Page 76 of Forgotten No More

“You may go,” she said at last, her voice awkward and strained.

“Why ever would I do that?” he said. “If you need to rest, of course, I understand. But I am fine here. Happy to talk, to stay with you, for as long as you’ll have me.”

The words held a weightier implication than she’d known, she suddenly realized. She thought back to the times they had spent together, the conversations they’d had. The many times he had saved her, both from herself and the dangers that abounded in her quest. Those gestures bespoke a man whose devotion truly knew no bounds.

Harold had offered her a home, with him—not a location, but a heart.

And she hadn’t realized it.

Hadn’t known enough to recognize that where a person belongs isn’t a place. To know that love truly existed, beyond one person using another for their own gain.

And who a person is doesn’t hinge on a name or a parent’s lineage.

Home is where the people she loved resided—and right now, that place was London. Ellie and Vi—both sisters of her heart—were here. She loved them both and they loved her, in their own ways.

“You must be tired as well,” she whispered. “I truly have no right to keep you.”

“I can think of not another place I’d rather be at this time or any other.”

Harold was here, and she suddenly knew he loved her. He’d proved it time after time, even though she hadn’t seen it. He’d blamed it on his penchant for saving damsels in distress, but she knew she was the only damsel he ever sought to save—and at the expense of his own future.

Something in her eyes must have told him as much. He pulled her close and set his lips upon hers. It was everything she wanted, while everything she never could hope to have. His lips pressed against hers, coaxing them apart. Not demanding, but far from gentle. Her arms moved to his shoulders, broad and thick compared to his slender frame. She was startled to realize that her body remembered his, craved his contact.

As she wrapped her arms around his neck, it was her lips that became more insistent and demanding. Suddenly her clothes felt binding, more restrictive than they ever had before. His neckcloth rubbed against her chin as their mouths moved together.

She pulled away. Keeping her eyes on his, she tentatively reached for the intricately tied cravat. Her fingers grasped the heavily starched material and tugged.

Harold let out his breath on a sigh when the cloth loosened.

Gradually, Ruby unwound it from his neck. The last bit fell away with a slight pull. The cloth felt just as he did; sturdy and firm, yet yielding to her.

They both watched the length of material fall to the floor before their eyes met once more.

Her breath hitched, lodged in her lungs, afraid to break the spell of the moment with the simplest sigh.

Harold placed his hands upon her hips and gently caressed, trailing his fingers up the side of her bodice.

She could not take it anymore and her breath left her. She wanted…she needed…she hadn’t a clue, but she did know she didn’t want him to release her. She would be bereft without his touch.

As if he’d read her thoughts, he lowered his lips to hers once more, and his arms wrapped around her waist. He lifted her ever so slightly and stepped the few paces to the chaise lounge. With reverence and care, he laid her on the soft chaise and brought his body to cover hers. His weight settled on her, less constricting than her clothes had felt moments before.

Their bodies molded together with ease, his leg gently nudging between hers. Her knees shifted to accommodate him. All the while, their lips never separated.

She lifted her hips to meet his as she opened her mouth to allow his tongue to explore. Not to be outdone, she pushed into his mouth, her tongue timidly grazing his teeth before retreating to sample his lips.

Harold fairly growled as her tongue swept across his lower lip. He wanted nothing more than to rip her elegant dress from her alluring body. He endeavored to hold back, to move slowly, at a pace she was comfortable with, giving her every opportunity to pull away or draw back.

Yet, Ruby didn’t—she only pulled him closer.

Her hips pressed into his, driving him closer to the edge with each small movement. She seemed unaware how close he was to throwing caution to the wind and relieving her of her garments here, in the salon of their host and hostess.

His breeches became tighter as his shaft hardened at the thought. Her gown would slip easily from her shoulders. To prove the point, he brushed his hand against the silky material and it slid easily down her arm to reveal a corset of the same color beneath. He drew back and ran his fingers down the whale bone stitching in front that disappeared into the gathered silk at her waist.

A knock sounded upon the closed door.

As if nothing untoward had been very close to happening, Harold reluctantly pulled Ruby’s dress back into place, savoring the feel of the fabric as it settled.

“I will be right there,” he called, in hopes of stalling whoever sought to intrude.