Ruth had chased after him. She was at the top step and then bounced down another two to join him. “Don’t go.”
Outside. She’d come outside for him. The lady wrapped her arms about his sore neck. “I accept you, too. Just as you are.”
Then she grabbed him by the collar and pressed her mouth to his.
Her hands were tight, pulling at his shirt, her fingers a mere inch above the scars burned into his throat.
Wild—with her hands tugging on his collar, his coat—her kisses deepened.
How is this a platonic friendship?
He should push away. He should think of what she wanted, what she’d said she needed. “Ruth, wait—”
She purred. Her nails sank into his shoulders.
Control. None. The puffer was stuck in the puddin’. Ruth, as the old saying went,made the love thick. It was rather easy for him to get stuck in it. Four years, and he burned the same.
And he needed her, more than ever.
Wycliff dropped his hat and took her into his arms. So warm, so passionate, so Ruth, his Ruth. She was the only person to have him on edge, make him think he’d lost all, then spin him like a drunken top. “Oh, woman.”
This seaman drowned, drowned in her fire, tasting and teasing, until he could stand no more.
“Break with the barrister. I beg of you, Ruth. Don’t torture my soul wondering if I have a chance.”
“I can’t go on with Mr. Marks and feel like this. But I’m not ready to be won. There’s so much to discuss.”
If her affection remained white hot, there wouldn’t be much discussion. “So, you’ll break with Marks?”
“Yes. You do have nice lips, better than his.”
Wasn’t quite what he wanted to hear, but he’d take anything that meant she wouldn’t consider another man. “Well, there is that.”
Caressing her back, he held her, hoping his heart would slow, but when did fire make anything slow? “Tomorrow, Ruth. A walk. Be ready for me.”
“Yes.”
He waited until she’d slipped back into the house.
But he stood there, hoping she’d come back or even look for him out the parlor window.
A quick gaze to the upper level and he saw Ruth waving at him.
Four years, so many days and hours apart, and he was still as much in love with her as ever.
Small steps, Wycliff.Ruth wasn’t where he was…yet.
After picking up his things, he fanned his face and climbed into his carriage.
Time to finish his enemies and make Ruth love him so much that silly things like a name wouldn’t matter and a big thing like trusting him completely wouldn’t be so hard.
Chapter Twenty-One
Dinner with a Baron
My new spectacles made things very clear. Sitting in Wycliff’s carriage with our fingers entwined, I couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was.
I’d never thought I’d like a beard. It tickled my cheek when he pulled me close. I was glad of it. It made me laugh. I needed to laugh, because Wycliff looked too much like Adam, an older, wiser one.
