“I am glad I please you.”
“You do.Very much.Perhaps it is I who should be payingyoufor the privilege of your bed.”
He laughed.It wasn’t an easy thing to do—to make him laugh—and she loved when she managed it.
“They say the most famous courtesans only bed the lovers they enjoy.If that is so, then I must be bound for a wonderful career.I have made such a good start.”
He didn’t laugh at that.“Pray, don’t speak of that,” he said.“I do not like to think of a time when we will be parted.”
“Neither do I,” she answered with candor.
Such a soft, hopeful look alit his face that it made her chest constrict.
“Truly?”
“Yes,” she said, and kissed him again for his sweetness.
The idea that this man would besweetto her had never crossed her mind when she first met him in the drawing room at Carrington Place.
And yet now he truly was.
That night, they made love in a way that they had not quite before.
It was different, Beatrice reflected the next morning in the carriage.
Tender.Almost achingly so.
They had taken their time, moved slowly, as if they had no reason to rush or worry nor any cares in the world.
He had been so gentle with her that she had felt, inexplicably, like weeping.
She supposed it was because she had never expected gentleness from men.
But he had laid her bare and then made her come once and then twice and then again—until she was panting and nearly completely spent.
When he had entered her, she had been less sensitive than usual, and so they had both been able to take their time.They had fucked in an unhurried, easy rhythm, and he had kissed her face.
“I love you,” he had said, once more, which she hadn’t expected after she had neglected to return the words to him.“You believe me, don’t you?”
He had been looking into her eyes when he asked the question.And she had nodded her assent.
She had had men say many things to her in bed before.That she was a goddess, a wonder, the most beautiful woman alive.
But never that they loved her.Sometimes, later, when they had proposed marriage, they had said things to that effect.
However, she had never experienced a declaration so pure, or so passionate, as this one.
She did believe that he loved her.It wasn’t hard to see how he had changed for her.He was no longer the haughty, bitter man that he had been.He had become something else in response to her.
The question was whether such feelings on his part would last.
And whether she would be a fool to say that she returned his sentiments.
Because, increasingly, she felt that she did.
How could she not?When he was so vulnerable and open with her?When he was so tender and gentle?
These thoughts circled in Beatrice’s head as their carriage drew closer to Parkhorne Hall.
