Page 52 of The Work of Art

“When we parted in the drawing room, could you not see how grieved I was to lose you? My heart was breaking.”

“Philly…” He shook his head. “You don’t know me. You don’t know what kind of man I am. If you did—”

“But I do. You’re a man of honor. The only one I could turn to for help in my time of trouble.”

“You’re grateful to me.”

“It’s more than gratitude. Can you not see that? Why, I even gave you my hairpin as a token of my affection. Surely you must have recognized my feelings for you then? It was a rather childish gesture, I know, but…” Her words died on her lips as, before her eyes, he reached into a small pocket in his waistcoat and produced the hairpin of painted gold and glass. She stared at it in disbelief before raising her eyes back to his. “You’ve kept it with you?”

“I wanted to believe that you cared for me. That I was more to you than just your friend. But it seemed somehow impossible. I dared not hope—”

“I do care for you, Arthur. I care for you most dreadfully.”

Arthur looked down at her, his chest tightening on a flood of emotion. Caught up in its swell, he took her in his arms, and with a fierce tenderness, lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her.

Philly’s lips parted in surprise, resulting in his initial kiss being far more intimate than he’d intended. Arthur knew he’d alarmed her. Perhaps even frightened her. She’d clearly never been kissed before. But she made no protest and she didn’t pull away from him. He didn’t know what he would have done if she had.

“Arthur,” she breathed, one hand clutching weakly at the fabric of his waistcoat.

“I know, love. It’s all right.”

She looked up at him, eyes luminous, as he kissed her again. He drew her closer, pressing her firmly against his chest as his mouth moved on hers. She was so trusting. So vulnerable. It would be easy to become carried away. It didn’t seem to matter that he was closer to her now than he’d ever been before. It was still not sufficient. He wanted more of her. Needed more of her.

But he didn’t take more.

Instead he softened his kiss, gentling her and coaxing her until her eyes closed and her lips yielded endlessly to his. Philly had lips made for kissing. They were voluptuous and soft, her top lip slightly fuller than the bottom. They gave in to the slightest pressure, molding to his mouth with an unconscious sensuality that sent his pulse racing.

She didn’t return his kiss. Not yet. But she was warm and sweet and trembling with passion. He framed her face in his hands, meeting her gaze for a moment before softly capturing her mouth again.

Another kiss followed.

And then another.

Each was deeper and more thorough than the last.

Philly’s arms twined around his neck. She leaned into him. And the next time his mouth closed over hers, she kissed him back.

Arthur’s whole body tightened in response. “Is this to be my reward, then?” he asked thickly, when they finally broke apart.

“What reward?”

“For untying the Gordian knot.” He trailed kisses down the delicate flesh of her throat. Her fingers tightened in his hair and her body melted into his. He could feel every luscious contour of her small, feminine frame through the thin fabric of her nightclothes. His breath became heavy, his kisses more urgent.

“The Gordian knot?” she murmured. “Oh, yes. Of course.” She caught his lower lip in hers as he kissed her.

Arthur stifled a groan deep in his throat. It had been a very long time since he’d been with a woman, but never had he experienced anything to compare with this. Philly’s unschooled passion stirred his senses. She was sweet and soft, generous and welcoming. And when she looked at him, her cheeks flushed and her lips swollen from his kisses, he realized that he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything else in his whole life.

“What reward did Alexander the Great claim?” she asked as he began to ease her slowly back onto his bed. “I can’t seem to remember.”

“He became king of Asia.” Arthur lowered himself down alongside her and gathered her up in his arms. “But somehow, at the moment, this reward seems entirely more satisfying.”

Philly woke many hours later, still in Arthur’s arms. For a moment she couldn’t remember where she was or how she’d ended up there. When she did, a warm blush flooded throughout her entire body.

Her marriage to Captain Arthur Heywood was no longer a marriage in name only. It had been well and truly consummated. Thoroughly consummated, in fact, for after a brief period of rest, and several whispered assurances that she was, indeed, perfectly agreeable to the idea, Arthur had taken her a second time.

Philly had never experienced anything more wonderful. Or more terrifying. She’d been woefully ignorant of the intimacies of the marriage bed and hadn’t known what to expect at all. She needn’t have worried. Arthur had been a patient and unfailingly gentle teacher; coaxing her, caressing her, and soothing her maidenly fears with dozens of sweet words. He’d told her she was beautiful, and called her his darling and his sweetheart—endearments that still resonated in the deepest part of her being.

He hadn’t said that he loved her, not in so many words, but every kiss and every touch seemed to proclaim the depth of his feelings, and by the time Philly had drifted to sleep in his arms, she felt wholly secure in his affections.