“Very well, William,” she relented. “Is there anything I can do to help you pass the evening peacefully?”
His eyes flashed over her figure—he could not help it—but he forced himself to look back to her face. “I have longed for your presence, Elizabeth. Simply occupying the same room with you brings me more peace than I can express.”
“I think I can do better than that,” she smiled. She cast a mischievous glance toward the door, where the stoic footman’s shoulder could just be seen. She then touched the index finger of her free hand to her lips and began to silently ease herself from her chair.
Puzzled, he rose to follow her, and when she reached for his hand again, he gave it readily. She rose on her toes once, peeking over his shoulder toward the door, and drew him a few more steps from the table until she was satisfied.
“Elizabeth,” he whispered, curious at her precautions, “what are you about?”
She made no answer, but lifted her hands toward his shoulders. She paused, catching his eye and waiting for his permission. He felt his chest swell. Was she truly making an advance? His face burned, warming even the tips of his ears.
She must have seen what she was looking for in his eyes, for her slow, gentle hands slid carefully up his chest to his shoulders. He was staring, drinking in every detail—the way her fingers spread, as if to take more of him to herself, the flutter of her nostrils as her breathing grew ragged, the sudden blackness of the eyes she turned up to him. Cautiously, he brushed her waist with his fingertips, and a spear of desire shot through his body.
He curled his fingers, closing his eyes and clawing desperately for control. He had so little strength to resist, and she was truly there, willingly captivating him. She could not know in what danger she was placing herself! A maiden such as she must little imagine how ardent his thoughts had become in an instant, but a vision of himself as a great lion dragging down its helpless prey cooled him at once. He could not do that to Elizabeth… could not betray her trust or steal her virtue….
Warm fingers slid up the back of his neck, and he was lost once more. She teased his head lower, and he opened his eyes just long enough to see hers fall closed. Her breath shivered over his lips and he responded with a hesitant caress. Her lips were soft, the taste of her skin sweet. Somehow his arms had found their way about her waist, and he was sweeping his hands down her back. She felt firm, vibrant, and so very real!
She arched, startled at his intimate touch, but he could not release her now. Instead, he drew her closer, deepened their kiss, and his hands strayed ever farther. He could feel her pulse through his chest, and each breath of hers complimented his.One flesh… the phrase lanced through his consciousness and he groaned in ecstasy. Not long now and they truly would become such, and then her courage and cheer, her faithfulness and cleverness, could be his own.Elizabeth.
He had curled her into his embrace so that her head rested upon his shoulder as it tipped up to him, and his body acted as a balance for hers. He deemed it necessary, for her legs seemed to have grown unstable. Sweet, delicious Elizabeth, how could she have known thatshewas what he had craved to soothe his cares on this night? She was meeting each touch with an ardour to match his, and an occasional gasp informed him that, perhaps, this notion of hers had been as much to serve her desires as his own. He smiled at the thought. Glorious woman!
His near hand wove into the rich nest of curls at the base of her neck, reveling at last in the luxuriant silk. How long he had ached to test its softness, to know if the lavender scent came from those tresses or somewhere about her neck! He still could not be certain, but he vowed to learn the truth of the mystery. There was so much more of her to discover, secrets to unveil….
She stiffened in his arms and lifted her chin away from him with an uncomfortable little gasp. “William,” she whispered, and squirmed faintly under his hand.
Too late, he realised what he had done. While one hand was twining deliriously in her hair, the other had fallen to squeeze…. He fell back, withdrawing completely. “Forgive me, Elizabeth!”
She was laughing silently. “Sir, I think my father would insist upon your honour in this circumstance.”
“He may have it. I have no use for it. So long as he gives you to me, he may take all the rest.”
She reached for him again, lacing her fingers at the base of his neck, and stood on her toes. “We should leave the room, William. The footman has disappeared.”
He clasped his arms about her, sighing into her rich chocolate crown. “You cannot know what this has meant to me, Elizabeth,” he whispered. “Thank you.”
She trailed her fingers back down from his neck, tangling them playfully in his beard before letting them fall again to his chest. “I did not do it for you, William,” she teased.
He trembled in a surprised chuckle. How could he ever be fearful or desolate again, with her in his life? While his own faith was still weak, she lent him hers. No greater treasure could he possess than one who would stand by him, forgiving when he had been wrong and loving even when he had been unlovable. He swallowed and lifted her hand in his own, threading her fingers between his and admiring the contrast of her soft skin against his own flesh.
“Elizabeth, perhaps you were right before. It might be best if I seek out Georgiana this evening.”
“That is wise, for I think if we retired to the library, we would not read.”
Dear heaven, he was laughing again! A few weeks ago, he thought he might never laugh, and now he could not stop.
She smiled and wound her arms about his neck again to press a final kiss to his chin. “I have missed you, William, but I can share you for this evening. Would you mind…” she fell to her normal height and coquettishly bit her lip, “… perhaps Georgiana would like it if you carried her some tea. I think Mrs Reynolds would be happy to make it herself, if you were to ask.”
He captured her hands as she slid them away. “If I am not careful, you will have me taking a Scotch to Richard in Lambton this evening, as well.”
“Now that is a capital idea,” she agreed. “I think he could do with a drink.”
He released her hands and sighed wearily. “You told me once that I was arrogant and disdainful of the feelings of others. I do not wish to be so.”
“I was wrong. You are not arrogant, you merely despise weakness in yourself. Trusting them is not weak, William. In fact, I believe it would strengthen you.”
He surprised her with a fervent embrace, assuring himself once more of her—everything about her. “I love you, Elizabeth,” he rumbled in her ear.
Chapter fifty
