Page 24 of Dare it all for Love

He shook with the force of the struggle going on inside him, the battle between what we wanted and good sense. Bar the tremble in his limbs he kept utterly still and breathed in that maddening rose scent, fighting a silent war against desire, fighting to remain calm, to behave as he ought. His longing to shock her fought his need to behave like a gentleman as his composure fractured by degrees. His lips touched the smooth skin of her brow, his breath moving over her as he fought to control his need, to bring himself back to his senses. She shivered against him but made no protest, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her softness pillowed against his harder frame.

Stop this. Stop this. You are behaving like a madman. You’ll frighten the poor girl.

Henry drew in a shaky breath and pulled back, trying to find words to make an apology. Another mistake. A mistake to look into her eyes, expecting to see fury, but finding the emerald green dark with wanting.

“Please,” she whispered.

Henry closed his eyes, praying for patience, for sanity, for the strength to ignore the pounding of his heart, the way his blood was rushing through his veins, and the desperate throb of his aching cock. He wanted… so many things, with a longing too profound to comprehend.

“Henry. Please…”

He groaned, knowing he was in deep trouble, unable to resist that wicked please that would lead him to ruin. For that was the crux of the matter, it was not her in danger of ruination, it was him.

His hands moved up from her wrists, their fingers interlacing as he lowered his head and took her mouth. She opened for him at once, letting him in with no resistance and whatever sanity remained in his thick head shrivelled and died. He took and took, and she met him at every turn, giving everything he demanded with enthusiasm. Not her first kiss, he thought dimly, and though he’d wager she’d little experience, she learned quickly. Her lithe body pressed against his in invitation, her hands sinking into his hair.

Henry drew back, and she made a whimpering sound of protest.

“Hush,” he murmured, stripping off his sodden coat and waistcoat.

They were soaked through, and she did not need to be made any colder. Henry returned to her and took her in his arms once more, stealing another kiss, devouring her like a starving man offered the sweetest of treats. He became aware of the damp material of her gown through his thin shirt. Surely, she’d catch a chill if she didn’t take it off? She should take it all off. He could keep her warm. The idea had merit, melding too well with his every desperate desire. He wanted to take her here on the floor of this damned hut, to make her his, to keep her with him….

Wait, what?

He dragged his mouth free of hers, but she’d tugged his shirt from his trousers and her soft, cold hands slid over his skin. Henry gasped at the shock of it, and not just the temperature of her fingers. He felt branded, his flesh burning for her, wanting, needing to feel her body against his. Christ, he’d not felt this out of control since he was a lad. What the devil was wrong with him? If he didn’t get a grip, he was going to have her and then he’d be honour-bound to marry her. No. No.

Henry stared down at her, struggling to find words to stop this.

“Florence….” he began, his voice ragged. “Florence, we can’t. I must not….”

She looked up at him, her cheeks and throat flushed, her lips red and swollen from his kisses.

“Henry,” she said, a helpless plea. She trembled in his arms, her hands moving over him restlessly as she pressed against him, seeking, wanting. “Please… I’ll run mad….”

Henry heard the desperation in her voice and understood all too well what she was feeling. Though he’d made himself forget, it was too easy to unearth the memories, those days he’d fancied himself in love with Lily, the certainty that he’d lose his mind if he could not be with her, touch her… Christ.

He could not hurt Florence like Lily had hurt him. He needed to put a stop to this. Now.

“Easy, love,” he murmured, pressing her head against his shoulder, and pulling her to him. “This is a mistake.”

He forced the words out, reminding himself that she was not only an innocent, a lady, but his friend’s daughter, for the love of God. He would not be this man, the kind who would take advantage of a young woman’s misguided passion.

“It’s not a mistake,” she said, anger in her voice, though it was muffled against his chest. She looked up and his breath caught at the fierce burn in her green eyes. “I am not a mistake!”

Henry swallowed, reaching out to smooth a damp coil of dark hair from her forehead.

“No,” he said gently. “But I am.”

“No!” she insisted, the stubborn creature.

Henry took hold of her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “Listen to me. There’s some handsome young fellow out there waiting for you, someone as full of enthusiasm and joy as you are, someone who wants a life with you, children, and a home and all the things you deserve, but it’s not me. I don’t want those things. I don’t want a wife.”

She pushed at his chest and Henry released her, taken aback by the anger in her eyes.

“Liar!” she exclaimed, facing him head on. No tears, no tantrums… just a cool fury that refused his placations. “You’re a liar, Henry Stanhope! And, worse than that, you’re a coward.”

Henry jolted as though she’d slapped him. “Now, wait just a moment—”

“I won’t wait, and I won’t listen either. If you didn’t want me, it would be different, but you obviously do. I know you were hurt before and I understand why you’re afraid, but you can’t spend your whole life running away. You came back, Henry. You came back for a reason, so don’t take to your heels just because claiming everything you thought lost means you must take a chance.”