He dismissed all of the what ifs as he closed the iron gate behind him.
Moving dirt, pulling weeds and replanting some of the shrubs he’d recovered might make him feel like he fit into his own skin once again.
It was almost over. This interminable waiting would be over in three days.
He’d counted on the physical labor, but not the hot, wet heat, that had settled upon all of London earlier than usual. Before the midday sun, even, he’d stripped off his shirt. Perspiration dripped down his face, but he didn’t allow himself to stop and rest. Working like this made him feel better than anything he’d tried since he’d last seen her.
The pain, the discomfort. It gave him something other than Aubrey to focus on.
He lifted a cloth sack of soil onto his shoulders, carried it inside the small but sweltering building, and threw it onto the ground with more force than was necessary.
“I hope you weren’t thinking of me while you did that.”
Chance held himself still for a moment before turning around to face her.
By the circles under her eyes, and the tightness around her mouth, he wondered if she hadn’t experienced some of the same anguish he had. But she should not have! She wasn’t the one waiting.
But then her gaze left his face and trailed along his chest to the top of his breeches. She licked her lips and twin patches of color appeared on her delicate cheeks. He knew that look.
He’d seen it before.
She wore her hair up in a loose chignon and her gown was a simple one although it revealed a hint of creamy flesh at her décolletage.
“How are you?” He’d craved her and now she was here. A bead of sweat appeared above her upper lip.
“I miss seeing you.” Her eyes hadn’t left him. She wrapped her arms around her front. “The flowers are beautiful. The shrubs… everything.” And then, “I… can’t stop thinking about you.”
It was all the encouragement he needed to cross the room so that he stood only inches away from her. “Aubrey.” Her name emerged sounding strangled.
God, but she might as well have strangled him these past few weeks. “Have you decided?” The Season was not over yet but surely, she had to know. She had to know if she loved him or not. She had to know her own feelings.
“I’m scared.” But she licked her lips.
“What are you afraid ofPrincesse?” He peeled one of her hands away from where she clutched at her own arm and then led her to the bench and lifted her so that she was sitting, facing him.
“This.” She trailed a finger down his chest, sending lightning bolts of desire straight to his groin. “I loved you, Chance, and it was wonderful. But afterward, the pain was just as great… worse, even.”
Chance pushed himself between the folds of her dress, standing between her legs now.
“We never had a chance.”
She nodded.
“We deserve a chance.” He dropped a kiss along the tender skin of her jaw, and she tilted her head so he could trail his lips downward. “Let me love you,Princesse. Give us a chance?” He edged her sleeve downward. Ah, And the other. His lips trailed the gentle curves of her shoulder, her arm. She did not to stop him.
With another tug, her breasts were free.
“Chance,” she cried when his lips opened over one dusky pink tip. It was as though she’d fallen into a trance. As though she’d been fighting something inside of her and finally surrendered.
This woman was everything he’d ever wanted. She’d invaded his soul.
“Let me love you.” He murmured.
Her breasts fit perfectly in his hands. He kneaded the one and used his mouth to pull at the other. Uniquely feminine flesh puckered and stiffened.
God, he loved the feel of her hands in his hair. And then they moved to clasp his arms, pulling him up so that he could kiss her properly.
She didn’t say a word, but only made little mewling sounds, and moans.
