She swung her head toward him, which brought their lips temptingly close. “Is it? Most men would disagree.” Her gaze dipped to his mouth. “But you are not most men.”
“No.”
“That is why I’m going to your house.” Her lashes fluttered as their eyes connected once more just before she pressed her lips to his.
Harry brought his hand up to cup her face, his thumb stroking her cheek as he kissed her back. Thoughts of investigations and the past faded away, leaving just this moment, this delightful sensation.
Selina’s orange-honeysuckle scent filled his senses, stirring his desire. She put her hand under his coat and clutched at his side, pulling him closer. Her tongue slid against his as they both deepened the kiss, each of them seeking more.
Harry gave himself to the passion swirling between them. It had been there since the moment she’d tripped into his arms—at least for him. Selina was the most unusual, enigmatic woman he’d ever met. Perhaps that was what had drawn him to her. She was a mystery to be uncovered. Right now, he peeled another layer away. Or was it that she revealed the next one?
As they kissed, she turned on the seat. He slid his other arm behind her and pressed her back into the corner, rising over her. He stroked down her jaw and neck and rested his hand at the base of her throat. He would be able to feel the skin of her neck if he wasn’t wearing his bloody gloves. Soon, he hoped, there would be nothing between them. He went completely hard at the thought.
She moved her other hand up to clasp his head, holding him to her as she explored his mouth, taunting him with her lips and tongue. The kiss was fierce and delicious, setting Harry utterly aflame with need.
He ran his thumb along her neck, then moved his lips to follow that path, kissing along her flesh. She arched her back with a soft moan. Harry slid his hand down, caressing her breast. She sucked in a sharp breath as her fingers dug into his nape. He splayed his fingers, lightly clasping her through the annoying layers of her clothing.
She moved beneath him, her body arching and seeking. Harry pressed down against her, his hips meeting hers.
The neckline of her walking dress prevented him from kissing lower than her neck. He dragged his mouth away and looked down at her.
She opened her eyes, and he sat back. Her brows pitched over her eyes. “Why did you stop?”
“We’re nearly there.”
She sat up, straightening and smoothing her gown over her legs. He noticed then that her hand was shaking. Alarmed, he reached for her, clasping her hand. “What’s wrong?”
Her head snapped around just as the coach came to a stop. Silently cursing the interruption, Harry opened the door and jumped from the vehicle. He paid the driver, then helped Selina out.
They stood at the entry to the alley behind the row of terraced houses where his was located. He meant to take her in the back for privacy’s sake.
Taking her hand once more, he moved close as the hack rumbled away over the cobblestones. “Have you changed your mind?”
“No. It’s just… I haven’t done this in a very long time. My husband… We didn’t…”
“Oh. Well, that’s all right. We’ll go very slowly. Or we can wait until you’re comfortable.”
She looked up at him and gently touched his jaw, her gloved fingertips grazing his skin. “Take me inside. Please.”
Harry tucked her hand around his arm and led her to the back of his terrace at number seventeen. He reached for the door, but she stopped him, putting her hand on his. “Wait.”
He turned to face her. “I meant what I said. If you’ve changed your mind—”
“When I left school, it was to take a position as a governess.”
She’d gone from governess to wife of a baronet? “Was that your husband?”
She shook her head. “Someone else. I was not anyone of import, certainly not someone who would meet or marry a baronet.” She spoke coldly, distastefully, as if she were talking about someone other than herself. “My employer was not a good man. He took advantage of his position and my vulnerability. He…violated me. Physically.”
Rage spun through Harry. “Who is he?” Harry didn’t care if he was a bloody duke.
“I’m not telling you this to gain your sympathy or your outrage. I’m quite capable of taking care of myself. At least, I am now.”
Harry thought of the pistol she said she always carried. Now it made more sense than he could have imagined. His heart ached for her, just as the fury she told him he shouldn’t feel anchored in his chest. “Then why are you telling me? Tell me what you want me to do.”
“Just listen.” The simplicity of her request quieted the anger inside him.
He cupped her face. “Tell me.”
“I was young, just seventeen. After he raped me, I left. I fetched Beatrix from school, and I’ve taken care of her ever since.” Her voice held no emotion but something burned in the depths of her blue eyes. “My husband, Sir Barnabus, was a kind and understanding man. He was also rather old and had no desire for the marriage bed.”
She’d never known a man’s touch in a caring manner. Harry was incredibly humbled that she trusted him. “You can still change your mind,” he said softly, gently caressing her face with his thumbs.
“I’m not going to. I’ve waited a very long time for the right moment. The right man. It’s now. You’re him. Will you take me upstairs?”
“Selina, my darling, I will take you anywhere you want to go.” He kissed her sweetly, and then he opened the door.
Selina couldn’t seem to stop her mouth from uttering secrets she’d long kept buried. No one knew what had happened to her when she’d been a governess except Beatrix. She was torn between feeling regret for having opened herself up to Harry and an overwhelming sense of liberation.
The latter felt much better, so she decided to grasp it with both hands, just as she intended to do with Harry. The sensible part of her brain told her to go home, to play the role she’d performed the past twelve years. But the part of her that was always pushed to the side, ignored and repressed, longed to be free to pursue her most basic desires: comfort, care, love.
Not that this was love. That was not an emotion she allowed. Not for anyone except Beatrix, because they only had each other.
Harry took her hand and led her up the backstairs to the first floor. His chamber was at the rear of the small house—smaller even than hers. Decorated in dark, rich tones of burgundy and sable, the room provoked a sense of comfort along with passion. Two things that might have been at odds, but seemed perfect when she thought of him.
He made her feel more relaxed than anyone in a very long time, maybe forever. While at the same time, he kept her on edge, both because of who he was and because of the attraction that smoldered between them. How different would things be if she were not a fraud and he were not a Runner?
He let go of her hand as they entered the bedchamber. Selina removed her gloves and then her hat, glancing around at where to put them. Harry took them from her and set them on a chair near the hearth.
Selina surveyed the room, but mostly focused on the bed against the left wall. Hung with burgundy draperies and covered with opulent bedcoverings, it reminded her of who he was. He might be a Bow Street Runner, but he was also the son of an earl.