He slipped inside, finding that most sensitive point where all her long pent-up need seemed to have been waiting for his touch. Only his. Mercy, she’d been waiting so long for him. And he was deliciously talented. There was no fumbling, no rushing.
The moment her body began to climb to the peak, he kissed her. Tasting her, stroking his tongue against hers the way he stroked his fingers masterfully.
She forgot everything but him. All her fears and regrets were nothing to how he made her feel—desirable, bold, safe in his arms.
Then, at the pinnacle, she quivered against him, coming back down to the here and now as he held her upright, placing soft, warm kisses along her neck, her cheek.
“Thank you, Tess,” he murmured against her skin, then helped her to right her skirt, even assisted her to reaffix a couple of pins in her hair.
She looked up at him questioningly. He’d focused on her pleasure entirely and taken none for himself, and yet he looked at her as if awestruck. As if something about the moments they’d shared had shaken him.
Indeed, he was breathing hard.
Tess leaned in and kissed him, and he reacted instantly, pulling her close.
This moment with Dominic had been just what she’d been waiting for, though before he’d walked into her life, she’d have denied she was waiting for anything.
Somehow, despite his reputation and all the charm she’d seen him wield so adeptly, she’d seen more in him. Glimpses of his true nature that made her feel as if he was a man she could trust, if not with her heart, then with her passion.
Now, she only had to hope her judgement, this time, did not fail her.
Chapter Fourteen
When Tess went to visit Lord Fenbridge the next day, she took her tiny yet auspicious find with her. She didn’t know if Dominic would like her toting it across the Wiggenstow countryside, but if anyone deserved to see what she’d found, it was Reginald Fenbridge.
As demanded by the curmudgeon himself, she arrived early.
What she found most amusing was that he did not seem to like rising early. Often when she stepped into his study, he was still in his dressing gown or his hair was awry as if he’d only just tumbled from bed.
But he did seem to enjoy the morning breeze and looking out on the clumps of daffodils beginning to show themselves in his garden.
Today, he was fully clothed, his hair looked as if his valet had been at it, and he had silver tea and coffee urns set up on a sideboard in his study.
“Avail yourself, Miss Hawthorne. There are crumpets and scones too, if they strike your fancy.”
This wasn’t the first time he’d pleasantly stunned her by having a sideboard of breakfast treats at the ready, but it had been a rarity. She suspected his lordship struggled with dark moods. Her father had been much the same, especially after her mother’s death.
“Thank you, my lord.” Tess selected a strawberry scone and poured herself a cup of tea, then added a dash of cream.
Fenbridge lifted his own cup as he sat behind his mammoth desk and observed her.
“What’s happened, Miss Hawthorne?”
Tess swallowed a sip of tea and smiled, which only caused Fenbridge’s bushy brows to wing up on his forehead. “We’ve found something.”
Silver brows dropping, he crossed his arms. “Have you indeed?”
Tess had expected a bit more. She’d never seen the nobleman anything near gleeful, but she’d imagined the discovery would intrigue him. Perhaps even please him.
Yet as he sat watching her, he looked anything but pleased.
“Aren’t you curious, my lord? Isn’t that why I’m to report to you each morning?”
“Get on with it, Miss Hawthorne. Tell me what you’ve found.”
Tess had secured the artifact in a box lined with a bit of cloth, and she extracted it carefully from the pocket of her skirt. It felt like such a precious treasure that she couldn’t bear to break it further.
She gently eased the lid off the tiny box and set it atop Fenbridge’s desk.
