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The Spinster’s Secret Stake

Page 90

by Collette Cameron

“Yes.” She cupped his cheek, and Shelby pressed his face into her soft palm. “I shan’t have secrets between us.”

“My love has belonged to you for longer than I can remember.” Resting his forehead against hers, his heart pounded so violently that he feared Roxina might hear. He traced his thumb over her cheekbone.

“I am wholly yours, Roxina—every breath, every thought, every aching desire. My heart beats for you alone, my soul belongs to you, and every inch of my body craves your touch. You own my dreams and my fears, my strength and my vulnerability. My devotion, my loyalty, my very essence—everything I am and I shall ever be—is yours. I exist solely to love you.”

A happy tear slid from the corner of one eye. Sweeping her mouth into a radiant smile, Roxina laughed, breathless and lilting. “And I’ll surrender none of it. You’ll find I’m quite greedy that way.”

“Excellent,” Shelby whispered, his voice husky with raw emotion. “Because I’ll never give it to anyone else.”

With that, he captured her mouth once more, determined to pour every ounce of his devotion into the kiss. He grazed his lips across hers, slow and unhurried, letting her feel the depth of his need and the promise of his unwavering loyalty. Cradling her face, he traced the delicate line of her jaw with his fingertips as he tilted her head, inviting her to meet him fully.

He tasted her with purposeful intent, savoring the softness of her lips as he coaxed them apart. He slipped his tongue between her lips, seeking and exploring, brushing against hers with a sensual, languid caress.

Her sweetness wrapped around his senses—warm and intoxicating—a flavor that was uniquely hers and undeniably addictive. He deepened the kiss, exploring every contour and curve of her mouth with slow, deliberate movements.

Slipping his hands from her face to her waist, Shelby drew Roxina closer, spreading his palms against her back as if he couldn’t bear even a breath of distance between them. He pressed her against him, feeling the heat of her body and the rapid flutter of her pulse beneath his touch.

A low, primal sound rumbled from his chest, driven by her response—yielding and bold all at once, giving as much as she took.

Shelby slid his hands lower, curving around her delightfully rounded bottom, and he pulled her flush against him, letting her feel the unmistakable evidence of his desire. Heat surged through him, burning away any shred of restraint, and he nipped at her lower lip, drawing a soft gasp from her. He trailed his mouth over the curve of her neck, brushing featherlight kisses along her skin, tasting the faint trace of lavender on her pulse point.

“I need you,” he whispered against her throat, his voice rough and ragged. “Tell me you’re mine—tonight and always.”

More than just passion, the yearning consumed Shelby. It drove him to claim her, to hold her, and never let go. Every kiss, every caress was a vow, an unspoken promise that Shelby would worship her with his body just as wholly as he adored her with his heart.

At a sound from above, Shelby raised his head.

“Roxina?” A man’s frail, hoarse voice threaded down the stairwell.

No, not any man’s voice.

Mitchel Danforth’s.

TWENTY FIVE

Still in the sitting room

Two or three excruciating heartbeats later

Stunned, suspicious, and battling the utter betrayal threatening to overtake him, Shelby drew back. “What⁠—?”

Why was Mitchel Danforth here?

“It’s not what you think, Shelby.” Roxina hurried to reassure him, clasping his forearm, her delicate features creased in earnestness. “A short while ago, while I tended the garden, Mitchel showed up, barely able to stand. He’s extremely ill and needs help. He said he had nowhere else to go.”

Shelby had no trouble believing that the craven, two-faced cur who lived off the kindness of others and repaid them with treachery would impose upon his kindhearted sister.

“In fact, I need to send for a physician.” She pulled her delicate eyebrows together and pinched her mouth tight for a moment. “In truth, I was about to do so when you knocked on the door.”

Dubiousness must have registered on Shelby’s face, for she hurriedly added, “I also determined to send a letter to Fernleigh House, informing you that Mitchel was here.”

Mitchel had a hell of a lot of nerve descending on Roxina for help after a lifetime of neglecting her. Desperate man and all that rot, and Roxina being the decent, noble woman she was, could not turn the undeserving wretch away.

Shelby would not have been magnanimous.

“Roxina?” Mitchel called again, pathetic and feeble.

“Come, Shelby. I’ll take you to him.” A sad smile curved her lips, regret darkening her eyes. “He’s a broken man. And while I can’t excuse his behavior, his actions, or the harm he’s caused both of us, the only emotion I can summon toward him now is pity.”