“You have survived it?” he asked quietly.
She nodded, and opened her eyes. She looked right into his. A mistake, perhaps. In that instant she understood the real dangers of what she did. The wickedness might not haunt her life, but the intimacy would. Letting him strip her of reserve left her vulnerable and exposed in other ways. She knew the power of that now.
He moved, carefully. A renewed tension spread through him. She understood despite her ignorance. After a while she moved too, encouraging him to find his own pleasure without so much care. He responded with harder thrusts. Masculine need engulfed her. Even so, to the very end when she saw and felt his own shattering, she could tell that he held something back so he would not hurt her too much. She felt him withdraw an instant before the tension broke apart.
He came down on her then, covering her, his face pressed to hers and his hair feathering her face. She did not mind his weight. She held him to her body, taking in his warmth. Her fingertips skimmed his skin while she branded her mind with the sensation of touching his body. She savored the intimacy that she had discovered tonight—invasive, even frightening, but wonderful too.
***
Her fingers caressed his back. Tentative. Careful, as if she feared disturbing him. He let her, and enjoyed the soft touch, while their tight embrace caused the bliss to stretch longer than normal.
His mind slowly found itself, and saw the new colors in his contentment. Surprise, and relief. The latter that he had avoided brutalizing her. Surprise that he had come so close to doing so. Few women in the past had inspired that possessive hunger, and none of them had been the least bit like Eva Russell.
He rose up so his weight rested on his forearms, not her, and he did not continue crushing her. He looked down into eyes that glistened with—what? Tears?
Hell, he had hurt her more than he thought. She was a virgin, after all. A virgin. What had he been thinking? He should be horsewhipped.
The truth was, try as he might, he could not summon any shame or regret. The only concern was whether she would. She had said she would not, but what did she know?
He caressed her face and kissed her. Her expression lightened, then turned rueful. “Afterward, like now, what does one do?” she asked.
“Normally I like to run through the garden naked and play satyr chasing nymph.”
For an instant she believed him, then she laughed. “More naughty games, you mean.”
“Yes, but not in gardens. However, I do not think you would want more tonight, no matter how mildly wicked.” He rolled off her and onto his back. “Not only due to being ravished for the first time. You traveled all day. Sleep is in order.”
He reached for the sheet. In doing so he saw the one on which they lay. No blood from the looks of things, even though he had felt the hymen give way.
He pulled her into an embrace, covered them with the sheet, and got comfortable with her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest.
“This will be very boring if you normally play wicked games all night,” she said.
“Are you saying you are disappointed that I am not going to impose on you again?”
“No. You are quite right about that. I am somewhat tired and... sore. I think that you must find me very dull compared to the women you have known. That is all I meant.”
He looked down on her crown, tucked under his chin. Reassurances were in order, but the last ones he had expected her to need.What are you talking about? Hell, fucking you was incredible. No, that would never do. He formed a response carefully. It took some time to pick through the potential ramifications of each word.
“I am not your tenth lover, but your first, Eva. It is a privilege to be so honored, especially by a woman who could have a choice from among many men.”
No reaction from her. Nothing at all. He realized that she had stilled totally. She had fallen asleep. So much for his well-considered declaration.
He drifted too. When on the brink of sleep, he felt her move. He opened his eyes to find her looking up at him with a soulful expression that contemplated what she saw. Then she planted a kiss on his chest, and nestled closer for the night.
CHAPTER13
Gareth gazed down at Eva’s face and tangled hair. Her expression looked ethereal in the soft northern light. Dawn had broken two hours ago, and he had risen to wash and dress. Fresh water waited for her in the dressing room. He would not have minded staying abed with her until she emerged from her dreams, but he assumed she would be more comfortable being alone in the bright light of day.
He left the chamber and descended the stairs, listing the various matters he had intended to address today. One involved riding back toward Chatsworth, and calling on two local estates near enough to Devonshire’s properties to suggest someone at them might have awareness of the history of the paintings once stored there. At best now he could leave in two days. It might take that long to help Eva put her house back in order and swear information about the intrusion.
The letter to Ives would have to wait as well, but it needed to be sent soon. Ives’s own letter had come yesterday, and his queries indicated someone, or rather Someone, had pressed him in turn for information. Ives had never said the Prince Regent had requested this investigation, but Gareth assumed that was the Someone behind it all. Annoyingly absent from that letter had been any news regarding Lance, the investigation, and status of the inquiry into Percy’s death.
His concentration on duties not being accomplished kept thoughts of the night at bay until he entered the kitchen and found coffee already made. He strode to the garden door and looked out. Harold had come, on his own and without Erasmus, unbidden. He labored on the wall, hoisting stones into place, finishing the work that Gareth had started himself yesterday.
Gareth’s mind snapped to the woman sleeping above.
Damn.
