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“I cannot understand why John married you, if he didn’t intend to…”
She turned to him again. “I’ve asked myself this same question, but could never come to a conclusion.”
A mystery his uncle took to the grave. Philip couldn’t say he lamented it. Selene became totally his and he couldn’t help feeling smug about it.
He took the coverlet and slowly pulled it downwards.
“What are you doing?” She tried to hold it. Unsuccessfully.
“I want to see you in the moonlight.” He uncovered all her body. An ethereal light fell over her making her even more alluring. “My moon goddess!” And lowered his head to take her breast in his mouth.
She moaned. “You reprobate!”
“You’ll have to talk to the reprobate down here.” He muttered, as he moved it to touch her thigh and show its sinful condition.
Immediately her hand went down to touch it. Her mouth reached his ear. “You can’t mention it like that.” She confided. “It makes me want it.”
“So I’ll never stop talking about it.”
Desire and passion took them over yet again.
They had been invited to a soiree the following evening. Her friend, Viscountess Wilkinson hosted it and Selene felt happy she’d be among her dear friends again.
They sat in the drawing room as both her friends, the Viscountess and Lady Milton performed. Lady Wilkinson at the pianoforte, and Lady Milton singing. They delivered a pleasant musical evening.
At a certain point, Selene saw Lord Pendleton’s daughter, Emily, sit shyly by the duke. Selene sat a couple of rows back. Who could blame the debutante? Philip had everything a woman could possibly wish, looks, a title and the nights with him were… The thought that someone would one day share his…intimacy felt like acid in her stomach. It burned endlessly, bubbling a suffocating nausea she had to swallow dryly. She fought fiercely against that nasty feeling, but it didn’t go away.
He would have to choose a wife sooner or later. Why this effervescent reaction? She wondered as she saw him turn to Emily and smile politely. The girl would be a perfect choice, after all. Her family could be traced back to William, the Conqueror, together with Philip’s own lineage. They’d produce heirs that would unite two of the most important coat of arms in England.
Selene sat there, frozen. Any reaction would denounce her. What would be of her when it finally took place? Loneliness, abandonment, shame. She’d have the memories, though. Those, no one would take from her. She knew she’d suffer, as she realised she was in too deep. She wished she’d never married, never met him. Her life would have been sheltered and peaceful. That life wouldn’t have had Philip in it. The thought made her feel even sadder. Not knowing him and the intense, consuming passion he made her feel would constitute a great loss. She’d lost her dream of a love match, she had…this now. It would have to suffice. She’d have to brace herself to endure what would come in the end, though. How she’d do that was a mystery.
Philip cursed inward colourfully as Lady Emily sat by his side, encouraged by her zealous mama, no doubt. He cursed even more not being able to sit by Selene’s side. No other woman interested him. When he’d told Darius, his friend, that he’d spent six months in the continent as a monk, his friend scoffed at him. Italian and French naughty beauties tried their luck. He hadn’t felt tempted. All he’d wanted was to come back home and find her. Like now. He wanted just this damn soiree over so they could… He didn’t say anything to Darius, naturally. Philip wouldn’t dare confess the…situation even to his best friend. He risked a glance back at her. She sat primly, eyes on the performance ahead. Not a muscle moved, her expression suave and immovable. Oh, but he wanted to break that apparent ice and reveal the incandescent woman underneath. Who would imagine he’d encounter such explosive passion right under his roof.
In the carriage back home, she continued as icy and immovable. Her comportment intrigued him. She made no comment, though. Soon they’d be home and… Yes, home. It felt like it, because she lived there. He wanted her to go on living there for a long, long time.
As they entered a deserted Crompton house, He saw her walk to the stairs, never looking at him. What the hell was going on?
“Good night.” She murmured and went ahead.
“What’s this all about?” He asked in a low serious voice.
She turned her head to him, her eyes unreadable. “Lady Emily would be a perfect match.” Climbing up the stairs, she disappeared in the hallway.
His stare followed her bewildered. She was jealous? He almost laughed to himself. There could be nothing more unnecessary for her to feel than that! Of course he’d never marry Lady Bloody Emily! He didn’t want to! Oh, but he wouldn’t spend his night alone just because of that chit!
He climbed up taking two steps at a time and headed to her room. He didn’t have the finesse to knock, he opened the door, came in and closed it silently. Fortunately, her lady’s maid was nowhere to be seen.
Her back to him, her hands on her hair, taking out pins. Her dress already gone. “I have no intention to marry Lady Emily or any other woman.” He said gravely, nearing her.
“You will have to, you know that.” Her hair totally loose now, fell down her back in rich streaks of brown.
“Not while we are embroiled in…this.” He embraced her from behind, his head lowering to merge in her hair, inhaling its perfume. So petite, she fit in his arms perfectly.
She sighed, her body sagged against his, her head fell on his chest. His hand encountered her breast over her chemise. He fondled it, gaining a moan from her.
“This is easily manageable.” She murmured as her arm lifted to hold him by the nape of his neck.
The movement stretched her body against him. His hands explored her over her chemise.
