The pins from her hair landed upon the desk behind her as Arthur discarded them. She felt her hair fall to her shoulders, then his fingers slid into its length with possessive ease.
“Like honey,” he whispered with a surprising reverence. He lifted the weight of her hair aside, kissing her slowly beneath her ear. She felt the quick flick of his tongue, the graze of his teeth upon her earlobe, and was certain her heart would burst when it beat so fast.
She heard herself whisper his name, her voice trembling.
“Shall we commence the hunt?” he whispered in her ear, his fingertips sliding down her back. His other hand rose to her breast, his thumb sliding across the nipple so firmly that she gasped aloud. Patience felt both hot and shivery, filled with a desperation to know more.
“The hunt?” she echoed.
Arthur smiled. He bent and nuzzled her beneath her ear, sliding his teeth across her earlobe before kissing it. Patience caught her breath, then shivered at the murmur of his words so close in her ear. “For your bewitching spot, of course,” he whispered, a thread of humor in his tone.
Patience might have laughed under normal circumstance, but this was too overwhelming. “I wager you know where to seek it,” she whispered and felt the breath of his laughter.
“I do.” He cupped her face in his hands, smiling as he backed her into the small desk. His hips were pressed against hers, his chest almost against her breasts, a proximity that sent fire through her veins. His leg eased between hers, a move that felt outrageously intimate even though they were both fully dressed. She caught her breath at the feel of his thigh between her own, so firm and powerful. His gaze was unswerving and so hot that her mouth went dry.
Patience could not take a full breath. She hated the sudden awareness that she was no more in command of herself or her situation than a leaf blown in the wind.
Could he desire her this much? She wanted to believe his response was honest, but feared it might not be. Perhaps he could burn for a great beauty, or a rich heiress, but not for plain Patience whose price was the publication of books with his fortune.
Once she surrendered to him and this deed, she might be consumed so completely that she might as well cease to exist. There would be only her husband’s expectations and demands, her duty to deliver a son, and his wishes, whatever they might be. She feared that she stood on the cusp of losing herself forever and despite the temptation, Patience could not bear that truth.
She spun away from Arthur and retreated a few steps, desperately needing to gather her thoughts. He watched her avidly, as if she were one of the fascinating beauties of theton, and that only bolstered her sense that his fascination was feigned. No man had ever looked at her as if she held the key to every hoard of treasure known to mankind.
Certainly, no man of the ilk of Arthur Beckham had ever done as much.
“What is amiss?” he asked, leaning against the desk to watch her. His confidence, as ever, was disconcerting, and she found her words spilling forth.
“Catherine gave me a missive, addressed to the both of us,” she said, knowing she sounded prim and practical but unable to help herself. “It seems a good moment to savor her good wishes for our match.” The very practicality of her own suggestion helped her to regain her usual composure.
“Does it?” His tone was calm, but his eyes had narrowed slightly. “I should have thought such felicitations could wait a little while.”
“Surely there is time.” She knew she sounded breathless when she replied.
“Surely there is a more pressing demand.”
“What might that be?” Her voice fairly squeaked.
“It is our wedding day, Patience.” The way he said her name made her heart thrum in a most irrational way. “We will celebrate our union.Thatis our course for the immediate future.” His lashes swept down as he surveyed her. When he met her gaze, his own filled with hunger, she nearly jumped. “It might take some time.” He smiled a little, clearly anticipating that endeavor.
Patience caught her breath and averted her gaze. “I was thinking of the book,” she lied. She thought of no such thing. She thought of Arthur’s lips upon her earlobe and the resulting sense that she stood on the lip of an abyss, that she could tumble into sensation and be lost forever.
It was utterly unlike her, a temptation to madness, a sure sign that she lost command of herself already.
“The book?” he echoed. She realized he was very still and her heart fluttered.
“The one we will publish, of course. The book at the root of our entire arrangement!”
“Ah yes, the book.”
“Catherine might have surrendered a part of it, to offer advice for this night.”
Arthur chuckled, his expression was so wicked that Patience caught her breath. “I assure you that I have no need of advice upon matters of intimacy. I guarantee that I shall see you satisfied.” He beckoned to her with one finger, his surety proving his experience to be more complete than her own. She felt she was invited by the devil himself to partake of some forbidden pleasure, and was more tempted than she had ever been before. “Come and find out, my lady.”
Patience forced herself to be resolute. Such revels could wait, if indeed he meant to keep his pledge. She needed an assurance before she surrendered, a gesture of good faith, a proof of his commitment to their shared future.
Arthur waited, those eyes gleaming. “Tell me, Patience,” he invited, his gaze so fixed upon her that he might read the very truth in her eyes. Patience felt her lips part. She knew she clutched a fistful of her dress. She could not look away from him.
And yet, she had to be sure.
