And when he removed lids from a few of the plates, he sensed her relaxing again. “This appears to be fowl of some kind, definitely beef, lamb perhaps?”
“You are ridiculous.” But she was assisting him now, revealing vegetables and some mixture that might or might not consist of potatoes. “But it smells delicious.”
She tasted everything in tiny bites, making faces but also appreciative sounds when the food deserved it. Although she was a few years older than him, there were moments when she seemed much younger. Her father had thrust her directly into marriage from childhood, not allowing her to experience the normal rituals that came with adolescence.
She was delightful, Peter realized, leaning back in his chair having eaten his fill, as he listened to her share a story about her late husband. And yet only one of her strings was in tune. Because just beneath the surface, tension was building inside of her again.
That need he’d felt the night before. He’d given into it; hell, he’d more than given into it. But was giving in the best thing he could do for her?
Was giving in the best thing he could do forthem?
And if he did not, would she consent to see him again in the few days before he had to leave?
“You are thinking very hard over there.” She leaned forward, having folded her napkin and discarded it on the table.
“You know that I want you.” He wouldn’t play games.
She stiffened, becoming suddenly alert to his mood.
“But I don’t want this to be a business transaction between us. I like you. I…” He cleared his throat, suddenly wondering if he was making a mistake. “I’m coming to care for you.”
“But you hardly know me. You can’t.” Her eyes were wide with what he could only describe as panic. “This is temporary. You are leaving.”
“Brighton is not the end of the world. You wouldn’t even have to stay with your husband’s relatives. I could rent a house for you, but I know that you are independent and would likely prefer arranging your own accommodations.”
She pushed her chair back. “Unfasten your trousers, sir.”
She did not shock him this time. It was the manner in which she could take control of a situation. And watching her, his blood heated, his cock already hard, he didn’t have the self-discipline to deny her this—or, by God—to deny himself.
“Do you want me, or do you need me?” He undid his buttons, all the while locking his gaze with hers as she seemingly searched for an answer.
“Both.” Her throat moved.
“Then come here.” He slid down his chair and gripped her waist, assisting her in lifting her gown as she straddled him.
A moment later, he was filling her again, but unlike the night before, her face hovered a few inches from his. He captured her mouth and explored the tender flesh inside with his tongue. When she whimpered as she rode him, he tugged her bodice down and buried his face between her breasts.
“Miranda,” he breathed. In a single day, she’d invaded his soul. His music had been everything to him. He’d thought it had been enough.
Had he been wrong all along?
Her fingers tugged at his hair, stinging his scalp and stirring the most wicked of urges. He breathed in her very essence. He lifted her, moved with her, and greedily claimed everything she would give to him this night.
But her body wasn’t the only prize he wished to claim.
He was beginning to suspect that he might also want to claim her heart.
* * *
Miranda creptout of the room just before the break of dawn, riding home in a hired hackney, filled with conflicting emotions.
Peter was just so… transparent with who he was and what he was feeling. How was a lady supposed to respond to that?
Safely ensconced in her home again, she bathed and dressed and went over a few bills Herman brought to her. After that, she made her usual visit to the nearby foundling hospital in an attempt to reclaim some sort of normalcy.
She experienced only a modicum of success.
Because even as she assisted two of the older girls with their reading assignments, she caught herself dreaming of the night ahead, and then had to push such romantic nonsense from her mind.
