Page 53 of A Scandal at Stonecliffe

He rose up a little, bracing himself on one forearm, and with the other hand began to undo the buttons of her dress. The brush of his fingertips between her breasts as he worked his way down her bodice sent sensations so exquisite they were almost painful spiraling through her. Nathan tugged at the ribbons tying her chemise, in his haste pulling one of them into a knot. He let out a soft curse, and yanked at the ribbon, snapping it.

He sent her a slightly startled look. “I’m sorry.”

Verity laughed softly. “Really?” She crossed her arms beneath her head, the bodice and chemise sliding to the sides. She felt aflame, and she knew it shone in her eyes, in the catlike smile she sent up at him.

“No. Not really.” He pushed the clothes completely away and gazed down at her for a long moment.

It seemed to Verity that she could feel the heat of his eyes tracking across her. She reveled in that heat, the desire that stamped his face pushing her own hunger higher. Nathan slowly ran his finger across her breasts, tracing the circle of her nipples, his eyes darkening as he watched. Then he bent to kiss the tops of her breasts, his lips as light and soft as butterfly wings, teasing, and she arched up, wanting more, and at last he took her nipple into his mouth. The pull of his lips, the stroke of his tongue sent a long, slow surge of passion through her.

Verity could not hold back a moan, and she dug her fingers into his hair, urging him on. She wrapped her legs around him, aching to take him inside her and frustrated by the barrier of their clothes. Nathan reached beneath her skirt, shoving it up and gliding his hand up her thigh.

But still, her clothes impeded them. Verity wanted to feel his fingertips on her skin, to have him flush against her. She pushed his jacket back from his shoulders, and Nathan reared up, shrugging out of jacket, shirt, and waistcoat all at once and flinging them aside.

He came back to her and took her lips in another deep kiss. Verity roamed her hands over his shoulders and back, her fingers digging into his flesh whenever his mouth sent some new tremor of delight through her. Her fingers followed the curve of his buttocks, and then she slipped one hand around to his front, dipping inside the waistband of his breeches. She felt the pulse of his response against her pelvis.

She fumbled at the buttons of his trousers, and Nathan let out a low growl of hunger and frustration. He rolled away and began to remove his boots and breeches, and Verity seized the opportunity to peel off the rest of her clothes, as well.

Nathan turned back to her, his eyes smoldering as they drifted down her body. “You are beautiful.”

“So are you,” Verity replied.

“Beautiful?” He quirked an eyebrow.

“Yes.” She reached up and combed her fingers through his hair. “Such wonderfully mussed curls.” She traced his eyebrow. “Eyes women swoon over.” Her forefinger dropped to follow the curve of his lips. “Very kissable mouth.” She trailed her fingertips down the side of his neck and over his collarbone onto the muscles of his arm, her touch light as a feather. “Very kissable everything.”

She demonstrated by sitting up and brushing her lips against his mouth, then his throat, then the bony point of his shoulder, as she flattened her hands against his chest and slid them down over his sides. Casting a little sideways grin up at him, she said, “You don’t like me saying you’re beautiful?”

“Oh, I like it.” He curved his hand around the back of her neck and kissed her. “Very much.” He nibbled gently at her earlobe and let out a soft chuckle. “Though somehow it doesn’t seem very manly.”

Verity closed her eyes, the touch of his teeth on her skin vibrating through her. “Of course it is.” She slid one hand downward to take him in her hand. He sucked in a breath. “And you’re quite manly.”

Nathan took her mouth in a fierce kiss, his hands on her shoulders bearing her back down to the floor. Verity felt as if he were consuming her, and she loved it. She kissed him, claiming him as much as he claimed her, and she opened her legs for him in silent invitation.

She could feel him, stiff and pulsing, probing at the soft center of her, the movement teasing and arousing until she felt as if she might go mad, and then, at last, he slid into her with aching slowness, stretching and filling her in the most elemental way. It was everything she wanted and yet not enough.

Verity wrapped her legs around him, and he began to move, still with that same unhurried sensual stroke that was both delightful and frustrating. She dug her fingers into his back, urging him on. Then, at last, his movements quickened, matching her urgency, and the coil of desire in her grew ever tighter, until she was panting, aching for release. She gasped as pleasure exploded within her, and Nathan shuddered, letting out a hoarse cry as they tumbled together into the shattering depths of passion.

Nathan collapsed against her. He nuzzled into the crook of her neck, murmuring her name, then rolled to the side, taking his weight from her. Verity wished he had not been so considerate; she had liked feeling his body against hers, warm and substantial. But she felt too replete, too stunned, to even make a coherent sentence.

He curled his arm around her, and she snuggled against his side, her head on his shoulder. Was this really her—feeling so soft and warm, as if she could melt into him? So lacking in thought or alertness, so drifting in happiness and pleasure?

Nathan idly stroked his hand up and down her arm, his body growing lax against her. His hand stilled, his breathing slowed, and he dozed. Verity didn’t mind; she liked this unguarded moment, when she could smooth her hand over his skin and breathe in the scent of him unnoticed, when she didn’t have to be strong or pragmatic or skeptical. When she could be the vulnerable creature that usually hid inside her hard outer shell. She could be soft and calm without worrying about what danger she was opening herself up to.

Verity rose onto her elbow and looked at Nathan. His face was slack with sleep, lashes shadowing his cheeks. It was unfair for a man to have such thick lashes. And hair that curled in such loose soft waves—a stray curl was always tumbling down onto Nathan’s forehead in a boyish, appealing way. It made concentrating on anything but him very hard to do. He was eminently appealing asleep like this. But even more so when he was awake and she could look into his eyes, see his smile, hear his laugh.

What does he see in me? she wondered. She wasn’t modest enough to deny that she was attractive or that men often desired her...at least until they came up against the cold iron in her. But Nathan was well aware of her nature, had come up against her hardness and her blunt speech. She had teased him into frustration—and clearly enjoyed doing so. He knew her past, knew more than anyone else had.

Though she wore bold colors to suit her pose as Mrs. Billingham, the truth was Mrs. Billingham’s style was not far from Verity’s own. She had long chafed under the necessity to dress so that she went unnoticed.

Verity was too bold and unladylike in every way. And Nathan wasn’t the sort to sleep with a woman just because she was willing. Yet he wanted her. Indeed, she felt rather sure he went against his better judgment in making love to her. But he had.

Well, she might not understand it, but she wasn’t about to argue against her good fortune. Verity smiled to herself and lay back down, nestling against Nathan and looping her arm across his chest. Closing her eyes, she too fell asleep.

She was quick to wake up, though, when she felt Nathan stirring. She turned onto her other side, facing away from him, suddenly feeling a little shy. There was another thing she wasn’t accustomed to feeling, but everything was so different with Nathan. She closed her eyes and lay there, wondering what he would do, what he would say. Perhaps he would kiss her shoulder or caress her back, telling her...

“I’m sorry. Verity, I’m so sorry.”

“What?” Verity shot up to a sitting position, her dreamy thoughts exploding. Pain pierced her chest, and she was barely able to push back the tears that wanted to well in her eyes. “You’re sorry?” At least her voice had sounded more indignant than hurt.