Honora opened her mouth, then closed it, speechless for once in her life.
“I… want so much to keep you safe, Honora. I think I have found a way to put you out of harm’s way, once and for all.”
“Hmm?” she murmured, curious but distracted, as his hand continued to trail up and down her skin in the most decadent way.
“I think you should marry me.”
Honora frowned in confusion, quite sure she was hallucinating. She pressed a palm to her forehead, testing for fever.
Perhaps she was heat-sick?
Silas sat forward, leaning towards her on the bed, his overly long hair falling around his jaw as he planted a hand on each side of her hips.
His expression was fierce, his gaze heated as he stared down at her.
“Marry me, Honora, and no one would dare touch a hair on your head.”
She blinked up at him.
“They wouldn’t dare,” he added roughly, “because I’d kill anyone who tried.”
Oh.oh.
Well then.
But still, she said nothing, wondering just how much of his feelings he might admit if she gave him enough silence to fill.
His mouth twitched when she failed to answer, so he bent down, grazing her ear with his lips. “I see I shall have to convince you another way, sweetheart.”
Mmmm.Yes. Honora was dying to know just how he intended to do that, as his mouth slid down the curve of her throat, his breath warm against the pulse that thrummed frantically beneath her skin.
“Tell me to stop, and I will,” he rasped, as he pressed his mouth between her breasts and dragged it down over her abdomen, breathing her in through the light muslin shift that covered her nakedness.
His nose reached the dip of her navel as his hands stroked their way up her thighs, coaxing them to open before him. “Honora?”
It was both a question and a demand, and she realised he would go no further until she voiced her willingness.
“Very well,” she breathed, threading her fingers through the thick lengths of his hair.
He growled in approval, shifting on the bed, back muscles bunching as he settled himself into the cradle of her thighs.
His breath blew warm and sultry over her womanhood, her muscles tightening as she tensed with anticipation.
What was he doing?
Silas pushed against the back of her thighs, encouraging her to lift her legs up and over his shoulders, spreading her wantonly before him.
Oh, dear saints in heaven, Honora had seen something of this nature in a book she had found in her brother’s drawer, and the memory made her dizzy with excitement.
Pushing the tissue-thin shift up to her waist, Silas stared down at her most secret place with something akin to starvation etched on his face.
He licked his lips, fingers tracing the edge of her slit, and then he scooped his hands under her bottom and pulled her flush against his mouth.
Honora bit back a scream of surprise, her thighs tightening around his ears as he ran his mouth over her folds, his tongue spearing into her for one brief scandalous moment.
His rumble of satisfaction as he devoured her added to the torment, the scrape of his evening beard against her inner thighs a thrilling counterpoint to the sensuous glide of his tongue and lips.
He licked slowly over her, tasting every inch of her folds, latching his mouth around the pearl of flesh at the top and sucking with light, teasing flicks of his tongue.
