Rafe kept his eyes on hers and surrendered to his need, and each time he discovered her anew, he told her with his eyes that now he had found her, he would hold her fast. That now she had found him, he had come home.
Through the haze of his passion, he was aware of her crying out, of her body shuddering again and her muscles squeezing him, and he let himself go too, and filled her with his pleasure and his hope and his love.
Thea’s body was languid against his. A cool breeze danced over them and she shifted.
“Are you cold?” Rafe murmured. They should get dressed and go inside to plan their life together, but he liked the feel of her.
“It is a deliciously wicked sort of thrill, isn’t it?” she said. “Being naked, outside. I cannot think why everyone doesn’t do it all the time.”
“Can you not.”
She was quiet for a moment. “Actually, yes,” she revised. “I can think of one or two very good reasons why not.”
Rafe laughed and hugged her. Now was the time for talking, but not here under the willows, amid the disarray that followed the giddy heights of sex. He stood and helped her to her feet. Abruptly, modesty snared her: She snatched up her crumpled chemise and held it over her, her cheeks pink, her expression distressed.
He caught her face in his hands. “That was beautiful and right. Even when it is over, it is still beautiful and right.”
She nodded, half smiling, but it was a wistful sort of smile, and something like confusion entered her eyes. It was the first time she’d ever made love, he reminded himself, and not to be taken lightly; the changes of the day were even more momentous for her.
He dropped a light kiss on her lips. “Come, let us dress.”
They washed and helped each other dress, although their clothes were a mess.
Thea gathered her loose hair and laughed. “Oh my, we look like a pair of urchins. Will everyone know? All the staff, and Sally and… Um.”
For these blessed moments, Rafe had forgotten everything and everyone but them. “Most of the staff do not work today, but the bishop and the others will be back. Wash, dress, and meet in the drawing room. We have much to discuss.”
Nicholas would advise on how quickly they could marry; he would find a way to put the paperwork right. Unless Thea wanted a big church wedding; later, Rafe would ask her what she preferred.
When they were both attired properly, and behaving properly, he would propose properly. This time, she would have no cause to complain about his proposal. He would find the words to ask again, and this time, she’d say “yes.”
Yet that wistful expression was in her eyes again, and before he could question it, she rose on her toes, planted a swift kiss on his lips, then dashed off toward the house.
Rafe hunted down the clothing they had left scattered through the garden, so it did not frighten any unsuspecting gardener the following day, and let his mind wander free, full of Thea and the possibilities of their life together. Hope swooped through him. Pessimist, was he? He laughed, thankful that he was, indeed, a different man after all.
Chapter 23
Even after she had washed and dressed in a fresh gown, even when her nakedness was once more buttoned away and her hair restrained, Thea’s body felt new and strange to her, yet newly and strangely right. Still, she felt Rafe’s hands sliding over her body, their limbs tangled. Still, she felt herself engulfed in him. It was beautiful and right, he’d said. Indeed, it had been beautiful, and it had felt right.
Even when it is over, it is still beautiful and right, he had added.
Even when it was over. He, too, knew it could not last.
She indulged in sorrow for a few minutes, then pulled herself together. She had wanted memories, and now she had them. No complaining. Whatever happened next, she hoped that Rafe would not hide away from her. They could enjoy this last evening together, before she left.
Thus fortified, yet oddly nervous, Thea made her way to the drawing room. She was almost relieved that Rafe was not yet there, for she was not sure how to face him, and she jumped when someone came in. It was Gilbert, bearing a letter. He chattered out an explanation as to how he had come by it—something about the messenger and church and the bishop—but Thea hardly heard, for her name (“Miss D. Knight”) was written in Ma’s hand and her blood was rushing in her ears. Dimly, she was aware of thanking him and then, mercifully, he left her alone.
Ma had written! Finally! Helen must have told Ma everything. Perhaps they would say they believed her and ask her to come home now.
She would still publish the pamphlet, of course; it was only what Percy Russell deserved.
Allowing herself a small laugh, Thea stood by the French windows looking into the courtyard garden. Her heart pounding, hands shaking, Thea fumbled the letter open and began to read.
Thea was standing in the same spot when Rafe came in. He was fresh and clean-shaven, dressed well enough for dinner with a duke, in his snowy-white cravat and the wine-red waistcoat under his dark coat. She liked that waistcoat, she decided.
She would like to press her face against it, press herself against that body made for hugging, feel his arms envelop her. She lowered her hand, let the letter dangle from her fingers. How she longed for Rafe to hold her.
Until he let go of her too.
He stopped in the middle of the room and frowned. “Thea?”
“I’ve had a letter from Ma.” Listen to her. Her voice was so bright it could serve as a chandelier. It might shatter like one too. “Lord Ventnor told her what he saw. Us together in the lake, I mean. His version of it, anyway. The version in which I am your harlot.”
“You and I both know the truth,” he said. “That’s all that matters.”
She hardly heard him. “Ma is pleased to report that Lord Ventnor has resigned himself to his son’s marriage and accepted them as his in-laws. Ma and Pa dined at Ventnor House. Where it was impressed upon them that, as Ma and Pa are now part of a viscount’s family, it is important for the sake of the entire family that they have nothing to do with me. They say my behavior has gone too far. I thought I was so clever, thinking no one would ever learn I was here. So much for restoring my reputation.”
He shrugged impatiently and started pacing the room. “Sod them. You don’t need them.”
“Oh, and Pa intended to give you my ‘dowry’ in person, but he will not do that now.” What a marvel, the way she made it sound like a colossal joke. Well, it was a colossal joke, and any moment now she would begin to laugh. She glanced at the letter, all loops and lines and utterly illegible. Funny. She’d read it only a moment ago, but now she could not make out a single word. “I cannot even demand they believe me, this time. After all, this time, Ventnor’s lies have turned into truth.”
She let the letter drift away from her, watched it float over the room for a few feet then land on the blue carpet.
In a rough, swift movement, Rafe scooped up the letter, screwed it into a ball, and hurled it toward the empty fireplace. It flew neatly into the gap between the ornamental fire screen and the cold grate within.
“Sod your family. Sod Ventnor and the whole blasted lot of them. You don’t need any of them. We’ll get married, properly, and it won’t matter what anyone thinks.”