Page 57 of How to Wed a Courtesan

Lottie moaned in his ear as she clung to him, shifting her hips in time with the flex of his pelvis. He slowed his pace, savouring the feel of her under him, around him, their bodies moving in perfect tandem. It was a marvel how each subtle shift brought the most exquisite pleasure.

Her breath was warm against the crook of his neck, her exhalations near his ear as her sweet, floral scent embraced him with an intoxicating decadence. She lifted her face and he kissed her as their bodies joined together, again and again. When her breathing changed, becoming faster, he quickened his thrusts, pumping into her.

Fire scorched his veins and they both panted with their effort until at last their bodies exploded with the force of their mutual release. They clung to one another as their climax took them. They didn’t let go, not even as their heartbeats calmed and their breathing evened.

Holding her was a heaven he’d dreamed of for far too long to relinquish her with any haste. No, he wanted to stay like this for ever, his blood humming with the lingering effects of their mutual pleasure, cradling her against him like something precious. His chest ached with the wish to have her this way always.

She gazed up at him, studying him with an expression he couldn’t read. He wanted to tell her he loved her again, that he would always love her. But even though they’d shared the depth of such intimacy, she seemed almost more skittish to him now than she had before.

Maybe it was being this close to her that made the force of his hope too powerful. To be rejected by her again after what they’d shared would be devastating.

He withdrew from her and rolled onto his side next to her. Neither spoke as he curled his arms around her protectively and held her. They remained thus until their body heat and emotional exhaustion had them drifting towards a quiet slumber.

It was some time before Evander woke. Light still peeked in through the bottoms of the drawn curtains, indicating night had not yet fallen. Lottie remained in his arms. At some point she’d turned in her slumber, so her head lay on his chest.

He stroked a lock of hair away from her face and studied her profile. Though six years had passed, she remained untouched by age. Her skin was still smooth as cream, her dark lashes long where they rested against her cheeks. But there was another element to her now.

When she’d been young, she hadn’t known of her own beauty. Now, as a woman, she was well aware of it—and of its power. It made her seem untouchable.

Except that she was there, next to him, having given herself wholly to him.

What she’d told him earlier that day sat like a stone in his chest. Their daughter, Lily. How hard it must have been for Lottie to endure what she’d gone through without him there. She had sacrificed every part of herself to ensure the safety of their child.

Evander had never faulted her for what she’d done to survive in his prolonged absence. Now, knowing all he did, he admired her for it. Her strength was unlike any other he’d known.

He ran the back of his hand down her cheek and she tilted her face towards the caress. A slow smile lifted the corners of her mouth. She blinked her eyes open and he was once more struck by the lovely, brilliant blue of her eyes.

‘It would appear we both fell asleep.’ She gave a lazy, indulgent chuckle, and put her hand under her chin to look up at him. ‘Thank you for being here today.’

‘For forcing my way in?’ He lifted a brow. ‘I hope Sarah won’t be judged too harshly.’

Lottie sighed. ‘Sarah knows exactly how much she can do without a reprimand. She takes advantage of how very dear she is to me.’

‘I’m grateful you have her.’ Evander swallowed. ‘That she was there for you when I wasn’t. I owe her an enormous debt of gratitude.’

‘You couldn’t possibly have known what had happened in your absence,’ Lottie said softly.

But not knowing didn’t excuse him from what he’d missed in Lottie’s life. And in Lily’s. Not when it was his own fault for not sending more than two letters that somehow never made their way to English soil.

‘I wish I could reverse time,’ he said. ‘To be there for you. And to meet her. I would give up anything to go back.’

But such wishes were impossible. All the money in the world couldn’t buy back time.

It was a hard-won lesson. And one whose effects would be felt for the rest of his life.

He looked across the room to where the painting of the cottage still stood on the easel, half finished. All around it, discarded on the floor, were other paintings. If he put them together he would know what the cottage looked like from all angles. And yet there were none of the little girl Lottie had described. There were none of Lily.

Suddenly he wanted the experience of going there. Of seeing where they’d lived—how they’d lived. And, if Lily had been buried there, of seeing her small grave.

‘Lottie,’ he said gently.

She followed his gaze. ‘Yes?’

‘Will you take me to the cottage?’

She stiffened. The movement would have been imperceptible had they not been so close to one another.

‘I beg your pardon?’ She pushed up and off him and rose on her elbows to regard him, the sheets tucked over her breasts.