Page 91 of Aurelia

But she was also asleep, so instead of slaking his lust on her unconscious body, he lifted her in his arms and went to sit on the settee closest to the fire. She melted against his chest, limp and entirely relaxed for the first time since Roland had met her.

He took advantage of her momentary lapse of vigilance to study her. It was true that she was surpassingly lovely, but that was not all or even most of why Roland could not get her out of his head. Regardless of how brilliant she was as an artist or how gorgeous she was as a woman, there was something about her—something achingly vulnerable—that cried out for love, or at least for affection. Roland suspected that her role as the oldest sister had always been to nurture the younger ones because her parents had not wanted the job.

But nobody had ever nurtured her.

And it just about broke Roland’s heart.

It had stunned him to realize—less than a week into this last trip away from Crewe—that he wanted to be the one to give her what she needed.

True, he also wanted her body, and the thought of being her first—her only—lover made his already hard cock throb even more. He had never been interested in virgins in the past. From his first bed partner, Nora, to the last woman he’d been with—Mary Neel several weeks before he’d left Crewe—he’d always had experienced lovers.

After his unpleasant experience with Nora when he’d been sixteen all he’d looked for in the arms of every woman was physical satisfaction. He hadn’t wanted to explore rock pools with them, discuss books with them, play cards with them—all things he desperately wanted to do with Aurelia.

For the first time since he’d been a green, romantic boy he wanted to give more than he took.

Roland had been stunned tonight to discover that Aurelia wanted him. Stunned and honored. He suspected she was not the sort of woman who opened her heart to many people—especially not men.

Unfortunately, Roland also suspected that she would regret her moment of impulsivity when she came back to herself. He desperately hoped he was wrong and would do everything to make her glad of her choice.

Ironically, it had been Aurelia he’d been thinking about when the woman herself had opened the door to the library at two o’clock in the morning. He’d been so lost in his thoughts that for a moment he had thought that he had imagined her.

Roland had been pondering the same thing he always did where Aurelia was concerned: should he take what he wanted, even though he was a scarred, jaded, and bitter man almost twice her age? It had been so many years since he’d put anyone else’s needs above his own that he wasn’t sure he knew how to do so anymore.

If he truly valued her, wouldn’t he step away and let her find somebody more suitable? But then, was it Roland’s place to decide who was right for her? After all, what she’d said earlier—that she was an adult—was true. If Roland made choices for both of them, wasn’t he treating her as a child?

Sometimes it was hard to see the line between chivalry and paternalism.

Or at least it was difficult for him.

Aurelia shifted in his arms, her eyelids lifting slowly.

Roland smiled. “Welcome back.”

Her lips curved and the affection in her unguarded eyes knocked the air from his lungs.

But a scant second later the shutters slammed shut and she shifted, trying to sit up.

Which is when she noticed her nudity.

Roland was loathe to release her, but he lifted her from his lap and set her on the settee beside him. “I will fetch your night rail and dressing gown,” he told her.

He stood and located both garments, shaking them out before bringing them to her.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, snatching the clothes from his hand without meeting his gaze.

Roland gave a soundless sigh at her obvious shame and resumed his seat beside her. He draped his arm along the back of the sofa and watched with interest while she went about the business of collecting herself.

In less than a minute the wild, abandoned nymph had disappeared and in her place was a self-possessed, if not exactly tidy, ice queen.

“I hope you do not regret what we have done,” he said, even though it was plain that she did.

“No, of course not,” she said briskly, glancing around the room.

“Do you need something?”

“My sleeping cap?”

“I threw it into the fire.”