He stared at her, stunned. Suddenly a laugh welled up, breaking free. His head fell back against the pillows as his mirth washed over him.
“And what is so funny?” she demanded.
Her voice held hints of aggravation and frustration. His chuckles died down, but he couldn’t erase the smile from his face for anything. He had never been so blasted happy in his life. “Are you angry at me for not ravishing you?”
“No, of course not.”
She tried once more to rise. He rolled them over, so he was half on top of her, the truth finally sinking in that she was serious.
“You wish for me to ravish you?” he asked.
“Would it be so terrible?”
Her voice was so small, he could tell it had taken everything in her to ask that simple question. Leaning down, he took her lips in a gentle kiss. “It would not be terrible,” he whispered. “In fact, it would be the single most amazing event in my entire life. But,” he continued when she would have opened her mouth to argue, “I cannot. I’ll keep what I can of my honor; I promised not to ruin you, and I won’t go back on that.”
Her fingers dove into his hair, increasing both his pain and his pleasure a thousandfold. “You’re the most honorable man I know.”
“I’m not. If I was, I wouldn’t have come to you tonight.”
She was silent for so long, he thought she wouldn’t answer. Then, in a quiet voice, “I’m glad you did.”
“I’m glad as well,” he said through a throat thick with some emotion he could not—would not—name. As he claimed her lips again, he ignored the small voice in the back of his mind that said that, as glad as he was now, the pain of leaving would only be worse.
Chapter 20
Miss Hartley,” Quincy said the next morning after they had all sat down to breakfast, “you look none the worse for your ordeal yesterday. As a matter of fact, you appear to have a fresh bloom on your cheeks.”
Peter, transfixed by that very same blush—and knowing the reason for it—nearly choked on his coffee. Blessedly Margery spoke up, drawing any attention he may have attracted to himself.
“Oh, goodness, Lenora, I hope you’re not feverish.”
“Of course not,” Lenora said in a perfectly normal voice. The blush staining her cheeks, however, didn’t help matters in the least.
Margery rose from her seat and went to Lenora, placing her wrist against her forehead. She frowned. “You’re not warm,” she murmured. “Quite cool, in fact.”
“I told you I wasn’t feverish.”
She bent down to peer closely at her friend. “But there is something different just the same.”
Lenora’s fingers worked at the triangle of toast she had been eating, turning it to crumbs. She cast Peter the briefest of glances, but it said volumes.
Ah, God, those eyes. But it wouldn’t help matters if he were caught staring at her like a lovesick calf. He straightened and placed his coffee cup down. “It was quite an ordeal she went through last night.” Then, hoping to distract Margery, he asked in an offhand manner, “I wonder what Lady Tesh has planned for us today? Now that the storm has passed, she no doubt has something up her sleeve.”
Giving Lenora one last confused glance, Margery returned to her seat. “She mentioned something about the cliffs, but I talked her into letting Lenora rest for the day.”
From the pained look on Margery’s face, he assumed that conversation hadn’t been an easy one. But it was soon replaced with her typical calm demeanor. She took a small sip from her steaming cup and smiled at Lenora. “Which means we shall have the entire day to laze about.”
Lenora smiled back. “That sounds divine.”
Peter’s stomach flipped, watching that small curve of lips. Lips he had kissed just last night. Lips that had trailed hungrily over his skin.
He poked at a piece of ham, then quickly returned to his coffee, taking a deep swallow and letting the rich, bitter brew seep into him. Last night would have to be their only intimate memory together. He shouldn’t have gone to her in the first place; he couldn’t make that same mistake again.
His gaze drifted back to Lenora, and despite his intentions, he felt a decided softening in the region of his chest when their eyes met. She gave him a small smile before she returned her attentions to Margery.
That curve of lips, that warm gaze, obliterated in seconds what he had been attempting to build all morning: the strong will that would be needed to keep away from her the duration of his stay, and to leave her at the end of his month here.
For he couldn’t fool himself any longer. It was not his estranged family he would be leaving. No, it was her. She had become the center of everything to him.
