Dizzy, I held on to him as he kissed my neck, the hollow of my throat, every curve.
My pulse, each vein vibrated like zips of lightning.
“I love you,” he said, “Peregrine Daniel Thackery loves you.” Breathing hard, with his hands to my cheeks, he took my mouth. That was the beginning and closing argument from the best litigator I knew.
It was enough.
The tingle of his beard on my ear had me begging.Take me, take me up in your arms again.
I kicked my stays away and stood before him, bared of everything. I reached for my husband, my friend.
No letting go, not this time.
Tissue and waistcoats flew as we sank to the floor. The scents of boot polish and soft bay was heady and comforting.
Kisses. Hungry Kisses.
With his smooth lips on mine, that feeling of survival and satisfaction merged.
He rushed me to the tempest, that point where the clouds burst into a war of colors, where the sea surges overhead andyoudie, drowning in the deep, the deepest surrender.
Together, Daniel and I, we died to love.
And was I happy being his, for he was mine. I merely had to ignore how my heart longed for my husband and the truth.
CHAPTER 45
JEMINA—WHICHHEARTBREAKS
Patience paced in her parlor, and I waited for her judgment.
“Am I insane?” I asked again. “Or am I right: Hope is my daughter? Which do I tell Ashbrook?”
Her mouth opened, then snapped shut. Her rich complexion looked ashy, and Patience was never that unless there was a shortage of lotion.
“This is too much, Jemina.”
“What’s too much? Marrying a Cecil and a Peregrine? Yes, that does seem unfair.” I pulled my cape about me and slumped on the sofa, swarmed in pillows. “Do I tell Ashbrook about Hope?”
“Are you going to explain why you left Finchely, climbing out a window in your husband’s pantaloons? Can’t the man keep them? Someone’s always stealing them.”
“I had to get to you, Patience. I needed you to tell me what to do.”
She sat next to me and picked up a bone-white teacup. With a lump of Demerara sugar, she stirred and sipped.
This was her ritual, and the silence left me numb. Patience must think I was crazed.
“My stomach is a little upset, that is all,” she said, and set the cup down next to the platter of untouched coconut bread. “You left Ashbrook sleeping and scaled a two-story height? You hate heights. Why didn’t you walk out the front door?”
“Must you be logical?” Tying my bronze sash tighter about my borrowed clothes, I shrugged. “I was rash and—”
“Impatient.”
“Yes. You’ve grown on me, but I trust you.”
“And I you. I’d trust my Lionel with you. If anything ever happened to me, you must promise to see to him.”
My dearest friend was troubled. Her voice held a little tremble. That wasn’t Patience.
