A pause then. She thought she would scream with impatience. Waiting carried its own erotic torture. Finally he stroked her twice, no more. He entered her in a slow thrust that filled her completely. A barely audible moan of pleasure accompanied the thrust.
Another pause, with him in her, filling her like never before. Caresses smoothed over her bottom. He adjusted the position of her legs, then gently pressed her back down so she hugged the grass. “You must let me know if I hurt you.”
She soon understood what he meant. This was different, feral, primitive. He thrust again and again, deeply and hard, until it seemed her womb itself came alive. She knew the pleasure differently too. More powerfully. More confidently.Yes,she thought each time he stroked into her.Yes, when the pleasure quickened around him, with a profound depth that tantalizedher to want more and more.Yes, right until the feverish violence of the end, when the release made waves of ecstasy glow through her entire body.
***
Eva tied on her bonnet. She pulled on her gloves. She lifted the leather-bound sketchbook and tucked it under her arm. Deciding she looked as presentable as she ever would, she left her house to pay her first social call in years.
She stopped in Langdon’s End to post her letters to Rebecca and Sarah. She should receive a response by tomorrow at the latest. She trusted Sarah would find a way to convince Wesley to allow her to accompany her cousins to London. It was not the sort of treat a wife like Sarah would take well to being denied.
Gareth had left her bed before dawn today. He would be on the road now, on his way north for that meeting he had. One day, probably. Two at most, he had said while he made a very sweet good-bye by driving her mad three times in quick succession, first with his hand, then his mouth, then his rod. She had barely found the strength to see him off. Nostalgia had tinged their actual parting. When he returned they would journey to London. This morning, in the dark before dawn, their affair had ended.
Inevitable, that. Even continuing this long had been risky. Sorrow touched her heart when she thought about it, relieved only by the knowledge that they would continue as friends. Special friends, who had shared an intimacy that few friends ever approach.
She smiled to herself now while she walked the lanes, greeting people who had known her all her life. Could they now see how she had changed? She felt so different that she wondered if she would recognize herself from even a month ago if she met herself in passing.
She presented herself at the home of the sisters Neville. Their servant took her card, one of the five she had left (have new cards made immediately so they will be ready for London, she noted on her mental list of things to do). The woman returned and escorted her back to the library.
Jasmine and Ophelia waited for her, sitting in the exact same spots as the last time she had come. Ophelia appeared delighted to see her. Jasmine eyed her with naked curiosity.
“I am impressed to see you out and about,” Jasmine said after very brief pleasantries had been dispensed with. “We heard about your ordeal. Most women would have taken to their beds for a week.”
Eva swallowed the temptation to make a joke about how much she had enjoyed her bed the last two nights. “It was a shock, of course, but I was not harmed, so all is well.”
“It is said Mr. Fitzallen sent for the magistrate.”
“He is my closest neighbor, and was kind enough to help me. He has proven to be a good friend.”
“How fortunate for you.” Jasmine’s tone implied raised eyebrows even if her face showed none.
“Indeed,” Ophelia agreed. “How fortunate, too, that Rebecca did not come back with you. I hate to think what coming upon such a scene would have done to her. The young are so easily impressed. She might have become fearful of every creak of a floorboard.”
“Rebecca is too brave to turn into a mouse suddenly,” Jasmine said. “Do not assume everyone has your character, sister. I keep telling you that, regarding the good as well as the failings.”
“I am very aware of it. You, for example, do not have much of my character at all, and we are sisters.”
“I certainly do not have your tendency toward feminine weaknesses, I am happy to say.”
“I do not think being a woman is a failing. If you do, that is one way in which our characters do not align.”
“I am hoping Rebecca will not be too alarmed when she hears what happened,” Eva said, reminding them of her presence. She enjoyed a good argument as much as anyone, but today’s visit had another purpose.
Tea, for example. The servant brought it and they all indulged. Eva considered whether she might use some of the money from Mr. Stevenson to purchase some of her own, if everything today went well.
“What have you there?” Jasmine’s eyes narrowed on the leather sketchbook that Eva had set by her feet.
Eva could not believe her luck that Jasmine had turned the topic to art. “It is my old sketchbook. I am going to stroll along the lake and choose a view for a painting, then do some first sketches.”
“Rebecca told us you dabbled. Are you any good?”
“I admit I have a middling talent, but I enjoy it.”
“I am sure you are very accomplished,” Ophelia said soothingly.
Jasmine held out her hand. “Here. Let us see.”
Letting Jasmine view the sketchbook had not been part of the plan. Not only did the sketches reveal her life from when she sketched frequently, they also documented how little she had done during the last two years.
