Rising up onto her elbows, she met and held his gaze. “You’re not taking advantage if it’s what I want. If we can pleasure each other without my losing my virginity, where’s the harm?”
Could he resist the temptation of possessing her fully? She knew not what she asked of him. But neither could he turn away the pleasure of having her naked in his arms. “You have to promise you won’t open your door to me unless it is what you want.”
“I promise.”
Cupping her head, he settled her back into the crook of his shoulder. Silence eased in between them. He didn’t mind it. It contained a comfortableness. He could hear her breathing, and that sound he especially liked.
“I probably shouldn’t linger much longer,” she said. “The maids will be coming in soon to relight the fires.”
On the hearth here only embers remained, dying out one by one. “I didn’t realize they did that. I’ve never stayed overnight in a noble’s house before.”
He’d visited his sisters several times in their grand residences—was pleased that they had such fine living accommodations—but had never seen any reason not to return to his own place at the end of the visit. While he had servants at his residence, they saw to the needs of the women more than his. They certainly didn’t go about lighting any fire he might want.
“I assumed as much when you offered to stir my fire. You should have said, ‘I’ll ring for a servant.’”
“Why would I do that when I can see to the matter myself?”
“Because that’s the way it’s done.”
Quickly, he rolled over onto her. She gave a little squeak, slapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide as they took him in. He had a clear view of her face because he’d hemmed her in between his arms and was resting on his elbows. “Besides, I thought you enjoyed the way I stirredyour fire. Shall I stir it once more before you take your leave?”
Chapter 22
Althea feared—as she sat beside Benedict on the sofa in the parlor while gifts were being exchanged—that anyone looking at her would be able to discern the wicked things she’d gotten up to during the night.
Before she’d left him, he had indeed stirred her fire and she had stirred his, at the same time, because he’d used his fingers instead of his tongue. Each method had its own advantages, and whenever she thought about him, warmth flushed her cheeks, and she was relatively certain they were as red as if she’d just come in out of the snow.
The babes were too young to really appreciate that they were being given a gift. Robin was striving to teach his wriggling pup to sit, but the rambunctious thing was more interested in exploring his new environs. After a rather spirited discussion in which everyone contributed names, Robin had decided to name the spaniel “Lucky” after declaring “the luckiest thing in the world is finding a home with the Trewloves.”
She was glad she’d brought gifts for the Trewloves because they were giving her things. She’d received a fine bottle of sherry from Thorne and Gillie, an ivory fan from Mick and Aslyn, hair ribbons from Finn and Lavinia, a knitted shawl from Mrs. Trewlove, and a rare first edition copy ofA Christmas Carolsigned by Charles Dickens from Fancy and Rosemont.
“Happy Christmas,” Aiden said, holding out both hands upon which rested two small boxes.
She took the one nearest to her while Benedict took the other. Usually after handing someone a gift the person moved on, but Aiden stood there rocking back and forth on his heels.
“Are you just going to stand there and watch us?” Benedict asked.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.”
While Benedict glared at Aiden, she opened her box. Her breath caught. Gingerly, she took out the miniature portrait of Benedict. It was done in oils, had an ethereal quality to it as though she was looking at it through angel wings. She lifted her gaze to Aiden. “Did you do this?”
“I did.”
“You’re so talented.”
“Do you like the one I did of you?”
“Of me?”
He tipped his head toward Benedict. When she glanced over at him, it was to see him studying a miniature resting in the palm of his hand. A perfect likeness of her.
“How did you manage that? From memory?”
“I sketched you while watching you best Chadbourne.”
“Why?”
“Thought I’d be seeing you again, and might have a need for it.”
