There was more here. She could feel it. “Is it me?”
“You? No, oh God no.” He reached for her hands, raised them to his lips. “This isn’t about you.”
Then she understood. “You know more about the embezzlers than you wish to let on. Have they threatened you?” She didn’t know what she’d do if he was in danger. She didn’t want him to end up like Sir Duncan or Mr. Ferrell.
“Why do you suspect I know more?”
She’d perceived it, almost as if she could read his mind. What had Tweedie said? One day she’d been alone, and now there washim.
Her answer was to kiss him, her hand hooking around his neck and bringing him down to her. She savored the taste of him, and yet she also experienced sadness. At some point, truly without conscious consideration, she’d decided she must confess her feelings. She was too honest not to. She prayed the intensity of her emotions didn’t upset him.
“Dara?”
She pressed her fingers against his lips. “I’m in love with you.” There, she’d said it. “And don’t feel you must return the feelings. I understand we are not a love match, and I do find you sometimes infuriating. You are also always interesting, undeniably handsome, and you are mine. For always. Whether you wish to be or not—” Shewas saying inane things and she couldn’t stop until his lips on hers shut her up.
He enveloped her in his arms, easily pulling her up to him, and the kiss didn’t stop until they were ready.
Then he looked down at her. “I’m glad I’m yours.” Then he added, “I find you sometimes infuriating, always interesting, and undeniably beautiful—”
His use of her own words startled a laugh out of her. His claim that she was beautiful made her doubt him. “Michael—”
“Hush. Don’t deny it, Dara. You will always be the most beautiful woman in the room to me. Perfectly beautiful in every way,” he insisted, leaning to kiss her again. And then, right as his lips met hers, he whispered, “I’m madly in love with you. Out of all that has gone on, what we have is right.”
He loves me.
Her—Dara, the middle sister, the one most overlooked.“Madly in love”—that’s what he’d said. This remarkable manlovedher.
His words sang through her. She reached for him. This time, their kiss was a pledge, a troth. He rose from the chair, lifting her with him. He carried her to the bed.
They undressed each other. They couldn’t help themselves. He kissed her neck as he undid her laces. She lifted his shirt, breathing on hisskin right where his chest met his collarbone. He found her breast, covered it with his hand, the palm against a tight nipple.
She pressed herself against the length of his manhood. “Please,” she whispered. A need was building inside her, a need only he could release—
And then he stopped as if coming to his senses. “Dara, it is too soon.”
Her answer was to stroke the long, thick shaft. He groaned. “Keep doing that.”
Except she wanted more. She pushed him down on the bed and stretched out beside him. “It is frightening how quickly you have caught on to the way of things,” he whispered. “Except, we shouldn’t.”
“Say it again. Say you love me.”
“Oh, Dara, I adore you.” She lightly circled the tip of his erection with one finger. “I can’t imagine my life without you.” She kissed his neck. “Dear God, I love you.” Her hand tightened around his shaft and she fell back on the mattress, gently bringing him to her.
He rose up over her. “It might hurt.”
“Nothing could hurt more than not having you inside me again,” she answered, “because I love you.”
He rested his full weight upon her. His hardness was exactly where she wanted it. She opened to him, receptive. Their lips met, and he slid intoher like a key into a well-oiled lock. They fit together that well.
Furthermore, he’d been wrong. There was no pain or at least nothing that bothered her. And this time was better than the last—because he loved her.
***
Unfortunately, the world wouldn’t let them stay in bed. They had promised to call on Mrs. Ferrell. Dara quickly tacked up the hem and donned the mourning gown.
There were still mourners present when they arrived. Dara wrapped the black veil around her as a shawl and scarf. As she and Michael stepped into the house, she was struck by how empty the front room seemed with Mr. Ferrell’s body gone. His presence no longer dominated the house, and it felt empty.
Mrs. Ferrell came up to them. Her face showed the stress of the last few days. “I’m glad you came. Please, come with me.” She informed one of the other women that she needed a moment alone with these visitors.
