“Tsk,” Cecilia said. Pulling her hand free, she strode across the room and arranged the mourning drapery so Cilla was veiled. As she looked back at Ned, she winked.
A laugh broke from him then, a sudden lighthearted delight he had not felt in years. The sexual heat scouring his body deepened into a richer, more sincere warmth.Oh damn, he thought.I love this woman.He went to her, laid his hands on her shoulders, gazed into her wintry eyes.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking I’m a scoundrel,” she said, cool-voiced despite her inflamed face, “so I’m going to take what I want. If—that is, if you’ll give it to me.”
“Gladly, sweetheart.” In fact, he was struggling not to throw her on the bed and give it to her without further delay, as he had been for quite some time now. But he lowered his hands, allowing her space. “Are you sure, though? Because it will ruin you forever.”
“Only if people find out.” She smiled with such intensity, Ned forgot nice allowances. Grasping her hand, he turned it, kissed her soft, fine-veined wrist, stroking tiny circles against the skin with his tongue. She shivered.
“I meant,” he said, looking up through his eyelashes at her, “you’ll be ruined for any other experience.”
She laughed.
The sound of it sent a rush of fire through him. Putting his handbehind her head, he pulled her toward him and kissed her with all the passion and desire he’d felt for her since she answered the door to him in London. She seemed to melt in his embrace, her protective rigor finally giving way, her heart and body surrendering. But as she swayed, clutching at his coat to stay upright, Ned felt the weight of her inexperience and his own wish to protect her from harm. He needed to calm himself the hell down. Easing back, he smiled, brushing the hair away from her beloved face.
“I’ll try to be careful,” he promised.
“Oh God,” she said huskily, “that’s the last thing I want you to be.”
He swung her up into his arms, carried her to the bed, tripped on a cudgel lying on the floor, and dropped her onto the mattress. So much for being careful. Thankfully she was wearing an old-fashioned dress with no bustle, so she did not bounce back.
“I did warn you about the mess,” she said, smiling up at him from a tumult of white muslin and long rosy hair, and he almost expired on the spot from adoration. He crawled onto the bed, boots and coat and all, and she swallowed nervously, her smile shivering away.
There was no time to undress her, to explore each revelation of bare, creamy skin with his hands and mouth; if they did not return soon, a search party would be sent for them, and then she really would be ruined. But Ned thought he’d not have undressed her anyway, not this first time, when it took all her courage to lie fully clothed beneath him, her breath shaky and her eyes like a storm. He loosened the buttons of her bodice, kissed her throat and décolletage, and she stirred with a wildness that spoke truly of her innocence.
Reality struck him then like a physical blow. “Damn,” he cursed, falling back against the ridiculous pillows. “I don’t have any protection.”
“That’s all right,” Cecilia said kindly. “You can borrow the gun in my side-table drawer if you want.”
He laughed. Turning onto his elbow, he looked down at her with such fondness, her eyes filled with tears. Frowning, she blinked them away. He kissed her frown, the corner of each eye, her mouth. “I meant protection against pregnancy.”
She gasped. “Language, sir! But you need not worry. Pleasance has certain herbs I can steal.”
“In that case—” He turned away again, causing her to make noises of confusion; he removed his boots, coat, knives, and gun, then returned to her side with a smile he’d perfected over the years, a smile to make her squirm even before he set one finger on her. She responded just as he’d hoped, her body restless, her tongue slipping across her lips to wet them. It was such an erotic sight, Ned could only be grateful he’d left his trousers on or else they’d be finished a whole lot quicker than necessary. Gathering her skirts up to her knees, removing her shoes and drawers, he slipped his hand along the length of one thigh, swallowing dryly as his touch moved from silk stocking to soft skin. This was secret, sacred territory. He’d been here with other women, but none so precious to him as the one who lay with him now. Inexplicably, he began to feel frightened.
“Hurry,” she whispered.
“Sweetheart,” he said, “let me take you out of time for a while.”
And he kissed her until even he forgot there was a world beyond this room.
Cecilia stared at the ceiling in bemusement. She knew nothing of how this procedure should go, apart from having overheard Mrs. Rotunder say it was a convenient time to work out her weekly budget. She did not expect Captain Lightbourne would be touching her thigh in that highly discombobulating manner, or—
Oh! That wasn’t her thigh he just—
Oh!
She might have leaped from the bed were he not leaning over her, supporting himself with one arm while the other was occupied beneath her dress. His fingers were being decidedly rude, but before she could reason that this was acceptable under the circumstances, her body reached its own opinion. It rose toward him with wicked piratic abandon, legs spreading, hips moving in concert with his stroking fingers. The sensation was—
Alas, every possible adjective disappeared from mind, taking the mind itself with them. She reached for Ned, brushing back his hair, cupping his face, finding anchorage in his calm, steady gaze.
Then he slipped a finger inside her body and she lost it again, her hands falling back helplessly to the bed.
“Yes?” he asked, making sure.
She wanted to answer yes, or at least tell him to not waste energy talking, but all she could do was moan. He apparently translated this correctly, for he moved down and his tongue made a reply of its own where his fingers had been.Disgraceful!her wits declared in titillated horror.Shut up, her body replied.
