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She’d merely pushed back harder.
He also believed with absolute certainty that her interest in shielding her friends—or family, rather—wasn’t rooted in self-preservation or mercenary ambition. She truly was willing to give up everything to protect them. Such loyalty was both commendable and dangerous.
Not loyalty—love. She loved them. Fiercely. And he knew they loved her. He’d seen firsthand the genuine affection in their eyes when they looked at her—all of them, including Lady Harrow. Their love hadn’t been bought. It had been earned through merit and sacrifice.
“No,” he finally answered. “I won’t judge you. In your place, I would likely have done the same.”
Her shoulders dropped in evident relief, and suddenly he realized they were both still quite naked. The instant his gaze fell to her bare breasts, she apparently realized it, too. He fought back laughter as she snatched up a pillow and covered herself with it, her face turning beet red.
“I think by now we must be past the point of modesty, you and I,” he drawled, deliberately stretching.
Her gaze had fixed on something just above his head. “Yes, of course,” she mumbled, still clutching the pillow. “But in light of—”
“This changes nothing, you know,” he said over whatever excuse she’d been about to toss his way. “I still won the wager. And the night is still quite young.”
She flinched, her gaze lowering to meet his. “You still want me? Even after…?”
Especially after. The internal confession was more than a little shocking. When he looked at her, an odd mixture of emotions rose to the surface. Some he identified, like admiration, lust, and longing, but there were many others which he couldn’t or didn’t want to pin down. The chaos within quite frankly terrified him.
One thing he did know for certain was that his desire for her hadn’t diminished one whit. “Of course I still want you. And there is also the matter of that first impression I spoke of. I made a terrible one.”
“The fault for that is mine,” she said softly. “I let you believe I was something I’m not.”
“But you are,” he insisted, reaching out to take one of her hands. “You’re amazing, Diana.” He let out a laugh and brought her hand up to kiss her palm. “At one point, I actually contemplated kissing Harrow in gratitude for training you so well.”
It elicited the smile he’d been looking for. “I won’t tell him—I don’t wish to put ideas into his head.” She sobered. “Please promise you’ll keep our secret?”
“Of course I will,” he vowed without hesitation. “Even if it means people start calling me a molly.” Brave words, but for her sake, he’d suffer it—and then run the offender through for saying such a thing. Harrow had been doing it for years.
And what of my parents? He pushed aside his conscience’s unwelcome intrusion. “I accepted the consequences of coming here tonight in full knowledge of what they might entail.” Scooting closer, he took a corner of the pillow she held, but didn’t attempt to pull it back. “As did you,” he added very softly.
After a moment, she let the pillow go and he set it aside. Holding out his hand, he waited. When she put her fingers in his palm, he pulled her toward him and just held her, reveling in the trust granted him.
The desire that had been snuffed by the shock of learning the truth flared back to life. But it was nowhere near as urgent as before. He ran his palms up and down her long back, warming skin that had grown cool. “Do you still wish to taste of passion with me?” he murmured at her ear.
Her whispered “yes” was accompanied by a little shiver he felt run through her as he held her close. She was the most physically responsive woman he’d ever known. Burying his nose in the tumble of caramel locks that had fallen over one shoulder, he kissed the curve of her neck and felt another tremor. “Then tell me what you want me to do, Diana.”
Chapter Sixteen
Diana had expected there would be pain the first time. She hadn’t been wrong. But it had been short-lived. Blackthorn—Lucas—was a skilled lover, and he soon made her forget any discomfort. With surprising tenderness, she was again brought to the height of frustration and then the lofty peak of ecstasy. Because of his diligent preparation, the ache of stretching around his girth for the second time had been exquisite rather than excruciating.
The soreness between her legs as she stretched them out in the warm water of her tub was already easing away. A little groan of relief fought its way from her throat as she shifted.
Lucas, who was soaking in a second tub which had been placed beside hers, shot her a knowing grin. “I think your servants have been scandalized tonight. First by all the noise we made, and again when they brought the water in and witnessed the wreckage.”
“They are accustomed to such things here,” she said, in fact not at all concerned with what they thought. “But I imagine they will be a bit surprised when they have to come again in the morning with a second bath.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You intend us to make love again before morning?”
“You don’t?” She waited until after he stopped chuckling before broaching a sensitive issue. It was going to come up anyway. Better to address it now while he was relaxed than in the morning when his mood might be altered. “I don’t know what your plans are concerning us, but I do know I’m not opposed to doing this again. On another night, I mean,” she amended, lest he misunderstand.
His gray eyes held hers, their expression open and frank. “I want that, too—only I want it every night.”
The breath stilled in her lungs, and a pain blossomed in her chest briefly before she quashed it. He wasn’t asking her that, of course. Even if he was, the answer must be no. “I cannot leave him. I cannot leave them,” she corrected.
“Why not? It’s not as if Harrow cannot find another to do for him what you do now. He found you, after all.”
“Perhaps he could find another to take my place, but that would require time.” And what if she’s not as trustworthy or loyal? She didn’t voice the question aloud. He wouldn’t understand. “It took a great investment of time to shape me into what I am now, and I promised him five years.”
