Ian joined her at the window, and she felt the warm heat of a comforting hand at the small of her back. “I like him, Hero.”
She smiled at that. “He likes you as well.”
“You don’t have to do this all alone, my love.” He reached out and caressed her cheek and in an instant her worries fled only to be replaced by awareness. She finally noticed that he was still dressed as he had been for dinner, minus his jacket and cravat. His waistcoat was open and his shirt partially undone, allowing her a peek at the dark smooth skin beneath. His pulse was beating visibly at his throat, and she longed to feel the pressure of it pulsing against her lips.
Her own pulse quickened at the thought of his flesh beneath her lips, of breathing the scent of him against his warm neck. She inhaled unsteadily and clenched her hands before her. She missed their private moments together already. She missed him.
“The color of that dressing gown reminds me of your painting. Like the dress.” His hand reached out of the darkness as he traced the back of his knuckles down the slippery silk, but still Hero couldn’t move. “Since we’re here, should we dance once again?”
There was more than a request in his words, perhaps a hint at her uncertainty. In spite of his flirtation with Daphne at the dinner table, did Ian still desire her? Prefer her? Well, Hero wanted him to want her and had to know for certain. “Are you sure it’s me you want to…dance with?”
“Good Lord, Hero.” With a low groan, his arm lashed out to catch her around the waist and draw her close. “What a fool you are.”
She didn’t have a chance to respond but it didn’t matter at all when he pulled her body against his and dipped his head to capture her lips with his. Far removed from the tender kisses they’d shared in days past. His lips devoured hers hungrily as his arms enfolded her tightly.
Helpless against the ravenous passion that assailed her, she surrendered to his kiss, allowing him to part her lips, welcoming the sweep of his tongue with a low moan. His hands swept up her back and she clung to his shoulders, kneading his flesh as he did hers.
Ian lifted his head. “Tell me you want me, Hero.”
“Tell me you don’t want Daphne,” she countered in a whisper, running a palm up his muscular chest until it rested over his heart. “Oh, my lord, please tell me that you feel this too. It’s so strange and wonderful—tell me I am not here alone.”
He put a hand over hers and dragged it to his mouth, pressing a hot kiss to her palm. “You are not alone, Hero. By God, you are not,” he growled, as if the words were being forcibly torn from him. “You’ve drawn me into your web since the moment I laid eyes on you, flesh and blood. Yours is a face I have seen a thousand times, yet you became real to me in that moment. I know you felt the same. You have known me in your heart always. Confess it.”
“Yes, always,” she complied automatically to his command, as if the words were drawn from her very soul. Entangled in the aura of desire, she ran her palms across his chest until she was clutching his lapels and leaning against him in a sensual posture she’d never dreamed of engaging in with any man, most certainly not one she’d known so briefly. As Ian said, however, this was a feeling of ages. They may have just met but what she felt was ancient.
“This is not the stuff of a scurrilous affair, fair Hero,” he continued in his deep brogue, assuring her of his interest even more. “Mock me if you must, but I feel this is the stuff of fairy tales. I’ve never believed such a thing possible and, frankly, I feel a fool for confessing as much.”
“You are no fool, Lord Ayr.”
“Say my name.”
“Ian…”
Her chance for more words was gone but Hero didn’t care. This was what she had been waiting for. His passion unleashed. The full intensity of it was set free to be spent on her. He kissed her hotly once more. Hero moved with him and against him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders to hold him tightly. Through her dressing gown and thin night rail, the heat of his body scorched hers; the muscular planes of his chest and stomach melded to hers. His thigh wedged between hers, allowing the shocking ridge of his erection to press against her belly. One hand dropped to cup her bottom, holding her even more tightly while his other cradled one breast. His thumb teased her nipple and she quivered with desire, her breath coming in shallow pants.
“Ian,” she moaned against his lips, “I don’t know…tell me how to please you.”
“Ye are, my Hero,” he murmured thickly, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her against him. He spun quickly and backed her against the side table, setting her down on top of it. “I’ve ne'er been more pleased.”
Grasping her ankle, he ran his hand up her leg. His palm was rough against her soft flesh, sending shivers of delight through her. Reaching the back of her knee, he lifted her leg and pressed himself between her thighs. His hard length against her throbbing core. Hero gasped, his rumbled groan echoing the sound. “Oh, yes. Ian…”
“I want ye, Hero,” he growled into her ear, and the wave of passion that sizzled through her veins left her dizzy.
The crash of glass shattered the night and the pair pulled apart in surprise.
“What was that?” she asked weakly, her head still spinning.
“If it’s your father, Cooper is about to be thoroughly sacked,” Ian grumbled, turning for the door. Again he was left wanting, left with the pain of passion unsatisfied. The frustration was becoming unbearable and was working on his temper. If one of Beaumont’s nurses was again slacking in their duties, a mere sacking would be the least of their worries.
“You’ll have my blessing.” She slid down from the table, smoothing her dressing gown as she met him at the door. “What is it?”
“A broken lamp.” He picked up several glass pieces from the hall floor and set them on a nearby table. The small stump of a candle lay in the middle of the pooling oil and Ian picked it up curiously, wondering how it had come to be there. There were no candlesticks in the gas-lit hall. There was no table close enough to the broken lamp that it might have simply tipped and fallen. “Someone was here.”
The thought must have unnerved her, since she drew her dressing gown more tightly around her. “Someone was watching us?”
“Perhaps one of the servants passed by.” He glanced around, looking for signs of life around them, but all was quiet. He rolled the candlestick between his fingers once more before setting it on the table away from Hero’s notice. “Let me escort you up to your rooms.”
Ian retrieved the other oil lamp from the music room and led Hero upstairs and to her bedchamber door, where he paused. His barely banked desire rekindled as he looked down at her. “I’d like to join you inside. To finish what we started down there.”
