“No. When I departed the last time, I left no one behind.”
He shifted beside her at this comment. Before, despite the smallness of the carriage, they had not been touching. Now, he was a bit closer and she could feel the heat of his body, pleasant and intimate despite the early spring warmth that had so oppressed her moments before. His knee nearly grazed her own. She glanced over at him, his face still in serious lines, and moved her own knee so that it just aligned with his. She saw his hands tighten once more on the reins, as they had when she had said his name. The sight pleased her.
“I grew up in the orphanage, as you know, in St. Thomas’s Street. I have no family to return to.”
He nodded, stiffly. She flexed the muscle in her knee that ran alongside his and was rewarded by a sharp inhalation from him. Oh god, but it gratified her. She knew she should be more guarded with him, but something about his manner—it made her want to push him further, to see what lay beneath his attempt at respectability.
“Have you ever returned? To the orphanage?”
“Not in many years. Although perhaps I should. But I am not sure why I would. Of course, all the children I once knew were gone. A few of the women who ran the place may still be there, but I know the one with whom I was most intimate, Mrs. Fairfax, died some years ago now.”
“I am sorry,” he said, solemnly, with a nod of his head, his eyes still on the road. The path they were on now felt very far from where they had been only minutes before; no other carriages were visible. Trees fringed it, affording no gaps to other walks or drives.
“Thank you. I must admit that I never expected to see her much after I left the place. There, you learned not to form attachments, even as a child. You understood that the orphanage wasn’t built for lasting connections.”
The private road, the solemnity of the conversation, and how seriously he took it, stoked something in her. She let her leg fall so that it rested against his. What had been only a hint of contact before was now unmistakable.
He swore aloud. He actually swore.
“Olivia.” She saw him swallow, hard. But she didn’t acknowledge it. She liked the tension of the moment. She didn’t want it to end.
“I never knew a different life, so it never seemed strange.”
“Did you ever discover anything of your parents?”
She was surprised that he would ask the question. That hecouldask the question, when he had seemed so disturbed by her touch.
“Not a thing.” She slid her hand onto his leg. He swore and jerked the reins, causing the horses to startle. He quickly subdued them.
“Don’t crash, Augustus. It is only my hand on your knee.”
“Thigh,” he said, his throat clearly dry, “It is on mythigh.”
“Would you like me to remove it?”
“Dear god, no.”
She had to laugh at that. And she wanted to explore. He had slowed the horses even further—they had been trotting before, but now they were at a walk.
“Do you not trust yourself to drive any faster?” she asked, moving her hand down his leg, relishing the clear power that she had over him.
He grunted, neither assenting nor denying. His entire body was stock still, his leg rigid beneath her fingers.
“What are you doing?”
“What I want,” she retorted, turning to look at him. Now, for the first time since she had entered the curricle, he looked her full in the face. His otherworldly eyes blazed and, in that moment, she could see straight through him. The desire there appeared bottomless. So strange, she thought, for him to look so ravaged, when he had been the one who hurt her. Could a man change so much? Could he really havesuchregret?
She moved her hand back up his thigh. He shuddered and swore again.
“Fuck, Olivia, I didn’t expect—”
“Shh,” she said, lost in the taut feel of him, reveling in his scent of leather and bergamot.
“Olivia—” his voice contained warning, his body tensing even more underneath her fingers, his eyes wide.
Then she understood why. She hadn’t intended to, but her hand now grazed another part of his anatomy. It lay heavy and hot along his leg, large and unmistakable. She did remember his size. She hadn’t fully appreciated it, then, not having had many lovers. But in the years since she had realized that he had been particularly well-equipped to please her. Not just in his length, although he was large in that regard, but in his thickness.
Now, she couldn’t help running her fingers over it. She kept her touch so light that it was almost nothing.
