He made his strokes shallow, and she moaned in frustration.Good.The tease had her straining toward all the pleasure his cock could offer,if only he would just. . .
“I need more,” she dragged out between quick breaths. She wasdesperatefor more of him. “Please,” she begged.
Thatpleasedid things to his insides. He impaled her—deeper, harder, faster—just as she wanted.
“Yes,” she breathed in repeated litany, a plea, a prayer, her nails digging crescent moons into his shoulders, only heightening his lust, as she became wild in his arms.
She inhaled a deep gasp and held, the balance of the world suspended on the tip of a needle, as she hung at the edge of release. Then she tipped over into mindless oblivion, her quim clenching around his cock. He had no choice but to follow her as he broke, his climax crashing on him with relentless abandon, pleasure cascading through his veins with every pump of his heart, until soon—too soon—it was over, and he was left gasping for air, sweat trickling down the hollow of his spine.
From a distance, a thought came to him: He’d spilled his seed inside her.Twice.
Stupid.But the aspersion lacked any substance behind it. What was the worst that could happen? She could be with child? He would have to marry her in truth?
The consideration didn’t disturb him as much as it should.
She slid to the side and off him entirely. It was all he could do not to grab her and place her back on top of him,where she belonged.She stood and let her dress fall to her ankles, and he tucked his manhood back into his trousers.
She stared down at him, her breath still shallow, bewilderment shining in her eyes. She was wondering what had come over her.Raging lust, he could tell her.
“That was—”
“Unexpected?” he finished for her. He couldn’t entirely agree, if he was being dead honest.
The exterior door swung open on sudden hinges. In trooped Mrs. Gardiner, Tilly, and a young servant whose name had entered and exited Percy’s brain the instant he’d learned it. As one, their chatter died away and their feet came to an abrupt stop.
Although their expressions couldn’t differ more radically from one another, it was clear as the blue sky that each understood what had just transpired between him and Isabel on the sofa from which he was now rising. Eyes wide as saucers, the young servant’s mouth had formed a silent “O.” A saucy smile smirked about Tilly’s mouth and twinkled in her eyes.
And Mrs. Gardiner, well, her eyes had narrowed into razor thin slits and she looked fit to run him through with a curved saber. “Is all as it should be,querida?” she asked, low and hard. It was clear she didn’t trust him. Or any other man, he suspected.
“Quite, Eva,” Isabel said quickly. Too quickly. “Quite as it, umm, should be.”
While the words might lack conviction, the meaning behind them didn’t. She was assuring her sister that what had just transpired had done so with her consent.
Solemnly, Eva nodded her acceptance.
All eyes swung toward Percy. He took this as his cue. “It was my pleasure,” he began and instantly realized his mistake. It was that word,pleasure.Tilly snorted, and Isabel’s eyebrows met in consternation. He began again. “It was enjoyable”—another snort from Tilly—“to tend your nephew while you sewed.” He gave a slight bow. “Good day.”
Without a backward glance, he strode out the open door, Tilly’s mocking laughter at his heels. Once he’d been a spy and consummate liar, able to pull the wool over any eyes on the spot. Well, he was rusting up. Either that, or Isabel had jumbled his brain beyond all recognition. Neither possibility offered peace of mind.
As Percy made his way across the estate toward the stable, his step slowed beneath the weight of his thoughts.Do you trust me?he’d asked.Yes,she’d replied.
To have her trust felt like he’d been given everything he’d ever desired. Not to use and steer her, as he’d done with others’ trust in the past, but to protect her. It was with her complete trust that he could shield her from Montfort.
His heart soared at the trust he’d been granted, only deepening the addiction to her that no longer felt like wickedness. It felt honest and true and . . .Blast.
He was besotted.
That was the truth of the matter. And it didn’t feel so very wrong or wicked. In fact, it held not a trace of vice. He could upbraid himself. Try to talk himself out of it. Butwhy?
For her own good, chimed a small voice that had him crashing down to earth. She might be pure and good for him, but washegood forher?
In the darkest corner of his heart, he knew the answer to that question.
Right.
The light that had been, the shadows of the past—ofreality—stamped out. They understood the truth, even if the rest of him didn’t. He changed the direction of his feet. He didn’t need to go to the stable. He needed to contact Hortense and check on her progress.
The clock was ticking.
