“No, don’t stop, please.”
Guy began to move, slowly, as her body accepted him.
Hetty released a breath and drew him close.
He withdrew and pushed in again, then settled into a rhythm. As her body rose to join his, she threw back her head with a mew of pleasure. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as if she could pull him closer. Her body closed around him like a hot velvet glove, the pleasure so intense, he fought to retain control.
*
Hetty lay sprawledbeside Guy, his hand resting on her breast, rising and falling with her rapid breaths.
“Je t’aime ma chéri,” he said huskily. “You are my life.”
“Oh, my darling. I love you.” She could barely speak, her body weighed down with a pleasurable fatigue. She settled beside him and closed her eyes.
She woke as the soft patina of moonlight slid across the room through the open curtains. It must have been close to midnight. While she’d slept, Guy had put a taper to the fire and pulled the covers over them. He stirred beside her, woke, and gathered her into his arms. She snuggled against the warm length of his body, settled her head on his shoulder, and slept again.
They woke to birdsong. Drowsy and exhausted, Hetty sat back against the pillows as they fortified themselves with the hot chocolate the maid had brought.
She put down the cup and pushed back the covers.
“Where are you going?” His eyes were heavy-lidded with sleep and awakening desire.
“I was just going to ring for the maid to draw my bath.”
“Not yet.” He drew her back into bed.
Hetty leaned into his hard body as the familiar sensations of warmth and need flooded through her. How she loved this man. Her need for him robbed her of breath as she pressed her mouth to his.
Hunger drove them downstairs at luncheon to find Genevieve and Eustace had tactfully gone to visit her father and Marina.
Ravenous, they devoured a late breakfast. Then, holding hands, they walked over the grounds enjoying order restored to the gardens, the hedges trimmed, the parterre garden free of weeds, the roses pruned, and the lawns scythed. Gardeners were raking up the first of the autumn leaves to fall and burning them, the smoke coiling into the sky. Rosecliff Hall had been restored. But to Hetty, it was more than a restoration. Rosecroft Hall had been lifted from the mortmain past, which had held it in thrall ever since Guy’s father had deserted it. “I can’t wait for you to see how glorious the estate is in the spring.”
“We may not be here in the spring,” Guy said.
She looked up at him. “Why? Where shall we be?”
“Genevieve wants us to visit her in Paris,” he said with a grin.
“Oh, Guy. I’d love to!”
He lifted a curl to press a kiss on her neck and warmth spiraled down her spine. “I knew you would. But Genevieve may have to wait. It may not be advisable for you to travel.”
She leaned into him and smiled. “Might I be with child?”
“Perhaps.” He leveled a glowing look at her.
“I expect the others will return soon.” She wanted to be alone with him and found a similar need in his eyes. He began to turn back to the house.
She tugged at his arm. “Let’s walk to the summerhouse by the lake.”
Guy’s brows rose. For a moment, she thought he might refuse, but then his eyes smoldered with desire and he grabbed her hand.
Epilogue
Rosecliff Hall, Spring 1817
Hetty wandered theglorious gardens, breathing in the floral scents carried on the breeze. Footfall behind her made her turn. Guy walked down the path. “Are you ready to leave,mon amour? The carriage is being brought around.”
