should go after him. Tell him she meant to touch him, that she was just woefully out of her element, despite demanding this.
Damn.
She’d thought that had gone better—it had certainly felt better. But she wasn’t convinced that it was a great improvement. He still hadn’t removed all his clothing, and he hadn’t lingered more than was necessary. What did she expect when she couldn’t seem to stop gasping and had failed to touch him? Whereas he’d asked her repeatedly if this was what she wanted. It seemed he was trying, and she was only slightly less reserved than she’d been before.
“I need more help,” she said to no one as she stared at the ceiling. Evie would guide her. Sabrina just hoped she could act on it as well as she’d done with her solo enterprise.
Unless… What if she became pregnant tonight? She wouldn’t know for weeks, so that was a moot issue. She needed to continue sharing her bed with Aldington, and dammit, she wanted it to be better than this.
The question was whether he wanted that too.
Chapter 8
Constantine didn’t know how long he’d lain awake last night, his mind going over—and over—their coupling. Just when he convinced himself she’d enjoyed it, finally, doubt crept back in. Had she actually orgasmed? He wasn’t entirely certain. It had felt like it, but his experience was admittedly thin.
She hadn’t moaned or even touched him, aside from putting her legs around his waist, which he’d suggested she do. She’d made a few noises, but he’d also noted that she put her hand over her mouth. Had that been to keep herself from asking him to stop?
Then she’d done that thing with her hips—moving them in a…provocative way. Now he was back to believing she had enjoyed herself.
You could just bloody ask.
She would probably say she was doing what was necessary to have a child. That was, after all, why she’d come to London. If she could have an orgasm along the way, so much the better.
He couldn’t spend all day worrying over this; he needed to change for his racing meeting. Hopefully, he wouldn’t encounter her in their sitting room when he went upstairs. They’d managed to avoid each other all day, which was typical and probably for the best.
As he stood from behind his desk, a dark gray…something dashed into the study and disappeared behind the blue drapes framing the window. Haddock stepped in through the half-open door. For the first time in Constantine’s experience, the man looked harried.
“I beg your pardon, my lord, did, ah, something run in here?” The butler glanced about the room, his eyes darting wildly.
“Something, yes. What is going on, Haddock?”
“It’s a cat, my lord. Where did he go?”
A cat? What the devil was a cat doing in the house? Constantine went toward the draperies. “He disappeared behind these.” He grasped the thick fabric and pulled it aside only to see the same flash of gray take off back to the door.
Haddock turned and lunged forward. “Grayson!”
Grayson?
The butler’s foot must have caught the doorframe, for he went sprawling forward onto the floor over the threshold into the parlor. Constantine had never seen the man in such an ignominious state.
“John!” The voice of Constantine’s housekeeper was almost unrecognizable as the single word trilled at an impossibly high volume and pitch.
Mrs. Haddock rushed into the parlor and knelt beside her husband. In her late thirties, Mrs. Haddock possessed a small stature, which was at odds with her sense of command. She led the household with a firm but kind hand. She was also pretty, with an engaging smile and serene blue-green eyes that never failed to put one at ease. It was no wonder Haddock had married her three years ago.
“I’m fine,” Haddock grumbled as he got to his feet with his wife’s help.
Lady Aldington came into the parlor, her features a mask of concern beneath the brim of her bonnet, indicating she was on her way out. Her gaze went directly to the butler and housekeeper who stood together. Mrs. Haddock’s arm was around her husband’s waist.
“What happened?” the countess asked with alarm. “It sounded as if someone fell down.”
“Haddock tripped,” Constantine said. “There is a cat in the house.” He turned his attention to the butler. “How did that happen exactly?”
The butler and housekeeper exchanged sheepish looks. “It’s my cat,” Mrs. Haddock said.
Haddock put his arm around his wife’s shoulders and held her against his side. “It’s our cat. We began feeding it a few months ago. It was just a wee kitten.”
“And it was very cold outside,” Mrs. Haddock put in, her features taut. “So we let him come in at night.”
Constantine had never seen his butler and housekeeper like this. And it wasn’t just because of the obvious affection they were displaying toward each other. They were united, facing a situation they knew could get them into trouble, or worse, terminated. Constantine glanced toward his wife and wondered if they would ever behave like that.
“We deeply apologize, my lord,” Haddock said. “We will find Grayson with due haste and expel him from the house.”
Mrs. Haddock’s face paled, but she said nothing.
“You’ll do no such thing,” Lady Aldington said, coming farther into the room, her gloves clutched in one hand. She wore another ensemble Constantine had never seen before. This was a dark blue walking gown with a military-fashioned spencer sporting two vertical rows of gold buttons. “There is no harm in having a cat. Did you say his name was Grayson?”
“He is gray, my lady,” Mrs. Haddock said softly. “And he has been a bit like a son to us.” She looked up at her husband, emotion glowing in her gaze.
“Well, that is just lovely,” Lady Aldington whispered. She moved to stand near Constantine, close enough that he could smell her vanilla-apple scent. Suddenly, all he could think of was last night—the lush curve of her breast, the sweet clasp of her legs around him as he drove into her. “Allow them to keep the cat. Please.”
Constantine blinked as he pulled his thoughts from distraction. “He must be managed—contained. At least at certain times. He can’t run roughshod about the house when we have guests.” They rarely ever had guests, and even then, it was only family. Still, his father and Lady Aldington’s parents would likely be horrified to see an animal running about. The thought of it nearly made him laugh.