“You should…”
She kissed him. She ran her hand down his back and nudged him closer and opened her mouth to let him in. He let out a huff of surprise, but he kissed back, moving his lips againsthers and then tentatively licking into her mouth. He put a hand at the base of her neck to hold her there, and he kept kissing her. Louisa’s skin began to tingle and something warm spread across her chest. She wanted more, was suddenly insatiable, and she put her arms around him and pushed him back onto the sofa.
He laughed when he hit his head on the arm of the sofa, but he kept kissing her, putting his arms fully around her and holding her close. Louisa lay on top of him, and she couldn’t remember her body ever feeling this alive.Thiswas what people made such foolish decisions about.Thiswas what she wanted. Not Daniel’s cold fish kisses.
She ran a hand down Fletcher’s chest, surprised by how hard and muscular he seemed. His big hands pressed into her back and pulled her to him. They writhed together for a moment, and then she gasped because she thought she could feel—
“Oh,” Fletcher said.
“Oh?”
“I just realized, you are fully dressed, and I am in nought but my nightshirt.”
He gently eased her away. His dressing gown had come untied to reveal a soft blue nightshirt that looked like it had been washed many times. He hastily pulled the dressing gown closed, concealing what was happening below his waist, if anything.
“You want to stop?” Louisa asked.
“No, but I am barely dressed, and you are engaged to another man, and so we must.”
Louisa touched her lips, which still tingled from his kisses. They may not have done much more than kiss, but Louisa felt like she had a notion for the kind of pleasure she would findon her wedding night, assuming she married Fletcher and not Daniel.
“I don’t want to stop, either.”
Fletcher stood, adjusted his dressing gown so that it covered his body again, and then held out a hand to Louisa. “If all goes to plan, we’ll have years and years to explore each other. But for now, you should go home.”
“I don’t want to.”
“I know. But you must. The rest will come in good time.” He leaned over and kissed her lips briefly again. “I love you. I can’t keep myself from saying it. But we’ve got a week and a half to get a wedding called off, so we best get to work.”
“I love you, too. Thank you for…everything.”
“I can’t believe you snuck out of your house.”
She shrugged and adjusted her cloak.
“I’m going to make one of my footmen escort you home so that I know you made it back okay.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do. And I’m guessing that marriage to you means I shall never have a dull moment again. Sneaking out of your house like we’re children again.” He shook his head.
“As I recall, you snuck out of your house a time or two.Someonecertainly left sweets on my bedroom windowsill on my birthday every year.”
Fletcher grinned. “I’d do it again if I thought I wouldn’t get caught. I bet I could find increasingly clever places to hide sweets on your birthday from here on.”
She grinned back at him. “I’m sure you will. After all, who wants a dull life?”
“Not me. Not at all.”
Chapter Sixteen
Before Anthony’s marriage, it had been common for Lark and Anthony to drop by each other’s homes. At the time, Anthony had owned several London residences and had set the most discreet aside for his romantic trysts, although he and Lark saw so much of each other, Anthony mostly lived there. It felt instinctual to pop over to Anthony’s house on a whim, but times had changed. Anthony’s more formal home—he’d sold the rest of his London properties recently; he’d told Lark he’d put the money into a fund for Henry—was widely known to be his home. So Lark had to be more careful about his impromptu visits, and he had yet to spend a night here. Anthony refused to be parted from his son overnight, so they hadn’t had time or opportunity for trysts. A few stolen kisses made up their romantic relationship right now.
Lark didn’t know how to behave anymore. He thought to throw caution to the wind, but he didn’t know how well he trusted Anthony’s servants.
He left his home during regular calling hours. He stopped to buy a newspaper and a scandal sheet and scanned both as he walked. He cared little for the actual news—Sir Walter Scott had written a new novel and also found some ancient artifacts in Edinburgh Castle that were on display now; some old theater had been renovated and was reopening in South London; another of the king’s sons had succumbed to matrimony; it was all enough to put a man to sleep—but there were a few good items in the scandal sheets. A certain Lord D— had been caught canoodling with Lady C— at the opera, while Lady C—’s husband was on the Continent for some kind of business opportunity. Lord D— could have been anyone; Devonshire, Donegall, Derby,Lark wasn’t sure. Next, Lord S— was having an affair with an actress, but that was referring to Swansea and Lark already knew about it. Then there was a Miss R— who had jilted Lord M— at the altar, which Lark was surprised he hadn’t heard about yet. It must have been a wedding with a limited guest list. Probably just as well. Lord M— could have been Marlborough, whom Lark had seen around town chasing skirts all Season. Rumor had it he planned to marry soon.
Lark loved this kind of nonsense. It was a nice distraction from how fraught everything in his life felt lately.
