Her father hummed thoughtfully, and when Victoria opened her eyes, he loomed over her, pulling at his chin. “What about their accents?”
“They did not speak.” She let her father stew over her answers for a moment. “Any theories?”
“While threats against you and your mother have always simmered, the group I suspected was behind the plot doesn’t appear to be guilty. That doesn’t mean they are innocent though. I shall keep digging until I discover the truth.” He sighed and fixed her with his unflinching gaze. It could intimidate even her. Heat prickled her face and chest. “Your mother seems to think you’ve avoided ruination.”
Victoria managed to make a sound that landed near acknowledgment, if not a full-throated agreement.
“I suppose we’ll see.” He raised a brow as if inviting confessions.
“I suppose we will.” The truth burned a hole in her heart, but she said nothing more.
His eyes narrowed. “I’m posting Garrick outside your door tonight.”
She popped out of the chair. Having Thomas outside her door was a temptation she would never be able to resist. “He’s exhausted, Father. It was a long night and day. Let him rest.”
“He’s the only man I trust you with, Victoria.” He touched her cheek. Her breath stalled. Her father wasn’t given to gestures of affection, and he had bestowed two in a matter of hours.
As soon as he stepped out the door, her mother’s maid took his place to help her into her night rail and to stoke the fire. “Is there anything else you require, miss?”
“Nothing. Thank you, Margery.”
Despite the chill in the air, Victoria didn’t retreat to the bed. She chafed her arms and paced in front of the hearth. She should be exhausted, yet a restless energy zinged through her blood, making her heart pound faster. She wasn’t sure what she was waiting for until a rustle sounded in the hall.
Before common sense could override the impulse, she opened the door, grabbed Thomas by the sleeve, and pulled him into the room. She leaned against the closed door, blocking his escape. He had lost his collar and cravat, and his white shirt gaped open at the neck, revealing a tantalizing dusting of dark hair.
Neither of them spoke. They merely stared at one another. Unlike at dinner, his gaze was unflinching and heated. She shivered, but not from cold.
“I shouldn’t be here.” He kept his voice at a whisper.
“I know,” she whispered back. Her father could conceivably check to make sure Thomas was outside her door, but why would he? He trusted Thomas implicitly.
“Lord Percival seems quite taken with you.” Was his tone edged in green?
“I don’t care a jot about him.”
“Will that matter to your mother?”
An ever-growing panic gripped her throat and squeezed. He was right, of course. Her mother was determined she would marry well, and while Thomas might be the best man, he did not qualify as a gentleman in her mother’s estimation.
Yet something in his tone gave her hope. If his aim was to put their mistake behind them so Victoria could secure an advantageous future, why would he bring Sir Percival up? “Does it matter to you whom I marry?”
“It shouldn’t.” Bitterness coated his words.
“Yet it does.” The lilt in her voice quavered the words between a statement and a question. The ground they tread was unsteady and dangerous, and she needed him to reassure her.
“Dammit, Victoria.” He looked… stricken. “You know it does. I can’t bear the thought of you in another man’s arms.”
She closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around him. After a blink of time that lasted an eternity, he pulled her tightly against him, running his hands up and down her back, from her buttocks to thread into her hair, tugging it free of the loose braid to tumble around her shoulders.
“This is madness. Sir Hawkins—”
“Doesn’t matter. Only we do.”
Thomas’s chest inflated with a huge breath as if he was preparing an argument, but instead, he buried his face in her neck. Her skin was primed for his touch. His lips sent shivers through her, and she closed her eyes. Her nipples tightened.
“If only that were true. This is impossible… impossible,” he murmured.
She felt his words as much as heard them. Yet he didn’t push her away. When he moved, he shifted her across the floor with him. She prayed the bed was their destination. It wasn’t. He sat in the velvet chair and drew her down with him, positioning her across his lap.
He stroked her hair and held her tightly. She felt too much like a child being comforted after not getting what she wanted. Unacceptable. She pushed off his chest. Any frustration with him vanished. Exhaustion bruised his eyes and sadness blunted his features.
She scrambled around until she straddled him and then took his face between her hands. His night whiskers tickled her palms. She smoothed his dark eyebrows with her thumbs before leaning in to kiss him gently on the mouth.
“Nothing is impossible, Thomas.”
His sigh was full of dark memories. “For you, perhaps. Many things have been impossible for me to change.”
“We don’t have to be one of those things.” Her certainty upon seeing Thomas at dinner was being crushed under the weight of reality, and desperation was taking its place.
She kissed him again, this time with more urgency, and grabbed hold of the collar of his jacket. His hands were warm on her back, pressing her closer. His cock lengthened and stiffened between her legs.
How many more opportunities did they have? How many shared moments remained to them? Was this to be the last one given to them? She would not squander a moment.
Victoria hiked up her night rail and fumbled with his breeches.
“Good God, woman. Are you to be the death of me?” His whisper was vehement, but he pushed her hands aside and finished the work, shoving his breeches down his thighs.
He tugged her night rail up and over her head. She gasped and dug her hands into his shoulders. She was naked while he was clothed. It took a moment to decide how she felt about the disparity. Part of her wanted to insist he disrobe, if only for her own enjoyment of his body, but she only bit her lip.
It was scandalous and naughty and offered her power when the rest of her life seemed beyond her control.
“I would have you, Thomas. One more time.” She rolled her hips, sliding her slick folds over his cock. The feeling was delicious. She did it again and again until she was trembling with the pleasure.
His eyes grew hooded as he leaned his head back and watched her. He skimmed his hands over the dip of her waist and up her torso to cup her breasts and play with her nipples. The sensation made her buck harder against him. Their first time together had been as gentle as the snow falling outside the cottage. This was a tempest.
“Take my cock in hand and guide me inside you.” The low rumbled of his command rolled through her like thunder.
She lifted on her knees and grasped him. He was hard and hot, and she was more than ready for him. After positioning the head of his cock at her entrance, she hesitated. Would it hurt like last time? There was only one way to find out. She lowered herself a few inches and gasped. Not from pain, but from the thrill the fullness imparted.
She craved more. Thomas slid his hands to her hips and stared at the joining of their bodies in rapt awe. Victoria wished she could see but contented herself with watching him.