The heavy drapes had been closed and, without even a hint of moonlight, the room was pitch dark.
She would climb onto the empty side of the bed and then work herself slowly toward the middle. She hadn’t considered how dark it would be, though, and hoped she didn’t stumble over any unexpected obstacles.
She paused while another shiver took hold and hugged herself until it passed. He’d be as like to strangle her for a murderer as make love to her.
Almost surprised when her feet obeyed her mind, she crept in farther, holding out her hands in the direction of where the bed would be. From the sound of his breathing, he seemed to be sleeping on the side nearest the door.
One. Two. She mentally counted each tiny step as she imagined the size of the room and almost congratulated herself when her fingertips touched the fabric of the counterpane. She held her breath though, when the mattress groaned as he shifted and then rolled.
She did not breathe until he stilled.
But so far, everything was going as planned. The counterpane had not been drawn down on this side. She was exactly where she needed to be.
If only the bed was not so very high up.
But she had expected it to be. Penelope had even had her practice climbing into her own without the steps.
Inch by careful inch, she drew the heavy cover downward until it was out of her way. That completed, she waited for another shiver to pass before summoning her courage for this next step.
She placed one foot up and onto the mattress and then had to count herself down to three twice before practically vaulting onto the bed.
Although her heart raced, she didn’t allow herself to breathe heavily but instead lay silently, fearing that her gymnastic leap had awakened him.
He shifted slightly, but his breathing continued.
Even, heavy, and reassuring.
And then it hit her. She’d forgotten to remove her night rail first.
Eyes opened, she stared at what would have been the ceiling if not for the darkness. She would make a horrible spy, after all, in that she’d forgotten something Penelope had considered to be imperative.
She was pleased and surprised with herself, however, in that she had accomplished the feat of entering his room and actually climbing into his bed. She’d doubted her ability to make it this far.
Committed to her task but mortified by this next step, she squeezed her eyes shut, gathered the lower half of her night rail, and then maneuvered it up and past her bum.
Cool air hit her legs and reminded her that even with the gown covering her top half, she was quite uncovered and most scandalously… exposed.
She hastily slid her feet and legs beneath the counterpane and then lay silent until she was certain her movements hadn’t awakened him. She wasn’t quite ready for that.
The sound of deep, even breathing reassured her.
Slowly and methodically, she extracted her arms from the sleeves of her gown and then slid the cotton material over her head.
She could still change her mind. It was not yet too late. She could drop off the side of the bed, don her gown once again, and, if necessary, crawl on all fours out of the room.
But if she did something so cowardly, she might also regret it for the rest of her life.
She held her gown over the edge of the mattress and, taking a deep breath, allowed it to drop to the floor.
Indeed, sneaking into his room was utterly improper, but George was her fiancé.
It was not as though she was trying to trap the man, for heaven’s sake. He had already asked her to marry him. This was simply a matter of putting one’s cart before one’s horses so that one could assure herself that the horses, could in fact… er… gallop?
He should not be shocked or even scandalized to awaken to discover that she’d climbed into his bed. She wasn’t some debutante trapping a helpless man, she reminded herself again. She was a grown woman—a widow, attempting to seduce her intended.
Hardly scandalous at all, really.
Not at all.
Her breath hitched.
She could not help but remember the last time she and her husband had made love. Lawrence had already been weakening but he’d not completely taken to his bed yet. He hadn’t been able to hold himself above her. They had switched their position so that she was on top. He’d felt fragile beneath her.
Mr. Kirkley was a larger man than her husband had ever been, even before he had taken ill. Her intended was tall but also brawny and managed to appear quite vigorous.
She inched herself in his direction, and then halted, inched and then halted, over and over again until she was not quite touching him. Her breath fluttered when she was close enough to feel the warmth emanating from his skin onto the bedclothes around him.
I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.
In one determined motion, Margaret jumped off the cliff and pressed herself against him. He was not wearing a nightshirt. Oh, my.
Oh, my!
He was as naked as she was. He wasn’t as hairy as she’d imagined. His skin was taut and silky… Despite all the fears she had, she couldn’t help but relish this physical touch. It was as comforting as it was arousing.
And it felt…
Wonderful.
“Ummm…” he murmured and kissed the top of her head. “I thought you would make me wait, tease me a few days longer.”
He was not disappointed. Relief swept through her.
She slid her arms around his waist. Smoother than she expected, although tufts of hair on his chest and… lower… sent the most delightful sensations running through her.
“You are not upset? That I have come to you?” she whispered against his chest. She had not expected her reaction to his male hardness to be so powerful.
“I haven’t the discipline to turn down one as sweet as you.” His lips trailed from the top of her head to behind her ear. “You are soft. And warm. Does it feel as though I am upset?” He pressed himself against her.
She did not have to ask what he meant. She would most definitely not be forced to use her hands to ensure his enthusiasm.
Her own body might as well be singing and her mind—which had only hoped that he would consent to her seduction—rejoiced. Not only did it seem like he would consent, but, she noted as one of his hands trailed along her hip, he was doing so quite enthusiastically!
He worked his mouth away from her jaw to the corner of her mouth. “Such a lovely surprise.” His tongue slipped past her lips.
This kiss was nothing like the one he’d given her after she’d accepted his proposal. It sent heat spiraling to her breasts and between her legs.
Lawrence had only allowed her to kiss him with an open mouth on a few occasions.
George had never even hinted that such intimacy could be possible between them.
Margaret’s tongue swirled inside of his mouth of its own volition. He tasted of mint. He tasted healthy and clean and masculine and…
She strained even closer, resisting a most ridiculous sudden urge to cry.
This was what she’d imagined lovemaking would be. She’d loved her marriage bed with Lawrence, and she felt guilty for making a comparison. But it had not been quite like this. Rarely in her life had she ever experienced such mutual desire. Already, over the course of just a few minutes, she felt wanted, cherished, sensual.
A warm, knowing hand explored her skin.
When his palm covered her breast, she gasped against his mouth. When his fingers and thumb massaged her and then squeezed the tip, her gasp turned into a small cry.