He laughed at that, but grew instantly serious once more. “Are you certain? Because if you are, then we can be married in just a few days.”
“In that case, I have never been more certain of anything else in my life.”
Drawing her to a halt, he looked down into her eyes. “Truly?” Her nod made him smile. “I cannot believe how fortunate I am.”
Alerted by the chatter of other guests approaching, they continued their progress, passing through the French doors and heading down the hallway that would lead them to the grand staircase. A moment passed until she quietly admitted, “I miss our kisses too.” Gathering her courage, she then said, “Perhaps another rendezvous in the Roman villa would not be so bad.”
His hold on her tightened ever so slightly as they climbed the stairs, sending a thrill straight through her. There was something wonderfully possessive about it that spoke to her feminine side. “Meet me in the stairwell next to the interior courtyard two hours from now.”
Reaching the top of the landing, they parted ways, her footsteps falling softly against the floor while his louder tread faded into silence. Her nerves were a complicated tangle of foreign sensations. She loved this man, desperately so, and because of that she feared for her ability to resist the temptation he offered. And yet... they were to be married after all. Perhaps a few more stolen kisses would not be the worst thing in the world.
Chapter17
The next two hours were, in Richard’s estimation, the most torturous he’d ever endured. They were worse than the ones he’d spent chained to a table while glowing red iron was being pressed against his cheek. Worse still than the days it had taken for him to make his way from Brussels to Antwerp with a broken leg.
Pushing the unpleasant memory aside, he thought of Mary instead, of how bad she’d felt about deceiving her aunt and of how worried she’d been about thetondiscovering her secret. Crossing to the window, he eased the curtain aside and peered out at the moonlit garden. Her transgressions were nothing compared to his—a mere masquerade performed with the best of intentions while he... all he’d wanted was another man’s downfall. He had that now, and just as he’d feared, it wasn’t enough to cleanse his soul of darkness. Mary, on the other hand... her smile alone could make him forget all else.
It was almost two o’clock in the morning by the time he made his way back downstairs, his heart lurching slightly with expectation. Before, when they’d been alone together, there had been rules to follow. This was still very much the case of course, though not so much to the same degree. He wondered if she realized that. Of course she did, which was why she’d been so concerned about being alone together. She was worried that he’d be tempted to do things... things that the gentleman in him would not have permitted before.
Naturally, he’d balked at the insinuation, even though she’d been right to be worried. The truth was, he was finding it bloody difficult, thinking of little else than what she might look like with decidedly fewer clothes on.
Stepping into the stairwell, Richard was greeted by the faint glow from a lantern. “I was hoping to arrive before you,” he said as he closed the door softly behind him.
Illuminated in a golden haze, Mary’s face reminded him of an angel in a Raphael painting. The corners of her mouth lifted, dimpling her cheeks. “My impatience got the better of me. I could not wait.” Swinging her lantern around, she allowed the light to fall upon the stairs. “Shall we?”
“Allow me,” he said. His fingers traced the outline of her hand as he took the lantern away from her, his heartbeat quickening in response to her sharp intake of breath.
With measured steps, he moved past her and began his descent, aware of her presence behind him—of her warmth and of her scent. His chest tightened, as did his grip on the lantern. Guiding them back through the chilly passageways beneath Thorncliff, to the next set of stairs, they descended toward the hidden villa below while darkness closed in around them.
“It seems so different from how I remember it,” Mary said as she stepped down beside him. “The lack of light makes it almost gloomy.”
Agreeing with her, Richard went to retrieve the nearest torch, holding it to the lantern until it was fully lit. He did the same with three more, brightening the hall in which they were standing before heading toward the room in which they’d enjoyed their picnic. Pausing in the doorway, he glanced toward the floor where he’d spread out the blanket and laid out the food. It seemed unbelievable to him that it was only a week ago since that had taken place.
“Perhaps we should continue to explore Lord Duncaster’s study instead?” Mary asked. “I don’t believe that we are likely to discover anything else in there.”
“And I do not believe that we are likely to discover anything else at all.”
The silence that followed was palpable. And then, “Maybe if we were to look—”
He spun toward her, his eyes meeting hers. “We have looked in every drawer already, leafed through every book, and we have discovered some vital information regarding not only Lord Duncaster, but my grandfather as well. You know that we were planning to share this with Lady Duncaster, but before we had a chance to do so, your aunt received that damning letter from Rotridge and then...” Expelling a breath, he stared back at her, acutely aware of the energy simmering between them. “We are not here because of the notebook, Mary.”
A second passed, and then she nodded. “I know.”
Holding her gaze, Richard reached for her hand and silently led her into the room beyond and over to the sofa. He placed the lantern on a table and then offered her his full attention. “Do you have any idea of how beautiful you are?”
His hand captured her cheek, caressing the skin there until she leaned against him, her eyelids closing on a sigh of pleasure. “I have missed this,” she said, not answering his question. “I have missed you.”
“So have I.” Dipping his head, he pressed his lips to hers, desperate for the contact, the nearness, the all-consuming need to be with her. The softest murmur escaped her, followed by a shared breath as their mouths melded together, her arms reaching around his neck and holding him close. Richard’s chest expanded. He could feel the rhythm of her heartbeat leaping rapidly against his own, the soft contour of her breast as he trailed his hand along the length of her side.
Perfection. No other word would ever suffice.
Breaking contact, he reached for her hand and pressed her knuckles to his lips. He wanted so much.Toomuch. Wincing, he took a step back, releasing her hand and adding distance.
“What is it?” she asked, her eyes wide with innocent wonder.
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Would it offend you to know that I do not believe you?” Crossing her arms, she gave him the most defiant stare that he’d ever seen.
