With that, he turned and steered her towards the house, his presence a steadying force at her back. His words tumbled about in her head as they ascended the stairs into the foyer, where they met a frazzled Salisbury and her nephews in a state of partial undress.
Philip tugged off his hat and gloves, tossing them on a rack with the boys’ coats, then brought the force of his attention back to her. He sat on the bench that stretched across the foyer, then unwound the scarf from her neck and laid it beside his hat. Then he turned his focus to her.
After capturing her left wrist in one hand, he tugged off her gloves, finger by finger, with the other. He tossed the glove aside and rubbed her fingers against his palm, restoring the circulation. Then he repeated the steps with her other hand.
By the time he’d tossed her right glove aside, her breath was coming faster, and hot, heavy desire curled tighter and tighter low in her belly.
It’s lust.You’ve been alone for so long, and he’s giving you so much attention.
Passion had sparked hot and blazed bright from the moment they’d been introduced. He stole a kiss from her the night they met,and she stole several more from him at a musicale the following week. On the evening of their betrothal ball, she’d pulled him into the butler’s pantry, locked the door, and put his hands between her legs until she came with a shuddering cry that summoned two of the kitchen maids concerned with her wellbeing. She’d dreamed of their wedding night, the passion they’d unleash and discover together.
But she’d lost her maidenhead with a few thrusts that merely hinted at the pleasure they could share.
Lust isn’t forgiveness,she reminded herself, mentally reconstructing the walls that had been crumbling since he arrived on her doorstep. She clenched her jaw, prepared to send him off and take care of herself, as she had been for the past eight years.
He lifted one boot and put it on his sturdy thigh, and her breath caught, trapped in her chest. Immediately she bobbled and dropped a hand to his shoulder to steady herself. His gaze locked with hers for a long, heated moment as he pushed her sodden skirts high enough to expose the laces.
“You don’t have to do this,” she managed, her words reedy. Her fingers curled into the soft fabric at his shoulders, and she wanted to cling to the muscles she found there.
“I know.” His thick fingers teased the knot free and loosened the laces, sliding the boot from her foot. He wrapped his palm around her ankle and held her steady. “Thank you for allowing me.”
As though she had any power at this moment. Yes, she could escape his hold with barely any effort, but the care in his touch, thereverence as he lowered her foot to the floor and lifted her other boot to his sturdy thigh…
Setting the second boot aside, he held her foot again, pressing the arch with the flat of his thumb as he held her gaze. “Your stocking is wet,” he murmured, andhell,when had commenting on the state of her laundry been so bloody erotic? “I’ll call for a bath in our room.”
Our room. “N-no, there’s no need.” His eyes darkened. “Salisbury is already swamped with work.” As she spoke, their dear butler had piled the boys’ soaked clothing high in his arms, and he shot her a grateful smile.
Philip stood, once again reminding her how he towered over her, how he could protect her, steady her. He dragged his hand down her arm, pausing to catch her fingers in his. “Will you let me take care of you?”
She should have fired a retort back at him, something about not needing his help, how his absence taught her to rely only on herself.
But the words died on her tongue. Her lust was a blazing thing deep in her core, a star burning away the resistance she’d cultivated. And the blatant desire in his hooded gaze only fueled the burn, made her press her thighs together and seek some relief from the inferno he’d caused.
She needed this; she neededhim.
“Fine,” she whispered, “you can take care of me.”
Chapter 8
Philip’sheartthunderedashe watched Lily ascend the stairs, her lovely full bottom swaying beneath her soaked skirts. Had he been imagining the desire in her eyes, the parting of her lips and breathy sighs as he removed her gloves and boots?
He tried—unsuccessfully—to tamp down the hope that she was warming to him, even if all she felt towards him was lust. Could he prove with his actions, simple as they were, that she could trust him?
“Uncle Philip!”
He started, blinked several times before he realized Matthew was standing in front of him, hands planted on his slim hips and scowling. “Ah, yes, drinking chocolate.” He motioned to the back of the house and the kitchens with his thumb. “Shall we?”
With Cook’s permission, he heated a saucepan of milk on the stove and helped the boys spoon in and stir the cocoa powder. After adding a liberal amount of sugar, he stirred the mixtureand poured it into waiting mugs.
His nephews grinned when they showered him with praise after taking their first sips. Even Cricket settled in a furry ball at Reggie’s feet, apparently satisfied that an entire roast chicken was unlikely to fall from the table into his expectant jaws and sleeping was a better use of his time. The kitchen fell silent, warm and sweet-smelling as they drank, and his mind drifted back to Lily. She must have changed by now; the idea of her fully clothed was disappointing, but he couldn’t presume she’d welcome him into her space while she was vulnerable.
She welcomed me into her bed.
His cock kicked at that and, realizing tenting his trousers in the presence of children was less than ideal, busied himself with cleaning up after himself. He was here to earn her forgiveness, not to turn her into an object of his desires.
Reggie cleared his throat. “You should make this for Aunt Lily.”
He paused in wiping off the stovetop. “Why is that?”
