She was right. They could do it quietly, undetected. Hadn’t Romeo snuck into Juliet’s parents’ home? Finn would leave with the first trill of the lark.
The music finally flittered away into constant and complete silence. The few stragglers in the garden made their way inside. It was at least an hour later before the ballroom went black. He watched as the lights in other rooms winked out, one by one, until finally the residence was encased in darkness.
And still he waited until he could discern no sounds, no movements, no stirring.
Slowly, he unfolded his body and removed his boots, stockings, greatcoat, and hat. He was no longer playing the role of highwayman. But was to be only himself. Finn Trewlove—who’d never taken a woman because from the moment he’d met Lady Lavinia Kent, he’d felt a need to remain loyal to her, even knowing he would probably never have her.
He’d been a lovesick lad for an exceedingly long time. Tonight, at last, he would discover if the wait had been worth it.
Lying in the bed, she was floating above where dreams waited, refusing to fall completely into slumber. She’d had Miriam prepare her for sleep because it was one thing to tell her maid she was going on an outing to a tavern and another entirely to confess she was going to travel the path toward becoming a woman.
She’d left a lamp burning on the table beside the bed, not brave enough to leave the gaslights glowing. A bit self-conscious with what was about to happen, she wanted a modicum of privacy, enough light to see him by, but not so much as to illuminate all they’d be doing.
She didn’t hear the door to her bedchamber open but was keenly aware of the light dance of fingers over her hair. Miriam had braided it, but after her maid had left, Lavinia had unraveled the tightly plaited strands because she’d thought Finn would like to see it long and loose.
Opening her eyes, she found him standing over her bed, his expression filled with tenderness, his smile uncertain as though he feared she might snatch this moment from him. But she wouldn’t do that. She loved him. She had for the longest.
Tossing aside the covers, she scrambled up to her knees, facing him, skimming her fingers over his beloved face. “I can’t believe you’re here,” she whispered.
“I had to wait until I was certain no one remained awake. And if you’re as nervous as I am, I thought you might appreciate a bit of this.” From behind his back, he brought forth a bottle with a label indicating it was whisky. Only then did she notice two glasses resting on the table beside the bed.
“Where did you get it?”
“Your father’s study.” He opened the bottle and poured some of the contents into the glasses. “Had to do a bit of exploring to find it.”
“You’re awfully sneaky, Finn Trewlove.”
He handed her a glass. “Not with you, Vivi. I’m always honest with you.”
Holding her gaze, he took a sip. She followed suit. “It burns.” She’d had a taste at his sister’s but had forgotten the flavor of it.
“As it works its way through, it’ll make you warm and lethargic all over.”
She took a larger swallow, coughed.
“Don’t rush it,” he said. “We have all night.”
She angled her head thoughtfully. “Why are you nervous?”
“Because I want to make it good for you, and I don’t know if I’m up to the task.” Finishing off the liquid in his glass, he set it along with her empty tumbler back on the table and shifted his gaze to her side. “Your hair is so long.”
She grinned. “Nearly to my bum.”
He glided his hand over the strands, following the path of those that fell over her arm. “It’s so beautiful.” His eyes came back to her. “You’re so beautiful.”
“So are you. I’ve always thought so.” Leaning forward slightly, she pressed her face against his chest. “I don’t know what to do, Finn.”
“I’m not so well-versed in making love either,” he said quietly, his words taking her by surprise, causing her to draw back.
“Are you telling me you’re a virgin?”
“I’ve never wanted anyone other than you.” With one hand, he cradled her jaw, her cheek. “I’ve a good idea how it’s done. I’ve just never put it into practice, so we’ll figure it out together.”
She rather liked knowing she would be his first, that he’d touched no other woman as intimately as he would touch her. “Where do we start?”
“With removing our clothes, I should think.”
She settled back on her heels. “You first.”
