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“You are worried he will find his way to the sideboard.”

“I’m worried his fist will find its way to my face if he suspects I’ve done more than kiss you.”

“Then after we’ve put in an appearance at the ball, while everyone is otherwise engaged …” She let the remainder of her sentence trail away and flicked her gaze to his.

“Sofia.” He groaned and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I want you too much. Christ, how I want you.” His grip tightened where his hands rested upon her hips and she felt an answering rush of desire. “And if it were only about pleasure, it would be enough to carry on as we have. But hurried caresses and a stumble towards mutual orgasm are paltry substitutes for the intimacy I want from you.” His arms tightened around her. “I want to love you with my hands and body and heart until every part of my soul is intertwined with yours.”

Sofia’s pulse skittered through her veins as if her heart had grown tired of her cowardice and caution and would find its way to Christopher, with or without the rest of her. Stupid heart. Stupid, stupid, impossible life.

She slid one hand around his neck and played her fingertips through his thick hair. “You love me. You are determined to marry me. Have you so little faith in your eventual success that you are unwilling to anticipate those vows?”

He lurched backwards. “Yes! No! Christ, Sofi, sometimes I can’t decide if I want to shake you or kiss you senseless.” He let out a frustrated sigh as she eased back into the warmth of his body, his muscles tensing against her.

“Have you not been with a woman, Christopher?”

“Of course I have! I’m not Gabriel.” He grumbled the last. “But not the woman I wish to wed. It’s a matter of respect, Sofi. For Gabriel, for your brother, and, most importantly, for you.”

Sofia drew back, creating just enough space between them that she could ease a hand up to his chest. Beneath her palm, his heart clambered wildly. She knew it would take very little to change his mind, and she wanted this. Wanted him. But pushing Christopher to defy his conscience when she knew their relationship would be fleeting felt more deceitful than Oliver stealing the dukedom from beneath Gabriel’s feet. While she would look back at their lovemaking as precious, he would experience it as another lie. The thought brought a physical ache to her chest, immediately dousing her lust.

“Not my room then,” she said. “The billiards room. No bed, and I promise to guard my virtue like a good little English girl.” Despite the jest, she meant it. She would not strip his honour from him. If that was all she could leave him with, it would have to be enough.

“You are the furthest thing from a good little English girl.” She felt his laugh as a rumble against her palm.

“Si, that is true. But for you, I will be.” Sofia lowered her eyes, overcome with shyness even before she loosed the words. “To hell with my brother’s feelings and your duke’s, but your feelings I will honour.”

She could feel the tension leave his body, once again granting her his unshakeable faith. A gift that both mended and tore at her heart.

He kissed her forehead, then her cheek, then lingered in the place behind her ear that never failed to send a zing of pleasure down her spine. “The billiards room then. Midnight? And I will coax as many consecutive orgasms from your body as it can tolerate.” He nibbled leisurely, and she squirmed against the delicious caress of his tongue.

“So long as you stay far away from my maidenhead, sir, as I am not that kind of girl.” His laugh flooded her with warmth.

“Miss Lioni!” Nora’s voice offered only a brief warning before she stepped from behind an apple tree, then quickly covered her eyes with her hands, very obviously peeking between the gaps of her fingers. “Oliver—he said I should call him that—said that if you two were close enough to waltz, I should cover my eyes because you would be kissing and I am too young to know about that … but telling me that did somewhat defeat the purpose of me not knowing. Also, I see Papa kiss Violet all the time.” The last few comments she said more to herself than Sofia and Christopher.

Her hands dropped then, and she met them with a buoyant smile. “You were kissing, weren’t you? Look at the way Christopher is blushing! My goodness, his cheeks are as red as apples. Oliver said that would happen too!” She squeaked and bounced on her toes while Christopher covered his admittedly very flushed face with his hands.

Sofia smiled. It was hard to reconcile this bashful, light-hearted man with the assertive, talkative lover he became at the slightest provocation. She felt her own blush rise and looked away to hide the effects of her thoughts.

“I knew it! I told Zachariah that Christopher liked you!” Nora crowed in delight.

“All right, you.” Christopher waved the chattering child off. “Consider us retrieved. We’ll be just behind you.”

“Oh no. Oliver said you would say that too, and that I was to escort you back.” Nora tried and failed to look solemn. “I take my job very seriously.”

Christopher gave Nora an indulgent smile and winged his arm to the child, settling her fingers in the crook of his elbow before offering the other to Sofia. “Come along, Miss Lioni. Our escort awaits us.”

Twenty-One

Oliver clipped violently at the hedgerow, stripping away lopsided chunks and pausing only briefly to glower at Christopher upon his return to the cabin.

“Picturing my face in the shrubbery?” Christopher smirked and leaned against a tree.

“You were away for fifty-five minutes. I hope your ancient joints are feeling sufficiently limber.”

“Was it that long?”

Oliver answered with another glare.

“Lower your hackles. We were only talking.”