“You’re never going to see that pony again,” she said against his ear. “He’s going to sell it—”
“He won’t. Ponies are harder to sell than you think, and the boys know the value of a generous benefactor.”
He slowed as he turned a corner and began climbing the stairs, but he couldn’t wait until he got to the top. He leaned back against the wall to steady himself and her in his arms, then he proceeded to kiss her. Her arms were wrapped around his shoulder. She could have pushed away at any moment, but she didn’t.
She tightened her hold on him, she pressed her breasts against his chest. And she took him as thoroughly as he took her. It made no logical sense. His tongue was inside her mouth. But the way she played with him made him feel like both the conqueror and the conquered. And if his footing wasn’t in question, he might have taken her right here against the wall.
Instead, he carried her to her bedroom.
It was a simple room, especially by his standards. She had a bed, a stool, and a table for a wash basin. Not even a wardrobefor her clothing. As he slowly lowered her to the bed, he couldn’t help but imagine her in his bed, in his home, as his duchess.
“You deserve so much more,” he said as he looked around.
She pulled his face back to hers. “And what would I do with more? I would need to hire a servant to care for my clothing and clean the furniture.” She nipped at his nose. “You are spoiled with so much.”
He couldn’t disagree. “Not enough of what I need,” he said as he kissed along her jaw. She lifted her chin and whispered her delight.
He was still trying to convince himself to leave when he unbuttoned her dress. Part of his mind told him this was the last kiss. Or this one. Or that one. He could still keep his honor if he stopped now.
He did not stop. Not with her shivering at his every caress. Or with the way she gripped his shoulders and ran her knee up along his flank. Her dress was yellow silk that he did not want to rip, but the buttons frustrated him. They were on her back while his tongue was drawing circles along her front.
Still, he managed it. He pulled her upright, then kissed her neck as he undid her buttons. And as her bodice loosened and fell away, he was stymied by the most serviceable stays he had ever seen. Rough linen bound tight. He had seen horses with looser harnesses.
“What is this?” he asked as he stared at the hard fabric.
She chuckled. “Proof that no one goes where I do not wish them to.”
“How do you breathe?”
“How do you?” She tugged at his cravat until the knot all but choked him.
He pulled it off, shedding his coat and waistcoat in very quick order. She watched him, her eyes bright in the dusky moonlight.But he wanted to see all of her, so he lit the candle by her bedside and despaired that she had so little in her tiny room.
“Come back to the house,” he said. “You will be more comfortable.”
“This is where I work, this is where I will live after I have thrown you over. Why get me used to luxuries that I cannot have?”
He winced. He could tell by her tone that she missed what he could offer. Soft sheets, servants at every turn, and light. Candlelight on her skin, moonlight in her hair, starlight in her eyes. He wasn’t making sense, even in his own mind, but she took his breath away.
Her expression softened. “I cannot stand. Can you help me undress? I don’t want to crush the silk.”
The dress had gathered around her waist, a pool of yellow in which goldfish swam. He crossed to her and wrapped an arm around her ribs above the gown. She held on to him and let him lift. With wriggles—and a few giggles—they managed to set the silk aside. He folded it carefully as he placed it on the stool. She had so little, he did not want to damage anything of hers.
“Millie will come tomorrow,” she said. “She will bring me whatever gown your mother wants me to wear and take this one back. I think Emmaline will still be able to wear it, if she wants.”
“The gowns are yours,” he said. It was the least he could give her.
“And what would an apothecary do with a silk gown except get it stained?”
He had no answer. He hated the idea that soon she would be out of his life, that she would have no need for fine things. And while he stood there, thinking that he had to find a way to change that, she carefully untied her very serviceable stays and set them aside.
There was a tiny bow holding her shift together. It sat low between her two breasts. And as he stood there, she pulled at the ribbons and let the fabric part all the way to her belly.
His throat went dry looking at her. Such ripe perfection. She no longer seemed small to him but exquisitely formed and lusciously female. He walked to her, his mind and body filled with the sight of her. She reached up, the shift in the fabric teasing his sight with the full swell of her breasts, but it denied him a view of her nipple.
“Won’t you take this off as well?” she asked, tugging at his shirt.
He stripped it off without thinking. Then he knelt on the hard floor before her. Slowly he tugged the shift down her arms, watching with hunger as the fabric caught for a moment on the points of her breasts, and then fell free.
