And for now it was enough. Now might be all they had. He hugged the moment to himself as he hugged her and willed the moment to become an endless eternity.
He saw the moonlight overhead, felt the cool breeze, felt the soft, relaxed warmth of the woman he held, and allowed himself to feel happiness.
Claudia knew she would not be sorry—just as she had never been sorry about that kiss at Vauxhall.
She knew too that there would be only tonight—or this evening. Tonight he must return to Alvesley.
She was as certain as she could be that Miss Hunt would not readily give up such a matrimonial prize as the Marquess of Attingsborough. It would not take much effort on the part of the Duke of Anburey and the Countess of Sutton to make her see reason. And of course he—Joseph—would have no choice but to take her back since the betrothal had not been publicly ended. He was a gentleman, after all.
And so there was only this—only this evening.
But she would not be sorry. She would certainly suffer, but then she would have done that anyway.
She refused to doze off. She watched the moon and stars above the lake, heard the almost silent lapping of the water against the bank, felt the cool softness of the grass against her legs, smelled the trees and his cologne, tasted his kisses on her slightly swollen lips.
She was tired, even exhausted. And yet she had never felt more alive.
She could not see him clearly in the darkness, but she knew when he dozed, when he awoke again with a slight start. She felt a huge regret that just sometimes one could not hold time at a standstill.
This time next week she would be back at school preparing lessons and schedules for the coming year. It was always an exhilarating time. She would be exhilarated by it.
But not yet.
Please not yet. It was too soon for the future to encroach upon the present.
“Claudia,” he said, “if there are consequences…”
“Oh, gracious,” she said, “there will not be. I am thirty-five years old.”
Which was a ridiculous thing to say, of course. She wasonlythirty-five. Her monthly cycle told her that she was still capable of bearing children. She had not thought of it. Or if she had, she had disregarded the thought. Foolish woman.
“Onlythirty-five years old,” he said, echoing her thought. But he did not complete what he had started to say. How could he? What would he say? That he would marry her? If Miss Hunt chose to hold him to his promise, he would not be free to do so. And even if she did not and he was free…
“I refuse to be sorry,” she said, “or to think unpleasant thoughts at the moment.”
Which wasexactlythe sort of brainlessness about which she lectured her older girls before they left school, especially the charity girls, who would face far more risks than those who had families to guard them.
“Do you?” he said. “Good.”
And his hands moved caressingly up and over the flesh of her upper back, and his mouth nuzzled her ear and the side of her neck and she wrapped her arms more tightly about him and kissed his throat and his neck and jaw and finally his mouth. She felt the hardness of his erection press against her belly and knew that the evening was not quite over after all.
They stayed lying on their sides. He lifted her leg over his hip, nestled into position, and came inside her again.
There was less frenzy this time, less mindlessness. His movements were slower and firmer, her own more deliberate. She could feel his hardness against her wet heat, could hear the suck and pull of their loving. They kissed each other softly, openmouthed.
And it seemed suddenly to Claudia that she reallywasbeautiful. And feminine and passionate and all the things she had once believed about herself but lost faith in even before she was fully a woman.Hewas beautiful and he loved her and was making love to her.
Somehow he was setting her free—free of the insecurities that had dogged her for eighteen years, free to be the complete person she really was. Teacher and woman. Businesswoman and lover. Successful and vulnerable. Disciplined and passionate.
She was who she was—without labels, without apology, without limit.
She was perfect.
So was he.
And so wasthis.
Simply perfect.
