She cried out his name, his finger never stopping. Heat coalesced in her palms. The cravat smoked, smouldered, then incinerated, raining ash around them. Her hands fell from the sconce, and she landed heavily on the floor, nearly losing her balance. Thomas gripped her around her waist, steadying her.
For a moment, they stood that way. Both breathing as though they’d run, far and fast. Almost embracing. But not quite.
‘That was…’ There were no words. She had experienced a climax before. Many times, from her own efforts. But it had never been like this.
‘Are you well?’ The concern in his voice shifted something in her chest. It was the second time he’d asked her that question this evening. This time, her answer was honest.
‘I’m marvellous.’
He raised his dark brows, mischief dancing in his emerald eyes. ‘I suppose cravats are no match for witchy magic.’ Did her powers unsettle him? Because his powers certainly unsettled Clio. He stepped back but kept his hand on her hips.
‘I suppose we’ll have to use stronger binding next time.’ She tried to keep her voice light and steady.
Grey’s hands fell from her waist. He smiled with all the smug confidence of a cat who caught the canary. ‘I thought you said this was just for tonight.’
Blast!
She had said this deal between them was only for one night. But now she knew a little of what magic they could make together, and she didn’t want to stop. Not yet. She wanted more. Far too much more for a woman determined to maintain her independence. Even affairs – hot, passionate, complicated things – could trap a woman into commitments she neither wanted nor could sustain.
‘I just meant, if there was a next time.’
‘Will there be one?’ It was impossible to ignore the hope in his voice. In the end, that’s what won her over. Fragile faith from a man who seemed to have lost it somewhere along the way.
She wrapped the woollen robe over her ruined nightgown. ‘That depends. Did you bring anything sturdier than silk cravats?’
He shook his head. ‘You are trouble.’
‘Double, double toil and trouble.’ She walked to the library door and turned. ‘Fire burn and cauldron bubble.’ With a flick of her gaze, the fire flared, then burned down to nothing but coals.
‘Something wicked this way comes, Clio.’
‘Yes. And his name is Thomas Grey.’ She turned and walked down the hall to her room as his dark laughter echoed in the shadows.
15
Thomas woke early after a night of tossing and turning as fantasies spun out in his dreams. He never should have done those things to Clio. She was innocent.
At least, inexperienced.
Because no one was truly innocent. His actions should have scandalised her. She should have told him to stop. And he would have done it. But she had loved it. More than he expected. He half-hoped his sexual inclinations would have frightened her off. Then he wouldn’t be rolling around on damp sheets wishing for something that could never come to fruition. Not just one more night with Clio, but every night with her.
When he had first expressed to Lissa his desires for darker play, they had been married for over six months, and she was already looking for something more. With so much out of his control, he wanted to claim power over something. Anything. He knew he wasn’t satisfying Lissa and hoped his desire for more daring bed sport might meet both their needs. For a time, it had. A very short time. Because it didn’t change what he could not give her.
When it became obvious how broken their marriage hadbecome, and Lissa was demanding they both seek satisfaction outside of their vows to each other, the women he pursued were all experienced with dominance and submission in different measures. It was something Thomas knew excited them, and he sought those women out, avoiding any lady who might find his needs depraved. That Clio, such an independent and powerful woman, was so interested in submission, surprised Grey exceedingly. Although perhaps it also made some kind of sense. He felt out of control in his daily life, therefore craved that power in the bedroom. She was always in control, always driving decisions in her daily life, so desired a moment of reprieve where she didn’t need to make any choices. They were perfectly matched.
What a goddamned lie! I could never be her perfect match. Certainly not in anything outside of the deal we made last night.
A deal that had at least brought Clio pleasure. And hopefully a brief escape from the burdens she carried so effortlessly. The power she wielded was difficult for Thomas to comprehend, but he imagined, as with all power, it required an immense measure of responsibility.
And wasn’t that a wonder? Witches were meant to be evil mistresses of the Devil, but nothing about Clio was evil. Of the two, he was far more devilish than she could ever be. In truth, her magic wasn’t nearly as concerning to him as her stubborn independence. The woman would throw herself into danger without a second thought. Because she was far more capable of protecting herself than Thomas ever could. Which jabbed in vulnerable places.
The one thing outside of pleasure he might have to offer a woman was protection. Clio could manage that quite well on her own.
If I can’t offer her safety, and I can’t provide a future, then all I can give is desire. So that is what I shall do.
He rolled out of bed and padded over to the wall where abellpull hung. Yanking on the decorative rope to summon a valet, he moved to the small basin and water jug sitting on a beautifully carved desk. The valet entered as Thomas towelled soapy water from his face.
Best prepare for the day ahead. If his suspicions were correct, Clio might already be making her way to the nursery to interview Miss Anna, and he wasn’t about to miss their conversation. The investigation still needed to take priority, although any excuse to be in Clio’s presence would also work towards his more insistent goal: to show her a different kind of magic. A powerful fire they could conjure together.
