He found he had taken a step towards her.
“After that night in the gardens with you, at Tremberley, I couldn’t forget you. You haunted me for years. You still do. So never say to me that you aren’t beautiful enough. You are the most exquisite woman I have ever seen.”Or touched,he added silently.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t have to flatter me.”
He reached out then—not out of lust, but because he wanted to convince her of the sincerity of his words. When his hand closed around her wrist, she gasped. He knew his touch was abrupt. But he needed her to understand.
“It’s not flattery. You have no idea how you have tormented me. After that night, I wasn’t the same. I couldn’t—other women…I had them but it meant nothing. I could only think of you.”
“That can’t be true,” she said, her eyes narrowing. He saw the disbelief there.
Even though he knew very well where he was, the last place in the world that he ever would have found erotic, he pulled her roughly towards him. His hands were on her waist and the combination of feeling her and revealing what he had long kept secret distorted his senses. He was both completely aware of where he was, how wrong it was to be here, like this, with her, and yet he couldn’t stop himself.
Not when she wouldn’t believe him. Not when she refused to understand the effect she had on him.
“I thought of going to you a hundred times before my father died. Before I ever read his will. I thought I would go mad for thinking of you.”
The mention of the will, of his family, seemed to shift something in her. She put her hands on his chest.
“I dreamt of you,” she said, looking up at him.
“I did more than dream.” Her eyes went wide. Even though his senses screamed out to him that he shouldn’t, that he was right where he shouldn’t be, he couldn’t stop himself. He kissed her mouth softly, letting his lips linger. He swore that he could become drunk on her sweetness. She was that potent. But he wouldn’t let it go further than this—not here.
“I couldn’t spend,” he said, laying another kiss on the corner of her mouth, “but for thinking of you.”
He heard her intake of breath at his confession. And then she pressed her mouth to his, pushing him backwards towards the desk. Before he realized it, his back was against it, nearly seated on it, and she was between his legs. Her mouth was on his and the friction of her between his legs, pushing up against his hardness, was too sweet to break.
Despite the haze of pleasure, his mind warned him about his location. The memory of his father and Mary Forster flashed in his mind, as it had that night in the inn, but this time it didn’t repulse him, but drew him further into her. He couldn’t explain why. Perhaps it was because of her complete domination of his every nerve. He was used to being the ravisher, but he had never quite felt the reverse. Her touch had him raw and open.
He broke their kiss and pressed his forehead to her own, panting.
Their eyes met.
And he couldn’t mistake her look.
He knew what they were about to do.
A knock sounded on the door.
“John,” Henrietta called, “I received a letter from Lady Trilling. She wants us to visit her tomorrow. Shall I write back and say yes?”
With a horrid crash, he realized what had come so close to happening, andwhere. He felt his stomach turn.What was wrong with him?
Catherine pulled back from him and was looking at him with alarm.
“One moment, Henrietta,” he choked out. “Just a moment.”
He put his hand to his mouth and cursed.
Self-disgust pooled within him.He was no better than his father.The words pounded in his skull, coming from somewhere deep inside of him.
When he felt Catherine touch his shoulder, he shrugged her off. He couldn’t bear her affection when he felt so worthless.
Chapter Twenty-One
After their encounterin the study, Catherine didn’t see John for three days. He avoided meals, sending his apologies through Mrs. Morrison or his steward, and left Catherine and Henrietta to their lessons.
At first, she thought she had merely imagined that John had been particularly upset when they had been interrupted by Henrietta in the study. After all, why would it matter? His face had fallen into a peculiar expression, as if something terrible had occurred, but she couldn’t understand why that would be the case. Henrietta hadn’t discovered them. No one was the wiser.
