Page 52 of An Enchanting Dare

He made a choked sound and adjusted her hold on him. “All right, but it won’t take long,” he warned her, showing her how to stroke him.

“Like this?” she queried, a little clumsy at first, not that his body gave a damn.

She was touching him and, right now, that was all he needed. He closed his eyes, braced on his arms over her, trembling as he let go of the reins of desire he’d held onto so tightly. Her free hand stroked his flank, moved up over his belly to his chest where she toyed with his nipple, pinching lightly. That was all it took. His chest heaved, and a muted roar tore from his throat as the pleasure cascaded through him. He could do nothing but let it come, his body convulsing as her small hand possessed him, commanded him, and he spilled his seed in a hot splash across her stomach.

He tried to bring himself under control, to focus on her and assure himself she was not upset or disgusted by what had happened. When she finally came into focus, she was regarding him with a smug cat-in-the-cream-pot smile that put any nonsense of that sort to rest.

He collapsed beside her, utterly spent.

“I’ll fetch you my handkerchief,” he murmured. “In just a moment. Just… need a second.”

She snorted and shook her head. “I can see to it.”

He felt her get up and a moment later she returned to him, and he gathered her in his arms, holding her tight. She snuggled in close and the idea that he might never have this again made him want to howl with misery. He toyed with the idea of telling her parents he’d compromised her, but knew he wouldn’t do it. Shaming her like that after everything she’d been through was beyond him, and besides, he could not bear for her parents to believe him a fortune hunter.

“We must return to the ballroom,” she said, though he was relieved to hear the regret in her voice.

“Yes.”

“I saved you the last waltz.”

He perked up at that, propping himself up on one arm to look down at her.

“You did?”

She nodded, and he grinned at her. To his surprise, she reached up and traced the contours of his mouth, her expression so tender his throat grew tight.

“Handsome devil,” she whispered.

“Aisling.” He stared down at her, knowing he ought not to say it, not when he had no right to, but the words burst out all the same and he could do nothing to stop them. “I love you.”

Her expression was one of surprise, and then her eyes grew misty, and her lip trembled.

“Oh, no, don’t,” he began helplessly. “Don’t cry, Aisling. I—”

She gave a hiccoughing laugh and flung herself at him, holding on tight and peppering kisses over his face. Well, that seemed like a good sign, so he did not press her to return the words. She’d had emotions enough to sort through this evening without him demanding declarations of her. He was with her. She had trusted him with her secrets, with her body, and she wanted to wait for him. Aisling Baxter wanted to marry no other man but him, and if that wasn’t a declaration, he didn’t know what was. He gave her one last kiss and regretfully disentangled himself from her arms.

“Come on, my love. If we’re to be in attendance for the last waltz, we need to be dressed or people might talk.”

She gave a snort of laughter. “Ridiculous creature,” she muttered, but with affection now, and he grinned at her.

“I suspect it’s going to take longer to get you back into all those petticoats than it did to get you out of them, so get a move on.”

“Yes, Sylvester,” she said sweetly, rolling her eyes at him, and Sylvester decided this prickly, gentle, complicated, wonderful woman was the most perfect girl in the entire world, and he would do anything, anything at all to make her his.

Chapter 18

Pike,

Send for Dr Langley. Show him the card I gave you and tell him to send me any bills. With luck, I’ll be with you before you get this, but I’m on my way. Tell Burt I’m coming as fast as I can.

― Excerpt of a letter from The Hon’ble Maxwell Drake, Earl of Vane to Master Pike.

1st July 1841, Chessett House, Warwickshire.

“Must you go?” Barnaby demanded, wincing a little in the bright sunlight pouring through the windows of the breakfast room.

Maxwell nodded, accepting a cup of coffee from his footman. “I must, yes. A friend has been taken ill. Someone I owe a great debt to. I must return to London at once, but you may stay as my guests as long as you wish. My people will look after you.”