Inside, Hortense was pleasantly surprised to find the roof had a skylight that didn’t leak. It wasn’t much on a night like this, but not complete darkness either. While her eyes adjusted, she leaned against a wall and watched Jamie prowl the perimeter of the small, plain room. That was the thing about follies. All style, but not much substance.
“It appears we are alone.”
Her ear caught something in thatalone. Her body caught it, too.
Above them, rain battered the dome, drowning out the night music of Vauxhall, drowning out the sound of her ragged breath. In silhouette, she watched him run his hand through his hair and flick the wet away. The room went white with lightning and her eye found his for that flash of a second. She shivered. But not from cold.
“Surely you’re soaked through,” he said.
“Sopping.”
Another lightning burst. He was advancing, toward her. She couldn’t move a muscle. With the next flash of lightning, she saw that he was nearly upon her.
“Remove your clothes.”
She gaped.
“You’ll catch a chill.”
“We are in a public place. I’ll not be removing my clothes.”
Although she couldn’t see the details of his face, she knew his expression with certainty: frustrated imperiousness. Before meeting this man, she’d never known that expression existed.
“Take off your cloak, then.”
“The storm will tire itself out soon, and we can—”
“Your cloak.”
He would be obeyed, so she did. He moved close, close enough she could feel the heat from his body, close enough she could breathe him in.
“Take this. It’s dry inside.” A brief rustling of fabric, then his greatcoat was settling onto her shoulders.
“Don’t you need it?” she asked on a protest that emerged weak. The truth was she wouldn’t give it up even if he answered yes. The leftover heat from his body penetrated her wet clothes down to her skin, to her bones, to another place, too, the place in the center of her chest. The place she would rather not name, not even to herself. No man considered her the way he did.
He brushed a clinging tendril of hair from her face. She wanted to nuzzle into his hand. But she resisted. She must maintain some shred of control. At least, that was what she had to tell herself. How slender the space between a lie and the truth.
“I must appear a fright.”
He shook his head. “It’s not possible.”
Maintaining his contact with her skin, he trailed his fingers lower to the line of her jaw, her throat, cupping her nape, tilting her head so her eyes met his.
“Last night was to be the last time,” she uttered.
“The only time.”
“But it won’t be.”
He angled his face, his mouth but a whisper removed from hers. “Last night was simply thefirsttime.”
A slow tremor snaked through her and curled deep in her sex, leaving no doubt as to the truth and inevitability of this moment. This was the next time.
“You’re so wet,” he murmured. “Here.” He pressed his mouth to the pulse point below her ear and her eyes drifted shut, her breath caught in her lungs, her knees went trembly. The effect he had on her…
“Andhere.” His lips brushed across her clavicle. “Andhere.”
Kisses trailed along her décolletage, as he pulled her dress, exposing her breasts. His mouth covered one nipple, and he sucked, dragging a long moan from her, her head arching into the wall at her back. His tongue flicked across the hard bud and a sound issued from her, a sound she was distressingly unable to control, a sound that was decidedly like a…
