She took his hand again. He let her and smiled down at her.
“May I tell you something?”
He nodded slowly. “Anything.”
She felt heat flooding her cheeks and sucked in a breath in the hopes it would calm her. It didn’t work. His expression grew concerned and he guided her to the settee before the fire. They sat there together, hands entangled against his thigh.
“Tell me,” he said gently.
“When I confessed to you about Erasmus…I…I left something out.” She hated how her voice cracked. “Even Priscilla doesn’t know.”
“What is it?”
“After everything happened, after I found out the truth, I…I thought I might be with child.” Tears jumped to her eyes at the memory.
He caught his breath. “Oh no.”
She nodded. “For weeks, I had no idea what to do. My brother had shuttled me off to the country, I was terrified because the consequences would have been so dire. So for weeks I waited and hoped and feared. I looked into healers who might help me handle the situation if it came to that. And then…” She shook her head. “Then my courses came. There was no baby.”
“You must have been relieved,” he said.
“Entirely relieved, yes. And I know it isn’t the same as what you must feel. But during those horrible weeks I was completely alone. I couldn’t bring anyone into my terror, I had to think and plan and fear all alone.”
He stared down at her. “It is the same. And no, my duties and all that comes with them cannot be alleviated so simply, but I do appreciate that you have felt what I feel. That weight that is like a house being pressed down on you.”
“Yes. Or a palace. Or a country.” She reached up and traced his cheek with her fingertips, reveling in the hint of scratchy stubble that reminded her he was a man, not a statue in a garden. He was real and he was here with her, no matter how short their time was. “Can I help you relieve it?”
“I would very much like that.”
He leaned in, gliding his fingers into her hair. She shivered as the pins loosened, slid free, and her locks fell around his hands, tangling and looping them together. She lifted her mouth and closed her eyes, waiting for his kiss, but it never came. At last, she opened one eye.
“If you just lean in, Your Majesty, and press your mouth to mine, it is called a kiss,” she said, reverting to teasing because he looked so thoughtful.
He snorted a laugh. “Oh yes, I do recall, my lady. But I was just thinking that every time we have done this, it has been perched precariously on a settee. And I would like to finally bed you in my actual bed. So will you come with me?”
She nodded, rising when he rose, following as he took her to the doorway on the left side of the antechamber and through it as he opened it. Once again, she caught her breath. This room was bigger than the last. Dominated by a huge bed against the wall, facing the window. Even in the darkness of the middle of the night, she saw the moonlight reflected on the sea far below.
“Beautiful,” she murmured.
He drew her to his chest, and this time he did kiss her. “Oh yes, you are.”
She shivered. This man was such a dichotomy. He could frustrate her and arouse her, sometimes in the same breath. He left her challenged and needy whenever they were near each other. And she wanted nothing more than to have that feeling for as long as she could.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and the kiss deepened, slow at first, but growing in intensity and desperation the longer it went on. His fingers dug into her hair again and he tilted her face up, making her look at him. His expression was dark, filled with desire, hungry for her, and her entire body reacted to that rarely seen side of this man.
“I’m going to make you come, Ophelia,” he whispered, his voice harsh. “I’m going to do that over and over again until you are weak with it. Until you don’t remember anything but my name.”
She nodded, the action restricted by his grip against her hair. “Yes,” she whimpered, giving herself over completely, knowing she might not ever get everything back in the end. “Yes, yes, please yes.”
CHAPTER 16
Ophelia felt the shift in Grantham the moment she said yes, giving her full and enthusiastic permission for whatever he wanted to do to her. His movement became animal, hard, intoxicating, and his gaze more focused.
He didn’t speak, but spun her around, pulling her backside against his pelvis, grinding the very hard cock she now felt against her. She gasped at the feeling, at the swift and efficient way he stripped the buttons along her spine open. He shoved the dress forward, trapping her arms in the fabric before he leaned into her, arching her back as he kissed her neck, down the line of her spine through her chemise.
“God, you smell good,” he groaned against her shoulder. “I shall never forget it.”
She smiled, then gasped as he caught her chemise strap with his teeth and began to drag it down. He traced his way back up with his tongue, kissing and sucking and teasing all the way. Pleasure followed, heated and powerful. It was such a strange thing to realize that her entire body was his instrument, not just her sex or her breasts or her mouth. Every part of her responded to him, as if she had been sleeping and only he could wake her.
He tugged the other chemise strap down with his fingers as he kissed the side of her neck. She ground back against him, breath shortening, and he chuckled against her skin.
“The things you do to me,” he grunted. “I always knew you were trouble.”
Now she laughed, though it was shaky, shakier still when he pulled the dress and underthings away to bunch at her waist and pressed each of her hands on the edge of the mattress. She leaned forward, presenting herself as he clearly desired.
“I knew it,” she teased. “From the moment you met me, I knew you didn’t like me.”
“I liked you fine,” he drawled. “I liked you too much. I said you were trouble, that is different.”
His hands moved as he spoke, sliding down her back and sides with firm pressure, under what was left of her gown. He let it pool at her feet and she kicked it away. Now she was just in her stockings and slippers, her backside bare.
He hesitated and she looked over her shoulder to find him staring at her, eyes wide, as if he had never seen her…never seen any woman…before. She circled her hips slowly, loving how his pupils dilated with desire, how he extended his shaking hands and cupped her hips, pulling her back possessively.
He massaged there gently, his thumbs tracing her backside, lower and lower, until he was spreading her lightly, opening her. She widened her stance, lifting herself and knowing she was lewdly presenting her sex like an animal in heat.
Not the worst comparison. Certainly she felt heated. She wanted what he could offer. She wanted everything. He gave it, moving one hand between her legs, stroking her gently.
She shivered, dropping her head down, closing her eyes to focus on the sensation. He massaged, the perfect pressure against her outer lips, the teasing dip past them. She ground back, her fingers gripping the coverlet, her moans and his ragged breath the only sound in the quiet.
“Turn around,” he whispered, his mouth close to her ear.
She did, and found her back pressed hard into the edge of the mattress. He leaned in to kiss her mouth and she lifted into him with a needy whimper. He plundered her and she loved it. Loved that he was as lost as she was. Loved that he wanted her so much that he could forget who he was, even for a moment.