So he kissed her, and petted her, fondled her gorgeous breasts and sank himself into the wet folds of her giving body. If a man persuaded a woman he adored to marry him this way with all the powers of his lips and tongue and hands and cock, could she refuse him? After such careful loving, how could she not surrender soul and heart and all desire?
God knew, he was as bound to her as ever he’d been. His spirit had loved her. His body had yearned for her. But now, buried deep inside her, hearing her sighs of delight, her cries of completion, how could he ever let her go?
But when his pulse returned to a normal beat, faint sun streamed into her window. He rose and looked out upon a snowfall. Large flakes, they’d make quite a lovely Christmas panorama. He had to leave her rooms before others were up. With a sigh, he donned his banyan.
At her door, she rushed to him. He bent to peck her on the cheek and she pulled back.
“We must be more careful,” she said with a small sad smile. “Lady Bridgewater has seen us. Others—”
“Lady Bridgewater was a dear friend of my mother’s. I doubt she would say a word against me. As for others, I think we may not be the only ones who have taken advantage of the arrangements.”
“That doesn’t excuse us. Nor does it mean others won’t mention what they suspect.”
Her words sent a chime of fear through him. “Do you say you will no longer receive me?”
She regarded her hands.
He stepped against her. She was stillsansall clothing, so natural in his arms. Pulling her nearer, he kissed her hair, her eyelids, her cheeks.
She was stiff, cold.
Alarmed at her change in attitude, he said, “I’ll return tonight. Happy Christmas, my darling.”
When she looked up, she had tears in her eyes. “I’ve never had a lover, Theo. No one but my husbands.”
“Sweetheart, I know.” He would have kissed her again.
But she shook her head. “I have a good reputation.”
Never had there been a word of scandal about her. “My darling, if you are worried that you will get with child—”
She shot backward. “No.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What?”
“I’m not.”
“Nor should you be,” he assured her, “because—”
“I won’t be.”
“Penn, what is this? What’s wrong?”
“Please leave.”
“After all that we’ve been to—”
She stepped around him and pulled open the door. “Please go. Quickly.”
In the hall, the Marsden butler Simms was closing a bedroom door far down the hall. He carried his shoes. He wore his own banyan. And his hair was mussed. His gaze met Theo’s but neither man acknowledged the other.
For propriety’s sake, Theo stepped out into the hall.
And Penn shut the door upon him with a snap.
“What in hell?” he murmured to himself.
Simms passed him, silent.
