With Lavinia, it was different. It was as if she had unlocked something within him, something raw and vulnerable, and that frightened him. He knew, even if he truly desired her, there was no way he would be able to have her. There was no way he would ruin her just to slide inside her and claim her as his own.
Peter ran a hand through his hair, trying to clear his mind, but memories of her kept flooding back. He could still see the way her eyes had met his, wide with need. She had wanted him too, and that had only made it harder to walk away.
God,why did she have to be so beautiful?
Leaving the estate seemed like the only solution left. Perhaps it was for the best that the house party was over and the guests would all be leaving soon. The longer he stayed at Crawford Hall, the harder it would be to keep his distance from Lavinia. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could trust himself around her. What they had done had been scandalous enough. If they had been alone for just a moment longer, if he hadn’t stopped after he pleasured her…
He squeezed his eyes shut, as if trying to banish the thought.
His mind kept returning to Lavinia. To her smile. To the feel of her waist beneath his hands. To the way she had whispered and whimpered his name, her voice breathless and pleading.
He could not believe how much he wanted her. And it was not just the physical desire. It was the way he felt when they talked, the way her presence seemed to fill every room she entered.
Lavinia was more than just beautiful. She was intelligent and thoughtful. She challenged him in ways no one else ever had. And that, more than anything, drew him to her like a moth to a flame.
But what could he offer her?
His coffers were full. He could buy her anything she wanted. Silk gowns the color of emeralds like the one she’d worn tonight, pots of ink so she could continue writing long letters to her closest friends. He could even buy her a silver wreath, like her parents had done when they celebrated their own twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.
Peter nearly stumbled and fell on the pathway.
That is what Lavinia wants most. She wants to find love.
He ground his teeth and tilted his chin up so he could glare at the melancholy moon.
“Why?” he groaned. “Why must Lavinia want something I cannot give her?”
Just like every other affair, there would come a time when Lavinia would want more from him. She would beg him to love her, marry her, give her children. He could not pinpoint what specific requests she might make, but he knew what would inevitably happen. He would offer her a comfortable life, one they could share amiably, but she would want more. She would want everything he could offer, and then something else on top of that.
He cursed himself again, his frustration mounting. It would be easier to leave, to put distance between them before things spiraled any further. But the thought of walking away from her filled him with a sense of dread he could not explain. The idea of never seeing her again, of never feeling her touch, made his chest tighten.
He lowered his head and turned his back on the cursed moon, running a hand down his face. He needed to get a grip on himself. Soon, he and his family would leave the estate, and he would have time to think clearly. Time to decide what to do next.
But at that moment, the memory of Lavinia lingered, teasing him and taunting him with what could have been.
He glanced up at the door to the house, as if half-expecting her to reappear. But both the terrace and the balcony were empty. The house was silent.
Peter shook his head, chastising himself for even entertaining the thought of seeing her again tonight. He was losing his mind over her, and that was dangerous.
No, it was better this way. Better to leave and put some distance between them. He could not risk letting his desire for her spiral out of control again. Because if it did, he was not sure he’d be able to stop himself next time.
But even as he resolved to leave, part of him knew that it would not be that simple. He could not forget Lavinia. He could not stop thinking about her, no matter how hard he tried. And deep down, he was not sure he wanted to ignore all these new feelings.
While he grappled with what to do next, Peter allowed himself to have one moment of clarity. There was one thing he knew for certain: Lavinia had changed him. She had shaken him to his core, and no matter what he did, he would never be the same again.
CHAPTER 18
The morning sun filtered through the gauzy curtains, bathing her room in a soft golden glow. Lavinia lay still, her head resting on the pillow as she stared up at the ceiling, trying to quiet the thoughts racing through her mind. Her heart was a little lighter this morning, her chest fluttering with the unfamiliar but undeniable feeling of hope.
The guests had started to leave Crawford Hall, now that the house party had come to an end. The revelry, the music, and the laughter that had filled the halls were now only memories echoing faintly in the corners of her mind. But one memory stood out from the rest, consuming her every thought, even as the morning light signaled the start of a new day.
Peter.
The thought of him sent warmth through her, one that both thrilled and frightened her.
For the time she had known Peter Linfield, he had always been a man of complexities—both infuriating and alluring. He was a rake, a notorious one, with a reputation that should have kept her far, far away. But the longer they had spent time together, the more he had shown her a side of himself that left her breathless.
Last night had been a turning point. They crossed some lines, and she had allowed some things to happen that should not have happened in the first place.
