“You must be knackered,” he said. “It’ll be a long day tomorrow. Come with me to the library. You can borrow any book you please, for as long as you wish. And if you’d like to start reading tonight… I have wine and two goblets.”
She tilted her head, her eyes unusually unreadable. “I would like that.”
But when he poured the wine, she didn’t drink it. She lay in semi-repose atop a chaise, swirling and swirling the burgundy liquid in its crystal goblet, staring into its depths as though the answer to a mystery lay inside her glass.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded.
She glanced up from her glass, the corners of her eyes furrowing with sadness. “I’m realizing how much I will miss you.”
He felt each word like a punch to his solar plexus.
“I’ll miss you as well,” he admitted gruffly. “You needn’t leave tomorrow, if you’re not ready yet.”
Her eyebrows shot heavenward. “I thought you were eager to have your life back to normal.”
“I no longer know what ‘normal’ is.” Scratch that. He knew exactly what he wanted: the new normal, not the old one. He wanted moments like these. Just him and her. And no shortage of torrid kisses. “Although you might not believe it, Matilda, I do find—”
She gasped and set down her wine. “What did you just call me?”
Oops.
“Tilda?” he guessed.
A smile rose to her lips. “I’ll take it.”
“Tilly? Tilly-bean? Miss Orange Peel? Mattie-Mat-Mat?”
She burst out laughing. “Did you write them all down?”
“I never forget a single word you say. I’ll never forget anything about you.”
She stared at him, eyes wide and questioning.
He set his wine aside and reached for her. She came to him eagerly. Their mouths collided. Their souls, their hearts. He tumbled onto the chaise with her, crushing her to him. Trying his best to hold her so tight, she would never leave him behind.
But he knew, come morning, if she asked him to…
He would stand back and wave goodbye.
Chapter 28
Matilda sank her fingers into the Earl of Gilbourne’s soft dark hair. “And me? Am I still to call you Lord Gilbourne?”
“My name is Titus,” he said between kisses. “But you may call me anything you wish.”
She smiled against his lips. “Anything?”
“Maybe not Gilly-Gil-Gil or your darling Gilly-bear,” he admitted. “At least not in public. Let’s start with Titus and see where we go from there.”
“Titus,” she mouthed.
His lips slanted over hers, and conversation was forgotten.
She would never tire of the warmth of his body snuggled against hers, or the possessive safety of finding herself once again wrapped in his strong embrace. His tongue tasted of rich burgundy, and his hands felt divine as they caressed her face and her back.
The chaise longue was barely big enough to contain the two of them, but with their arms about each other and their legs intertwined, their bodies had molded into one. She was in heaven.
Soon, his kisses strayed from her lips and began to trace a path down her throat to her collarbone, then just above the visible swell of her bosom.
