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Entering his chamber, Philip placed her carefully on his bed. He unlaced her dress, undressing her down to her chemise. The hot chocolate had just arrived to his sitting room. He thanked the maid, closed the door and took it to his bedroom. He was sure the beverage wold make her feel better. He sat by her side. She hadn’t said anything yet, only had that vague look about her. He touched the cup to her lush lips. Feeling the sweet taste, she drank it without opposition.
He undressed down to his underwear, removed the coverlet, made her lie down in his arms. He enfolded her as she rested her head on his chest, pulling the coverlet over them.
“It’s my fault.” He tried to talk to her.
“No, it is not.” She murmured in a shaky voice that made him ache for her. “Charles would have found a way to retaliate sooner or later.”
“Perhaps, but I made it easier for him, sending that note to you.”
She placed a finger on his lips. “No, do not blame yourself.” Her voice firmer now. Maybe the chocolate was working its magic.
He kissed her finger. “I am to blame.”
“I wouldn’t have lived this day without that waltz.” She snuggled closer; he embraced her tighter.
Hearing her say that made him feel so…elated. He caught her hand, kissing each delicate finger. “You’re a damn of a strong woman, Lady Crompton!”
“Thank you, Lord Crompton.”
His hand took her hairpins out of her coiffeur, making her rich brown hair spread over her back in waves of rich brown. He caressed her glossy hair, his heart swelling until she filled all of it. What was this the woman did to him?
Philip cocooned her with all his body, wanting to protect her from any harm in the world. She embraced him in turn. He kissed her hair, her forehead, her cheek. Her eyes closed, revelling in his tenderness.
“Let’s sleep on it, my moon goddess.” His hand going up and down her back sweetly. “I’m sure tomorrow will shed light on this.”
She acquiesced, nodding. Caressing his arm, she sighed, falling asleep the next minute.
Philip lay there sensing her even breathing, her warm body under the chemise, her softness. He could stay like this forever. Darius was right. He was totally, desperately in love with her. There could be no more denying it. He couldn’t tell when it’d happened. Maybe in that first ball. Nah, that had been an initial bursting attraction. When he came to know the real reason she married his uncle. It made him awake to the woman in her, despite the fierce desire he always felt for her. She didn’t correspond to his feelings, for sure. It didn’t matter. This he felt for her was so complete and deep. He’d give the whole of it to her, not expecting anything in return, just to make her happy.
He had to do something about this situation, though. Trying to shield her form most of the consequences would be his goal in the next days. He’d also go after her half-brother. The idiot needed…straightening. The blasted wretch wouldn’t get away with it. Not if Philip could help it.
Selene moved, coming even closer to him. He enfolded her in his arms, holding her like he’d never let her go. He wouldn’t. He kept awake that night, not wanting to miss the feel of her.
She woke up to a feeling of completeness, warmth and satisfaction. Strong arms enfolded her, her cheek rested on a hair peppered, broad chest, both bodies fitting so perfectly. She revelled in it for a few minutes. Full consciousness downed, last night coming back with a revenge.
“Oh.” She groaned and tried to break free from him.
“Shh, it is alright.” He murmured and held her safe. He kissed her hair and caressed her cheeks until she calmed down again. She let him. The comfort he offered was only too welcome.
“What am I going to do, oh dear!” She embraced him, their bodies glued in utter tenderness. His hands stroking her cheeks, her shoulder, her arm didn’t help clear thinking.
“The obvious way out is marriage.” He said, as he kissed her brow.
Firmly, she shook her head. “I’ll not do this again!” She lifted her green gaze to him. “A loveless, forced marriage.”
He looked down at her, a strange expression in his clove eyes. “It’s not like we don’t have any…affinity.”
He meant passion, of course. It would fade away with time, especially if there came no deeper feelings. “No.” She insisted. “Besides, it’d be a poor solution. The step-aunt and the step-nephew? The ton wold talk about it for years!”
He held her both cheeks tenderly in his big, strong hands. “What do I care?”
“You have to care!” Their eyes met. “You could stain your name for the next generations.”
His thumbs caressed her silky skin. “It doesn’t matter. People would get used to it. We’re not related by blood, after all.”
“No.” Shaking her head repeatedly. “No!” She held his shoulders. “I won’t do this again.”
It had been painful enough the first time. Marrying him would be a very stupid mistake! Handsome and powerful, he could have any woman he wanted. Inside and outside marriage. She’d be signing up her declaration of unhappiness. Being married to John had been bearable. The late duke had been a fatherly presence for her, wise and respectful. Philip? Oh, no, he’d be the storm breaking through her life, leaving destruction and sorrow in its wake.
