Before they even entered the house, Mr. Dog let out a string of barks, and then welcomed them enthusiastically when they stepped into the kitchen. Mr. Bateman—Chance—released her hand in order to strike a flint and then light a few candles.
“I’ll fetch his leading string and take him outside.” Aubrey edged around the table. The Wootens were not home yet and there was nobody to pretend for.
She returned from the attic to find that he’d stoked the fire in the stove and put on some water. “I’ll take him out. You shouldn’t wander around in the dark by yourself.”
Aubrey swallowed hard, remembering the last time he’d taken her dog out. “Make sure he cannot escape this time.” She doubted he’d be happy to chase the pup through the fields in the dark tonight.
The day had been lovely, but it had been tiring. In a physical sense, yes, but also emotionally. She could not remember ever feeling so awakened, so alive. Knowing it would end soon, however, left her feeling exposed in an altogether different way, and that was coming to weigh heavily upon her.
“He won’t get the best of me twice, Princess.” Aubrey barely made out his grin before he turned with Mr. Dog toward the door.
Not knowing how long he’d be gone, she poured a pitcher of warm water and then taking one of the tapers, hurried upstairs. She’d not wish him to return to discover she’d done nothing but stand in the kitchen mooning after him. Once in their attic room, she reluctantly removed the lovely gown Mrs. Wooten had loaned her and draped it over a chair. The air was cool, but her skin was hot. Once undressed, she washed the dirt of the day off, as much as she could with one cloth, and then slid into her night rail.
He did not come upstairs right away. She heard the door close, and then other sounds from the kitchen. He might be going to feed Mr. Dog, or give him some water. She was tempted to climb into the comfortable looking bed, but they hadn’t discussed what their sleeping arrangements would be.
She wasn’t certain what she wanted them to be.
Follow your heart…
There really was no other comfortable place for him to sleep and the Wootens would expect him to bed down upstairs with her…
“Aubrey?” She jumped. She’d been contemplating the night so hard that she hadn’t heard him climb the stairs.
His hair was wet, and he’d removed his waistcoat and jacket. He’d slept beside her in the tent two nights before but being like this, in the same chamber, with only one bed, felt ever so much more intimate.
She could not prevent herself from staring at the curling tendrils of hair on his bare chest revealed as he’d unfastened the buttons at the top of his shirt.
This could very well be her only opportunity.
She licked her lips and gathered all the courage she could muster. How, exactly, did a lady go about offering herself to a man? With the light of only two candles, Aubrey stared at him solemnly, then reached down and lifted her night rail up and over her head.
By the time she dropped it on the floor she could not turn back.
He stood frozen, staring at her, all the laughter normally present, now absent from his eyes. She could see by the rise and fall of his chest, however, that he was not unmoved.
“Aubrey,” he spoke her name on a groan, almost as though he was in physical pain.
“We should consummate our marriage.” Aubrey wondered how she had the audacity to utter something so shamelessly wanton.
“It wouldn’t be fair to you,” but his eyes roved over her nakedness and he’d moved closer. So close that his scent surrounded her. “I cannot—“
Aubrey reached out and stopped his words with her fingertips. She allowed her other hand to part the top of his shirt so that she could touch the hairs she’d found fascinating just moments before.
If she did not have him now, she was certain, she would regret it for the rest of her life.
“I have not known love, Chance. I have not known physical satisfaction with a man. It is all I ask of you tonight. Just for tonight, won’t you love me?”
His jaw clenched and his throat moved as he swallowed hard.
“Please?” She added.
It was then that his eyes changed from tormented self-control to something else—something wild. He licked his lips at the same time he reached to unfasten his falls.
“You’ll hate me someday, Aubrey, I promise you that.” He whipped his shirt over his head.
“I will never hate you,” she vowed. They stood very close to each other without touching. Aubrey needed him to know she would not change her mind. For so much of her life she’d suppressed her wants, her desires. On this night, perhaps this night only, she would free them
“Que Dieu me vienne en aide!” He groaned as she dragged her fingertips along his chest, between his hard but flat nipples, to a smooth line between the sinewy muscles of his abdomen. He let out a hiss when her fingertips circled his navel.
