Burnell was still asleep, one arm cast behind his head, his broad shoulders visible above the quilt. In the dark hours, Minnie must have jumped on the bed, for she was there now; on Ethan’s side rather than on Cornelia’s, her head resting on his foot.
All these years, she’d told herself she wasn’t the sort to inspire grand passion. She was not made for romantic nonsense; was too sensible to fall in love. She’d only sought someone dependable, someone who would consider her feelings.
But, last night, her body had told her what it wanted.
Last night.
Nothing had seemed real, yet she’d never felt more alive.
Ethan’s warmth and strength, and his voice—that low growl, deep and caressing; words uttered from soft lips, carrying to her in the dark, touching her skin, making her tremble.
Ethan’s hands were not like Mortmain’s. They were large and strong and coarsened by manual labour, with palms roughened by stone and the tools he’d worked with. Calloused against her softness, but gently masterful, hands roving her body, powerful and demanding and intensely male.
It had been wonderful. Breathtakingly, miraculously, overwhelmingly wonderful. She’d never dreamed… No one had ever told her…
Every exquisite inch of his manhood had been hers, velvet smooth, thick and hot in her palm. Then thrusting, feverishly faster, until everything around her had burnt up, and she was pure sensation.
Melting, molten, breathless and burning.
He’d been inside as Mortmain never had. Not just his fingers and his tongue, and his hardness. Inside her in another way—seeing inside her.
When Mortmain had touched her, it had felt like an invasion—something unwanted she’d had to endure. With Burnell, she wanted all of it.
It was as if he understood the years wasted, and what she’d dreamt of without being fully aware.
Slipping back into the bed, she curled on her side, nestling to the heat of his body. Shamelessly, she pressed her bottom to his groin. She wanted him to wake up feeling her right there—to know that she didn’t regret anything.
Pulling his arm over, she rested his hand to her cheek, then moved it to her breast, right where her heart was beating.
He mumbled and one heavy leg laid claim to her, moving over her thigh.
“Ethan, are you awake?”
In response, the hand squeezed gently and the rod nestled against her behind gave a small leap.
He nuzzled her ear. “There’s a storm coming, Nellie. You can’t indulge in this much sin without there being an almighty scandal.”
Cornelia twisted about to face him. “No one need find out. We could carry on pretending.”
At a pinch, they could brazen it out—proclaim they’d only been jesting the day before, when Mrs. Bongorge and Lord Fairlea had been treated to that barrage of audaciousness.
“Is that what you want?” He pulled her closer.
“I don’t see another way. Unless…”
“Unless you become Mrs. Burnell.” The lips so close to hers smiled.
“But, you don’t want that.” Her voice was very small. “You want to be free.”
In answer, he rolled onto his back and pulled her atop him, her thighs straddling his pelvis. The part of him that had given her so much pleasure nestled between her legs.
His eyes, half-closed, regarded her appreciatively. “I might be changing my mind. A man has to know when he’s beat. I’ll never be free—not now I’ve met you.”
One warm hand moved up her leg, coming to rest on her hip. “Could you do it, Nellie? Saddle up beside me, and take your chances with what comes next?”
Wrapping her fingers around his girth, she drew the pad of her thumb across the head. She stroked gently before rising above him, wriggling a little, angling herself, then gave her own smile of satisfaction at Burnell’s sharp intake of breath.
She was ready to ride.
Lady Studborne was not in the morning room, nor in any of the reception rooms on the ground floor of the abbey. At last, Ethan tracked her down in the duchess’s bed chamber, sitting on the rug before the hearth.
“What a clever dog you are, Binky. Five beautiful puppies!” Lady Studborne was bending over a large basket, containing a heap of variously-hued fur.
As Cornelia and Burnell stepped forward, there was a distinct growl from somewhere close by.
“Oh, hello both of you!” Looking up, the duchess gave a beaming smile, then turned sternly to the proud father standing guard. “You’re wonderfully brave, Hercules, but no growling please.” She stroked the Jack Russell under the chin and he responded with a respectful lick.
“You’ve been busy, I see, but you shouldn’t be crawling around the floor, Rosie.” Offering both his hands, Burnell carefully brought her to her feet.
The duchess sighed. “Binky started having her babies soon after dawn. Thankfully, all passed off pretty easily, and the pups are doing well. Aren’t they charming?”
“I take it your hunch about Hercules was right.” Burnell surveyed the contents of the basket. “Same shades of cream and tan.”
The duchess nodded mischievously. “Lord Fairlea will be disappointed, but I’m not. Benedict has agreed to me keeping them all.”
“Please do sit down, Lady Studborne, and let me order some tea.” Cornelia couldn’t help but notice how tired the duchess looked.
“You’re very kind.” Lady Studborne allowed herself to be helped into an upright armchair. “There are a hundred things for me to do today. The children want to give their little nativity performance this afternoon, and the staff are joining us for carols around the tree afterwards—not to mention herding everyone into the kitchen for the stirring of the Christmas pudding. Benedict has promised to help but he’s dreadful at sneaking off. Some nonsense about a new system of classification for his fossils.” She rolled her eyes. “I ask you!”
“Don’t worry about Studborne.” Burnell went to stand by the fireplace, leaving the other seat for Cornelia. “I’ll rally him into helping. Between us, we’ll get the hordes organized.”
He glanced at Cornelia, then back to his sister. “We’ve come to quiz you on something, Rosie.” From his pocket, he pulled the necklace, dangling it for her to see. Twisting on its chain, the facets of the ruby caught the light, making it sparkle.
Lady Studborne’s hands flew to her face. “Dear God! Ethan! Where did you—what have you been doing? I haven’t seen that since—”
He came to kneel in front of her, placing the pendant in her lap. “I knew it was hers, Rosie—or yours, I should say. Our mother gave it to you, didn’t she?”
With shaking hands, the duchess picked up the necklace, holding it in her palm. “The night of my turning twenty-one. This was the only thing of value left, but she wanted me to have it.”
Lady Studborne sniffed. “Goodness! What must you think of me, Mrs. Mortmain. Truly, I’m a most sensible person, but it’s such a long time—” Finding her handkerchief, she blew her nose and started again. “You deserve to hear something of it, both of you, now that you’re to be part of the family Cornelia.”
She looked reproachfully at Burnell. “I know you haven’t set a date yet, or made a formal announcement to the papers, but it’s plain to see you’re desperately in love.” She smiled weakly. “It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, there’s no hiding it—and I’m so very happy for you both.”