Michael’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “I do not think—” He turned toward the door, to see it close firmly, leaving him alone in the room. He took a step toward it, only to be stopped by a soft voice.
“She offered tea, but I told her we did not need it.”
Michael pivoted, his throat tight. “Clara?” He blinked, his eyes finally becoming accustomed to the faint light.
She stepped from a shadow at the foot of the bed. Her hair—that luscious cascading mane—flowed loosely around her shoulders. She wore only a pale blue chemise, her bare feet peeking from beneath the hem. Even in the yellowish haze of the room, he could tell how the fabric clung to her curves, emphasizing the sweet mounds of her breasts, the fullness of her hips.
His mouth went dry, his mind numb. He swallowed, trying to find some moisture, but his voice still rasped and broke, as if he were a boy in the first throes of manhood. “Why would you do this? What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you.”
He shook his head, trying to free it of the fog clustering around his thoughts, and glanced back at the door. His feet felt embedded in the floor. “But the note—”
“A lure. A ruse. Radcliff arranged it. I’m sorry I deceived you, but I did not think you would come if you knew.”
Michael’s feelings spiraled between outrage, desire—and fear.She had arranged this!“If anyone knew, if anyone finds out, you’ll be ruined! We both would be—Of course, I would not have—”
“They will not find out. And if you wish, you may walk away. I will not tell anyone.”
“Walk away—” His voice broke again. He knew he should. To save them both. He glanced toward the door again, then back at the woman he craved, had desired almost from the moment he helped lift her out of a mud puddle.
And that was the emotion that swamped him now. Hecravedher, like an undying hunger.
“But I had to try.” She looked down, and her fingers curled into the fabric of the chemise at her thighs, crushing it in her fists.
Her words stopped him. “Try...”
“To be with you. If you want me.”
Michael tried to make his mind focus, but all his blood seemed to be rushing south, his loins tightening, the sudden image of her against him pushing away all other thoughts. “But you—you deserve better—”
Her voice turned harsh, and she looked up again, her gaze snapping sharply. “Do you not understand? I do not want ‘better.’ There is no ‘better’ than you. Only you. I do not want a lush bed, or a fine mansion, or a title, or an estate. I want you. I do not wanthim—and I certainly do not want to be withhimthe first time. Or anyone else. I want it to be with you. I am falling—no, I have fallen in love with you. I know a lady should not declare such things, but I am tired of propriety strangling me. If you wish to walk away, then we will both forget this ever happened, but I could not—” She stopped and took a deep breath, straightening her shoulders. “I wanted to find a way for us to have a few hours together. Just us. I had to try.”
The words flowed over him, a warm river that seemed to loosen his tongue, if not his feet. “Then come here.” He held out his hand, palm up.
She blinked. “What?”
He curled his fingers, his voice low and raspier and more demanding than he meant it to be. But there it was, the craving that overwhelmed him. “Come here.”
Clara took a tentative step, then another two. A fourth put her close enough that he reached out and cupped her cheek with one hand. She closed her eyes, pressing against his palm.
“You stunned me, my beautiful darling,” he whispered. “You have turned my brain to mush, as you always seem to do, and my feet to stone.”
“I did not mean to—”
“Shh.” He stroked her other cheek with one finger, then slid his fingers into her hair. Holding her face in a tender but firm grip, he lowered his mouth to hers, brushing her lips back and forth before settling into a deep exploration, pressing his tongue into her mouth.
With a long sigh, Clara melted against him, clutching his coat as if expecting him to flee. The press of her breasts, the warmth of her body slipped over him like a warm bath, and the heat that surged through him caused his breath to catch and his erection to harden even more. Michael slid his hands down her back. He tugged at the chemise as he eased from the lingering kiss.
“Let us take this off.”
Clara stepped away from him, and Michael lifted the chemise and cast it across one of the stools. He let his gaze linger on her bare form, wonder filling him that this beautiful woman stood before him. He traced one finger along her neck and shoulder, and she shivered. “You are so lovely,” he whispered. “A goddess.”
Clara giggled and put a hand to her mouth, as she shook her head. “I am hardly a goddess.”
He tugged her hand down. “Oh, yes, you are. And if you do not stop insulting my goddess, I will turn you over my lap for a sound spanking.”
Her cheeks pinked. “You would spank me?”
