There were none.
“It was,” she agreed softly.
He had not just allowed this woman into his heart. She had made her home there.
He was in love with her.
Realization hit him in a blinding moment of clarity, so strong and undeniable, so shocking, he could do nothing. He stilled, staring at her. Losing himself in her eyes. Probably, he had fallen in love with her the moment he had heard her singing with Verity.
“Felix?” Johanna’s brow furrowed. “Is something amiss?”
Yes.
He was not meant to fall in love with her. Not with anyone. Indeed, he had not imagined such an emotion would be possible for him ever again. Not after losing Hattie as he had.
And now, he had fallen in love with the sister of his enemy. A woman who was connected to the Fenians he was sworn to defend his country against.
“Everything is well,” he forced himself to say. For in a sense, it was.
He had not felt such a sense of rightness in his chest since the day he had asked Hattie to be his bride. It seemed a lifetime ago now. He had been much younger. Not yet a duke. Not a father. The world had seemed so much simpler, the weight of responsibility so much less heavy.
“You are frowning,” she observed, glancing her fingers lightly over the grooves which had undoubtedly settled in his forehead.
That gentle touch was his undoing.
He nudged her fingertips with his nose, and then he kissed them, and then he withdrew his finger from her sheath, painting some of her dew lazily over her clitoris. She responded instantly, her body moving against his.
“I do not frown,” he told her slowly. “Not when a beautiful American is naked in my arms.”
“You are attempting to distract me,” she accused without heat.
He grinned, playing with her some more. “Is it working?”
“You know it is, you wicked man.”
“I am very wicked,” he agreed.
And he was, because he was going to make love to her again. And again. And he loved her, he knew her story, but he had yet to tell her his. He had yet to tell her the truth.
But he would not think upon that now, because Johanna’s hand had closed over his cock, and she was stroking him slowly. He thought he might die from the pleasure. Besides, they had time, yet, to plan a course of action. For the truth to be fully revealed between them.
“Bloody hell, woman, you are going to have me spending in your hand.”
Their lips met, and the kiss was long and deep, laden with promise.
She tipped her head back, breaking the kiss, her gazing meeting his. “I want you inside me, Felix.”
Those words from her lips.
God.
He was lost.
His cock was rigid and ready.
“Ride me,” he told her.
Her expression changed instantly to one of adorable befuddlement. She truly was an innocent, Miss Johanna McKenna. He would enjoy every moment of debauching her. He kissed her again, and then rolled onto his back.
