He followed her into the foyer and handed over his gloves to her waiting butler. She said a few soft words to him and then motioned for Callum to join her in the parlor.
“Tea will be here shortly,” she said as she paced across the room and then looked at him evenly, her hands clenched before her. She worried one in the other.
“Where were you and your friends this afternoon?” he asked.
She stiffened at the question. “Is that any of your affair?”
He flinched at her quick and overly strong reaction. “It was small talk, Valaria, nothing else. Something to ease the tension, though that was a colossal failure since you are looking at me as though you are ready to fight. And you’d win, judging by the fire in your eyes.”
She blinked and the wariness faded from her expression. “I…suppose I’ve spent so much of my life defending my position that I hardly know how to not do so. My apologies. I’m nervous, Callum.”
He could see that truth, written all over her lovely face. Slowly he approached her, watching for her flinch, for her refusal in some twitch or expression. But she gave no indication and so he lifted a hand and gently cupped her chin. “I’m nervous too,” he whispered.
“You? Again?” she gasped. “I’m still not certain how can that be?”
“When you want something, Valaria, and you are on the cusp of perhaps getting it, how could you be anything less than nervous?” he asked, stroking a thumb along the softness of her lower lip. God, but he wanted to kiss her. But he heard the servants coming up the hallway and so he stepped away instead and put a reasonable distance between them. “So, now that we understand each other, may I ask the question again about where you were?"
She nodded and cast a quick glance toward the servants who were laying out the service on the sideboard. “Bernadette, Flora and I were called to have tea with the Duchess of Amberleigh.”
He couldn’t help the face he pulled. “Oh Christ, she does live on the Row, doesn’t she?”
“You look horrified,” she said with a smile. “Is there something I should know?”
He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Oh, it’s nothing serious. She caught me and my one of my cousins sneaking punch and getting quite tipsy at a ball when I was a boy. The boxing she gave my ears still stings.”
She giggled and he couldn’t help but stare. Valaria was always lovely, but in this moment where she was genuinely amused, she was something far beyond that bland adjective. She was stunning.
“I am disappointed to report that the duchess did not mention your boyhood transgression when she noticed your arrival at my home,” Valaria said. “However, she did inquire about who would be calling on me and made note of how handsome a gentleman you were.” She shifted and the smile fell. “It is but a hint of the gossip that might follow us if we do as you suggested yesterday and continue our…affiliation.”
She blushed as she said it, putting Callum to mind of how she’d done the same as she came against his tongue. Bloody hell, he wanted to see where that blush went beneath the neckline of her gown.
He backed toward the door and quietly shut it. “If we are going to broach that subject, perhaps privacy is best.”
She nodded. “Probably true.”
“Tell me your concerns. All of them,” he encouraged.
She sighed. “I think I could control what is said from within my house. I don’t have many servants and they are paid well, so they might not risk telling tales about a pathetic widow who took a lover.”
“You aren’t pathetic, Valaria. Far from it.”
She ignored the interjection and continued, “But if we are seen together by those of Society, like the Duchess of Amberleigh, for example…I fear the scandal of such a thing might spread. And with it being so close to the date of Silas’s death, I wonder if the speculation might be that you and I were engaged in an affair before his death.”
He cleared his throat. Since learning that Silas was unkind to this woman, he had tormented himself with the idea of what he could have done to protect her. Of sweeping her away and rescuing her like some prince in a fairytale.
“I think you worry too much,” he said gently. “After all, Silas was my friend. My checking on you should not be misconstrued.”
“As what?” she asked with a shake of her head. “The truth? That you are bedding me?”
He shivered at that image of her wrapped in his sheets, their bodies rocking together as days bled into nights and weeks and months and years. He moved toward her again, just a little closer, but not too far. Still, she caught her breath and her pupils dilated.
God, but she was temptation embodied.
“Technically, Your Grace, I have not bedded you just yet.” He tilted his head. “But if this is too much for you at this point, if you want me to leave—”
She stepped toward him. “No! I-I didn’t say that, Callum.” Her hand fluttered at her side, like she wanted to touch him but couldn’t yet allow it. “I don’t want you to go,” she said slowly.
“No?” he whispered.
“I want…” Her throat felt thick, the words hard to conjure. “I do want what we talked about yesterday, though it might make me the most shocking wanton. I want to feel what I felt when you touched me. I want pleasure and I want it from you.”
That admission was as erotic as her touch, as meaningful as any confession he’d ever heard. He closed the remaining distance between them and touched her cheek again. “We’ll be careful,” he promised.
She nodded, her lips slightly parted and her gaze bleary with obvious desire. “Then will you kiss me now?”
He didn’t answer with words. He just bent his head and claimed her mouth.
CHAPTER 12
If Valaria had tried to convince herself that she had overstated the pleasure of Callum’s mouth on hers, the moment he kissed her again, she realized it was quite the opposite. She’d heard friends describe a kiss as explosive, and now she understood. The pressure of his fingers against her jawline, the brush of his lips against her own, the taste of his tongue, it was all so perfect. As if he had been designed for her specific pleasure.
The kiss shifted, deepened as he made a soft sound of pleasure against her lips and slid his hand up and into her hair.
“What do you want?” he whispered against her mouth, the words muffled.
She gripped the lapels of his jacket and lifted into him, reaching for more and more before she answered, “You. I want you. All of you.”
He pulled back a fraction, his eyes wide as he explored her face. Then he nodded. “Shall we retire to your bedroom? Because what I want to do will require far more than a flimsy chaise this time.”
She could hardly breathe. Here was an opportunity to say no. But she didn’t want to do that. She wanted exactly what he offered. So she stepped from his arms, took his hand and led him from the room. They moved up the stairs together, his thumb constantly moving against the webbing between her thumb and forefinger. And even that simple touch drove her wild, put her on edge.
When they reached her chamber, she hesitated. Once he came into this room, some memory of him would always remain here. That could be wonderful. It could be terrible.