Page 50 of An Enchanting Dare

“You? A grownup?” She burst out laughing, aggravating him so much it was a moment before he realised she’d pulled his shirt from his trousers. The feel of her warm hands on his skin made the point for him and he sucked in a breath.

“Christ!” he exclaimed. “Behave, Aisling! You don’t know what you’re doing to me!”

“Oh, I think I do,” she said, laughing at his consternation. “I’ve long understood the mechanics of it. I just don’t know how to get any pleasure from it, though I admit I’m enjoying this enormously.”

He stilled then, staring down at her with his heart aching. Her first experience of physical pleasure had been anything but. It had been cruel and painful, and she was asking him to replace that memory with a new one. How could he deny her that? He knew how to bring her pleasure without fully consummating their relationship or risking a child.

“You truly want this?” he asked, studying her face.

She nodded, smiling up at him and he wondered how in God’s name he could walk away from this, from her. He realised then why he was so reluctant to be intimate with her. It wasn’t only a stubborn streak of decency, though he wanted to treat her with the respect she had always deserved. It was because he risked what little remained of his heart. If he did this, she would own him body and soul, for he could not give her what she asked without sharing his own heart with her. It would doom him to spend his days loving a woman he could never call his own, and yet he suspected it was already too late, so what difference would it make? He might as well have this much. But he would be honest with her first.

He cupped her face between his hands, staring down at her.

“Aisling,” he said, his voice not entirely steady as his nerves leapt and his heart trembled at the idea of making himself vulnerable to her. “I want this, I want you, more than you can know. My God, love, you’re so beautiful it’s sometimes hard to breathe when you’re close to me. I am in awe of your strength, of the courage with which you have endured the past years when you’ve been so frightened, and so alone. If I could, I would offer you the world, but I’ve not the world to give, love. I’m that despicable variety of gentleman who must earn his keep. I’ve no money, no home to offer you and even if I had both, I’m still far beneath your notice. You could marry an earl or a marquess, even a duke, and I—”

“Sylvester, what the devil are you on about?” she broke in, glaring at him. “I don’t want a duke or a marquess or anything of the sort. I never have. I want you—and you’re giving speeches. Now?”

She looked so outraged he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Yes, love, because I can’t stay. I can’t offer for you as I should, as I want to do, and I don’t want to be another man in your life who took something precious and then left you alone.”

Her expression was fierce, but he could see beneath the bravado, see the too bright glitter in her eyes.

“Then don’t,” she said, her voice hard. Her fingers tightened on his shirt, holding tight. “Don’t go. Hold on to me.”

He shook his head. Usually he loved arguing with her, relished watching her eyes flash and the colour flame in cheeks as her temper rose, but he did not want to argue this point. This time, he had no choice. “How can I?” he whispered, stroking her cheek. “Your father would laugh in my face if I dared offer for you.”

Aisling shook her head. “He wouldn’t. Not if he knew, not if—”

“Love,” Sylvester grasped her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “Be sensible.”

Her stubborn chin jutted, and he recognised the mutinous glint in her eyes all too well. “Fine. But I shan’t marry anyone else.”

His stupid heart leapt at her words, and he gave a shaky laugh. “I can’t ask that of you.”

She glowered at him. “You didn’t ask. I told you. You’re the one I want. I won’t have anyone else,” she retorted, cantankerous as ever.

“So you did,” he whispered, hardly daring to believe it. “Would you wait for me?” he asked, knowing he was likely only setting them both up for worse heartbreak in months to come, but she was wonderfully stubborn and he… he wanted her so badly he couldn’t think straight.

“Yes,” she whispered, her expression softening, her dark eyes glowing with happiness. “Yes, I would wait.”

“I cannot make you promises this time. It’s probably a forlorn hope,” he warned her. “I am working hard to help my brother turn Marcross around and make it profitable, but… but I’ll only ever be an estate manager, love. I’ve no rich relations to pin my hopes on. I’ll never have a title….”

“Sylvester,” she said, a note of impatience ringing in her voice. “Shut up and kiss me.”

He couldn’t fight it any longer. She was warm and willing and in his arms, and he wanted her with everything he had. He always had. Sylvester had wanted her from the first moment he’d seen her step out of the carriage eighteen months ago at Rowsley Hall. He’d known it then and had only been deceiving himself in the following months, pretending he wanted only to know what she was hiding. Well, now he knew, and wanting had become loving and needing and he was in a sorry state, and that was a fact.

“Lock the door,” he said, his voice rough, for if he was to do this, he was damned if there would be any interruptions.

For once in her life, she obeyed him without question, and Sylvester shrugged out of his coat and waistcoat. She turned, leaning against the locked door, watching as he tugged his shirt over his head and cast it aside.

“You’re sure?”

She nodded, her gaze travelling over him like a caress. His body tightened in reaction, his cock pulsing, impatient for her touch.

“Come here.”

He almost smiled as she obeyed his command without a murmur of dissent, but then her hands slid over his bare chest and her touch was electrifying. Sylvester wrapped his arms around her and claimed her mouth, triumph surging through him as she pressed closer. Her hands glided up and down his back, sending shivers of pleasure cascading over his skin, and he needed to touch her. Now.