He caught his breath on a moan when her lips found his. Her kiss was hesitant, shy, as if she’d never kissed a man before and wasn’t quite sure how to do it, but the soft, damp drag of her full mouth against his made his lower belly clench with want, and nothing mattered then but gettingcloser to her.
“Your mouth is so sweet, Cecilia.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her against him so he could take her mouth more deeply. Her shawl fell to the ground, leaving her in just her night rail, and he gathered her closer, a broken groan tearingfrom his lips.
God, it was maddening, the way her rounded hips fit into his hands and the line of her delicate thighs pressed against his. Did she know what it meant, that he was this hard for her? “Cecilia. Wait, sweetheart.”
But Cecilia didn’t wait. She pressed a kiss behind his ear, then trailed her lips lower, her teeth grazing his neck before she pressed an oddly chaste kiss to the vulnerable notchof his throat.
Gideon sank his hands into her hair, stilling her as he opened his mouth over hers, his kiss deep and wild and fierce. She gasped when he sucked her plump lower lip into his mouth, and her fingernails dragged over his sensitive flesh as her hands curled against his chest.
“Shhh. Let me…” He dragged his tongue over that pouting mouth once more before he slipped it between her lips. Cecilia gasped, straining to get closer as he devoured her, his hands slipping from her waist down to the firm curveof her bottom.
He didn’t realize he’d lifted her against him, his erection cradled snugly against her soft belly until he heard her gasp. He lifted his mouth, dazed, and realized his hips were moving sinuously against hers.
“Cecilia, wait.” A despairing groan tore from Gideon’s lips at the loss of her, but he took her gently by the shoulders and set her away from him. “We can’t…I shouldn’t be…you need to go back to your own bedchamber.”
She gazed up at him with dark, searching eyes before shifting her hand over his heart. “Aren’t you tired of being cold, Gideon? Here.” She patted his chest. “Aren’t you tired of being cold here?”
He stared down at her, his heart beating a wild rhythmunder her palm.
How did she know?
He’d been cold for so long, so long, and he was tired. God, he was so tired.
No one had touched him since Cassandra’s death—not his body, and not his heart. All that time his heart had been like those icy white roses, frozen inside his chest. Months and months had passed, and all that time, he’d neveronce been warm.
He didn’t need to say so. Cecilia saw the answer in his face.
“Come with me.” She took his hand, drew him toward the bed, and eased back the coverlet. “Get into bed, Gideon.”
He wanted to. God, he wanted to, but he wouldn’t take advantage of the only woman who’d shown him any kindness since the Murderous Marquess was born.
“Just to sleep.” She nodded at the bed. “I don’t want you to becold tonight.”
Gideon gazed into those sweet, dark eyes and God help him, he couldn’t say no. He wanted it too much. Wanted her next to him, her warm body curved against his.
So, he did as she bade him. He climbed into the bed and held his arms out to her. The coverlet rustled, the bed beneath him dipped under her slight weight, and then she was there, curled against him, her head restingon his chest.
“Go tosleep, Gideon.”
Gideon closed his eyes, and for the first time since he’d lost his wife and son he slept throughout the night, dreamless and warm.
Chapter Eighteen
Cecilia dreamed of anguished blue eyes and frozen white roses. The dream was disturbing in a way she didn’t understand, in a way a dream never had been before, and she woke with a start, her night rail damp and a gasp on her lips.
She lay still for long, uneasy moments, struggling to remember where she was, but then Gideon shifted beside her, and she knew. She hadn’t intended to join him in his bed, much less fall asleep beside him. She’d only meant to wait with him until the dreadful cold that had seeped into his body and soul passed, then return to Isabella.
But he’d wrapped his arm around her waist and gathered her against his hard, warm chest. He’d fallen asleep at once, his deep, even breaths brushing against the back of her neck, and she couldn’t bear to wake him, this man who’d lost so much, suffered so deeply.
She slid out from under Gideon’s arm as quietly as she could, but before she could slip back into her own bedchamber, she found herself pausing, something she couldn’t name luring her back, her footsteps silent against the floorboards. It drew her closer, the hem of the blue silk bed hangings brushing over the tops of her bare feet. In a daze, she reached out and rested her fingers on the heavy gilt frame of the portrait.
She hadn’t come here forher. When she’d entered his bedchamber, she’d thought only of Gideon. It wasn’t until she saw the portrait that she realized of course…of course,she’d be here. It was, of every other place in Darlington Castle, the only place she belonged.
Lady Cassandra, the seventh Marchionessof Darlington.
Cecilia edged closer, staring up at Lady Cassandra’s face. Had she seen it before? There was something familiar about her features, as if Cecilia were looking into the face of a friend,not a stranger.
Cassandra was fair-skinned and blue-eyed, with high cheekbones, a slender nose, and a determined jaw that was just a touch too square to be considered strictly pretty. She hadn’t been a beauty like Lady Leanora, who was without dispute a dazzling, glittering diamond of the first water, with a face so perfect it almost hurtto look at her.
