Seeing this stalwart of a gentleman at a loss for words caused her to push back her own seat and walk around behind him.
His head must be pounding again; she could tell by the strain in his eyes. He was anxious, and afraid for his cousin’s life. She put her hands on his shoulders as she’d done before and massaged the tight muscles there. “You are only one man.” she said softly by his ear. “All you can do is your best. No one can be responsible for the actions of another adult. Flavion is lucky to have you for his cousin. I cannot imagine many men would be so forgiving, nor so loyal.”
Stephen groaned and leaned back into her hands. “For Christ’s sake, Cecily,” he said in tight voice. “You cannot touch me like this.” Turning in his chair, he pushed her hands away and grasped her wrists.
Looking into hereyes, he could see that he’d hurt her again.
And yet she stood there, innocently tempting him in a delicate floral gown. The sleeves were slightly off her shoulders, showing off the fragility of her collarbone and the creaminess of her skin, and yet the material covered the entire length of her arms. Golden red hair was piled high atop her head, with wispy tendrils caressing her chin and neck. And her eyes. Her eyes offered him sanctuary.
Suddenly everything in his life took on a new meaning. Family, money, health… all of it was vulnerable. None of it could be counted on to offer security and comfort indefinitely. He’d not known true joy, true happiness, until he’d let himself love Cecily Nottingham.
And what of passion? Of passion and love? Would he ever feel this way again, for some other woman far in his distant future?
He doubted it. Considering that it had taken him thirty years of living to find Cecily.
Unable to stop himself, he pulled her into his lap and turned her face toward his. He did not give her the chance to pull away; instead, he covered her lips with his covetously.
He’d said he would not. He’d told himself it was impossible, immoral, and yet he was like a starving man, feasting on the only person who could assuage his hunger. “Cecily,” he murmured into her mouth.
She’d entwined her hands around his neck and pressed her body closer to his. Her mouth was warm and inviting as he tasted all around inside of it. He had a few hours before his appointment with Colonel Benning’s second — just a few hours before he must dedicate himself once again to his uncle’s son.
But this moment was his.
Settling her securely in his arms, he rose and lifted her with him. He would be utterly selfish. He was going to take what Cecily would give him and create a reservoir of memories before walking away from her forever. For regardless of what happened to Flavion, Stephen could not stand himself otherwise.
Pushing the door open with his hip, Stephen had no difficulty at all carrying this little minx up the stairs and into his own chamber. Having broken their kiss when he’d first stood up, Cecily buried her face in his neck. The warmth of her breath brushed the sensitive skin behind his ear.
“One more time?” Cecily asked as he lay her down upon his bed.
She was either a present from heaven or temptation sent by the devil himself. Stephen imagined she most assuredly was a little bit of both.
Nodding, he watched as she reached behind her head and removed the pins used to keep her hair in place. With each motion, he watched, mesmerized, as long silky lengths fell past her shoulders, over her breasts, and all the way to her waist.
When she stopped, a pile of jeweled pins sat beside her on the dark blue satin counterpane. Stephen scooped them up, and placed them upon the bedside table.
“Surely, we shall both go to hell for this.” He could not silence his thoughts. She was his siren. A siren he would gladly die for, but for whom he could not sacrifice his honor indefinitely.
She rolled off the bed, stood and presented her back to him. Wriggling her shoulders a little, she lifted one hand to show him where the buttons were. As his fingers began unfastening the long line of pearls, she finally said, “There is a certain hell awaiting both of us anyhow. Let us experience heaven while it is in our grasp today.”
She was glorious.
All traces of his earlier fatigue left him as he slowly revealed, inch by inch, her petticoats, corset, and chemise. The material of her clothing floated down to the floor as he unbuttoned, unhooked, and untied this most precious of gifts. As he revealed her skin, he pressed his open lips to her shoulder and tasted. She stood naked before him, while he was fully clothed.
He wore his superfine dark green jacket, perfectly tailored waistcoat, buff-colored breeches, and his newest Hessians. He’d been quite somber as his valet had assisted him in dressing that morning.
God, how she took away the feelings of powerlessness he’d had since the duel. He stepped back and drank in the sight of her. But not for long. Parts of his anatomy demanded he divest himself of his own clothingnow. His desire had flared into a fully raging fire. Not capable of waiting even a second longer, he went to remove his jacket, only to find that it was too snug for him to do so without assistance. Trapped by the fashions of the day, he could only tilt back his head and groan.
“If I don’t receive a bit of assistance over here, sweetheart, I’m afraid this will all end far earlier than either of us has in mind.”
Giggling, she stepped around her own clothing and went behind him to tug on the extremely tight-fitting jacket. The harder she tugged, the more she giggled.
“And I thought a lady’s clothes were preposterous,” she finally managed to say once she’d freed one of his arms.
As she went to release his other arm, he could not help but to pull her closer to him and cover her mouth with his once again. He loved the feel of her giggling against his lips.
She’d loosened the sleeve enough so that he could shake it off and wrap both arms around her without tearing his mouth away. “What a delightful valet you make, my lady,” he said, feeling rather rakish.
Unable to stifle her giggles, she pulled away from him and began unbuttoning his waistcoat. “Surely, this cannot be as fitted as the jacket,” she said, examining the garment curiously. When she finished divesting him of his waistcoat, she looked down at his boots and laughed outright. “Perhaps in the future, Mr. Nottingham, it would be best to removeyourclothing first. There is very little dignity, I’m afraid, to be had by a person while removing a gentleman’s boots…” Getting down on her knees before him, she grasped his Hessians. “…unclothed, might I add?’
