Confusion swam in her mind. “I don’t understand?—”
“You drive me mad.” The confession tore from him like it cost him everything. “Every thought, every moment you’re there. I see you in the morning light streaming through my study windows. I hear your voice when I read poetry. I taste you in my wine.” His forehead dropped to rest against hers, his breathing ragged. “I’ve spent seventeen years perfecting control, building walls, maintaining distance. With you, all of it crumbles. One smile, and I forget every lesson I learned. One touch, and I’m undone.”
Cressida felt her anger softening despite herself, melting into something more dangerous. “You speak as though that’s a terrible thing.”
“It is.” His free hand found her waist, gripping it hard enough that she felt the heat of his palm through silk and stays. “I’ve seen what happens when control is lost. I’ve watched passion destroy everything it touches. I swore I’d never—” He broke off, shaking his head.
“Never what?” she pressed. “Never feel? Never want? Neverlive?”
“Never become the man who destroyed his family.” The words emerged as though dragged from somewhere deep and wounded. “Never let desire override honor. Never choose selfishness over duty.”
“I’m not asking you to destroy anything,” Cressida said quietly. “I’m asking you to let yourself feel what’s already there.”
His hands trembled against her. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“Don’t I?” She reached up to cup his face, forcing him to meet her gaze. “I’m asking you to stop punishing yourself for sins you didn’t commit. I’m asking you to believe that wanting your own wife isn’t a moral failing.” Her thumbs stroked across his cheekbones. “I’m asking you to let go.”
“What?”
“Let go,” she repeated, meeting his gaze with all the courage she possessed. “Stop fighting it. Stop fightingme. Stop carrying burdens that were never yours to carry. Just… let go.”
Theodore made a sound low in his throat, a sound between surrender and damnation. Then his mouth crashed onto hers.
This kiss had absolutely no hesitation, no careful exploration, nothing measured or controlled behind it. It was need stripped raw, hunger given permission, seventeen years of iron discipline shattering in an instant.
Cressida kissed him back with equal desperation, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer despite the impossibility of eliminating the space between them. She tasted his groan, felt it vibrate through her chest as his hand slid from her face to her throat, his thumb pressing against her racing pulse.
“Don’t stop,” she gasped when he tore his mouth away to trace kisses along her jaw. “Theodore, please don’t stop this time.”
His teeth grazed her earlobe.
“Oh, I won’t. I doubt I can,” he groaned.
Then he was moving, pulling her with him down the corridor with barely contained urgency.
Cressida stumbled, her emerald skirts tangling around her legs, but Theodore’s arm locked around her waist, keeping her upright as he guided her past closed doors and shadowed alcoves.
He stopped at a small parlor, shoving the door open and pulling her inside before locking it behind them with decisive finality. The click of the lock sounded impossibly loud in the sudden quiet.
Moonlight filtered through tall windows, painting silver across furniture draped in holland covers. The room smelled faintly of beeswax and disuse.
Perfect.
Theodore turned her to face him, his hands framing her face with unexpected gentleness that contrasted sharply with the wildness in his eyes, and kissed her again, softer this time, thoroughly, his mouth moving against hers with devastating skill. She melted into him, her hands sliding beneath his coat to feel the heat of his body.
He walked her backward until her legs hit something. A chaise, she realized as he lowered her onto the cushions with careful control that seemed at odds with the hunger oozing off him.
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” he observed, his voice rough as his fingers found the fastenings of her gown.
“So are you.” Cressida tugged at his cravat, making a mess of the elaborate knot.
He caught her hands. “Not yet. Tonight is about you.”
Her heart stuttered against her ribs at that devastatingly soft statement. “Theodore…” she gasped.
“Let me.” He pressed a kiss to her palm, then her wrist, his mouth trailing fire across her skin. “Let me show you what it means when I say you’re mine.”
Cressida nodded, unable to form words as his fingers unfastened the tiny buttons running down her spine with practicedefficiency. The bodice loosened, fell away, and his hands slid inside to find the delicate chemise beneath.
