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Orris did not know what she was doing, but some invisible yearning had her open her legs and run a finger over the delicate folds. Without thinking, she put her essence-coated fingers in his mouth and latched onto his neck before licking her way down into the coarse hairs covering his chest.

He growled, a hand running up her neck, and pressed his mouth onto her skin. “I want to take my—”

Without warning, there was a knock at the door.

Abram cursed under his breath, unable to finish whatever luscious thing he’d been about to say. Orris choked down the scream that threatened to rip free from her body, not because she wanted to. Because she had to. She had never felt so alive and so afraid.

“Yes?” Abram’s voice sounded like a roar.

“Mr. Fain, the viscount would like to see you in the study,” Dorchester said from the other side of the door.

“I shall be there momentarily.”

He and Orris stood there, panting, staring into one another’s eyes.

Orris did not know whether she was angry or relieved. There were so many things happening inside her, she felt that if they had kept going, she would never have been the same again.

“I have to go,” he breathed.

“I know,” she said.

Before she could walk away from him, he smoothed the thin satin over her hips and closed her robe, tying it into a tight knot.

“Orris, do not return tomorrow night,” he said. “We should not do this. This is for your husband. Whoever that may be. Not for me.”

The hot lick of embarrassment swept over both cheeks with such intensity, she would have thought it physical. Should she have been able to shrink down to the size of a mouse, she would have. “I can decide what I want to do—” The tension between them was palpable. She knew he wanted her. If only she could make him see. She could make this choice for herself. She was not a child. Until just a few weeks prior, Orris had decided she should never wed.

“No, you cannot. Not with this. Not with me. Do you understand?” How could he ask such a thing? How could it not pain him to push her away? Forcing her words around the lump in her throat, she continued. “Why, Abram? It is my choice who—”

“Because… I could never let you go. And I think we both know I am in no position to keep you safe until I find out who is out there with my name on a death warrant. Now please. Go,” he said. His voice left no room for question.

Orris did not look back as she exited the room. Instead, she ignored every instinct, every desire to crawl back into his arms, and dragged herself inside her bedchambers.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Yes, Abram knew that he should have skipped breakfast with the Gray family. He simply could not help himself. That seemed to be the way of things for him lately. He had taken things way too far with Orris the night before. The final nail in his coffin was the inability to stay away from her that following morning.

What was happening to him? Never before had he lost control of his faculties. Never before meeting her had he been utterly compelled to do the exact worst thing for everyone in his life.

After she had left, he’d spent the evening on the verge of coming undone. After sending word to Lord Fredericks that he was not feeling himself—no truer statement had he ever uttered—he’d prowled the room all evening like a beast in a cage. He wanted her more than anything. He wanted her more than he cared to save his own life. He could still smell her, the sweet scent of lavender and chamomile. He could still taste her flesh in his mouth. He burned for her to be in his arms again.

She was the most precious thing he had ever held. Her scent enveloped him, the lavender as if he had crushed it himself, with his bare hands.

In the silence of his room, he had tried to relieve the pressing burden of his lust. Her image, the feel of her skin, the heat of her body, the sheer devastation of holding her in his arms had driven him into frenzy. He could almost feel himself inside her as he released, the smell of her on his hands aiding in his efforts. He had licked them as if they’d been her. Pure torment, and seeing her again that morning could only make it worse.

Thankfully, he had agreed to meet the following morning early. If he’d had good sense, he would have left right after the meeting. Unfortunately, no one had ever accused Abram of having good sense.

Abram walked into the room, sure he looked disheveled. “Hello, Samuel.”

Samuel sat at the desk in the study and put his paper down, staring up at him. “Good Lord, man, you look terrible. I hope whatever you had yesterday isn’t catching.”

“Perhaps it is.” Abram took a seat across from Samuel at the desk. He rested his head in his hands, fighting off the lightheaded feeling that accompanied the lack of sleep.

“I hope you are well soon. At any rate, did you want to see me yesterday?”

“Yes. I have acquired a slip of paper indicating that someone was tracking us. I retrieved it from the landlord who had let us the apartments. The names of everywhere we have been. And then the name of a man whom I have never met scrawled on the back.” Abram leaned forward and passed the paper over to Samuel.

He took it and reviewed the information upon it. “I have never heard of him, either. I think my brother should know. He knows most people who frequent the Dove. I will take it to him and inquire.”