“Ah, Cecily,” he said. “I want to. I really want to. But I will not make love to my cousin’s wife in his own home.” His countenance had become serious again.
Perversely, she wished he would go back to laughing. It was the first time she’d heard him laugh. He needed to laugh more often.
“You will only pretend to,” she said, and then she moved her hips slowly against him.
His eyes darkened, and his hands grasped the tops of her thighs tightly, pressing her down against him.
“It would be the height of dishonor. I could not forgive myself.” His eyes were grim.
She could see he fought a war with himself.
Cecily leaned forward and allowed the straps of her gown to slide off her shoulders. She watched as his eyes flickered to her bodice. It gaped open, and she knew he could almost see all of her breasts. Almost, but not quite.
She shimmied a little, and the front of her gown slipped even lower.
His hands clenched and unclenched. His entire body was coiled with tension. The electricity between the two of them held a world of promise. She’d had no idea she could act so boldly. She had no idea she would ever want to!
She leaned forward even farther and allowed the full weight of her body to rest upon him. She then straightened her legs out behind her and slid them along the top of his hard and sinewy thighs and calves. The roughness of his hair made her feel incredibly soft, incredibly feminine. Feeling utterly safe, she relaxed there, as though his body were her mattress.
When she laid her head upon his chest, she could both hear and feel the strong beating of his heart.
His hands had come up around her, and he rubbed lazy circles on her back. “Thank you, Stephen,” she whispered before kissing the smooth skin on his shoulder.
“My pleasure,” he said with a chuckle.
Even better than watching him laugh was feeling him laugh beneath her.
Closing her eyes, her last thought before she fell asleep was that she wouldn’t mind terribly if Flavion didn’t discover them tonight, and they had to do it all over again tomorrow. No, she wouldn’t mind at all.
Stephen was nota deep sleeper. He didn’t require a great deal of sleep, and when he did eventually drift off, he came awake easily. Lying in Cecily’s bed with her tucked in beside him, he was acutely conscious of the fact that Flavion was likely to burst in upon them at any moment.
That being the case, he only managed to drift off intermittently throughout the night. And he slept only lightly, keeping his senses alert for any intrusion.
Although there was a certain painful aspect to not being able to satisfy either himself or Cecily, he experienced a sweetness at having her sleep beside him.
It was odd. He’d barely known her for twenty-four hours, and yet… he liked knowing he could reach out his hand and touch her anytime throughout the night. And he did so, often.
He’d find himself threading his fingers through her hair, grasping her hand in his and, on one occasion cupping a firm, full breast through her gown. And then an annoying voice would taunt him. “This is your cousin’s wife!”The battle persisted for most of the night.
Through all of this, his restlessness went completely unnoticed by Cecily. Even when he got out of bed once, to check in Flavion’s chamber, she didn’t stir an inch. Stephen found himself astonished that she could sleep so deeply.
And so, at the break of dawn, Stephen lay awake on the bed looking up at the canopy when he heard a loud pounding downstairs. Unwrapping Cecily’s arms from his waist, he slid out of bed and donned his dressing gown.
When he arrived in the foyer, Flave’s butler, Mr. Sherman, was just himself coming up behind him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Nottingham,” he said tiredly as Stephen cautiously opened the large front door.
Stephen did not open the door all the way but merely peered out at the irate-looking gentleman who was gradually drawing the attention of a few early-rising neighbors.
“What is the meaning of this?” he growled at the unfamiliar man who had been pounding voraciously for all of about ten minutes now. “What is your business, sir?”
“I’ll have satisfaction,” the man bellowed. “That’s my business! Are you the Earl of Kensington? Are you Lord Kensington? ‘Cause, by God, if you are, then you and I have a date in the park with a couple of pistols!”
What in God’s name had Flavion done now?
“I am his cousin, good man.” Stephen held the door open wider and beckoned the man in. “I do not currently know the whereabouts of my cousin, but if you don’t mind waiting while I dress, we can discuss this like two civilized gentlemen.”
The manharrumphed,and then Mr. Sherman led Flavion’sguestoff into one of the salons while Stephen retreated to his own room.
Damn, but where was Flavion? He hadn’t returned last night; Stephen was certain of it.
