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‘I intend to be.’ He took her hand and led the way down a winding path down the outer bank, a thin dark line in the moonlight. It vanished into a patch of small trees and bushes.
‘How did you know this was here?’
‘Dog chased a rabbit into here the other day when I took him for an early walk on the way to headquarters. I thought then that I would like to make love to you on this soft grass.’ He swirled off his cloak. ‘Does that gown crease easily?’
‘I don’t know!’ She was excited, flustered and, Rose realised with a touch of alarm, aroused by the wicked risk. ‘I’ve never made love in it before.’
She saw the flash of white as he grinned. ‘Let’s try this.’ Adam unbuttoned his falls, let his sword belt drop and knelt down, sinking back on his heels. ‘Just lift your skirts and straddle my thighs.’
It was like an unbearably erotic exercise in deportment, Rose thought wildly as she gathered up her skirts and sank down, trying to concentrate on keeping her balance, not crushing her skirts. Then she forgot all about deportment as their naked flesh met.
‘Slowly,’ Adam murmured as he supported her with his hands at her waist and lowered her down until they were joined. The fabric of his uniform trousers rubbed against the bare skin of her inner thighs above her garters; the faint, musky perfume of their arousal mingled with the honeysuckle scent from the bush behind Adam’s broad shoulders; distantly, from the city, came the sound of music and laughter.
‘Don’t lean forward, you will crush your skirts,’ Adam cautioned. ‘I cannot move more than half an inch.’
‘Then how—?’
‘Squeeze,’ he said. ‘Just…squeeze. Like that—’ He broke off on a gasp.
It was slow, exquisite, frustrating and wildly arousing. Rose caressed him with all the inner muscles she was just learning to control, dug her fingers into the epaulettes on his shoulders, panted with the effort to channel the rising excitement. Adam closed his eyes, rocked her gently, inexorably, pressed and withdrew until he was gasping with the effort of control.
‘Adam, I can’t…’
‘Now,’ he urged. ‘Let go, Rose.’
So she did and felt him let go with her, hold her as they shattered together. When she opened her eyes they were forehead to forehead. ‘I may never move again,’ she whispered.
‘I think we must. Can you reach your reticule and find a handkerchief?’
‘It is still on my wrist,’ Rose said, surprised. ‘I never noticed.’ She found the linen square and stood cautiously, shaking out her skirts.
Adam got to his feet, picked up his cloak, then kissed her, long and slow and tender. ‘I promised to show you the view from the ramparts,’ he said as he raised his head. ‘I hope you were paying attention.’
‘Idiot.’
‘At least I made you laugh.’ He turned and offered his arm. ‘We had best get you home before your father starts loading his shotgun.’
The thought of Papa with a shotgun jerked her back to the realities of their situation. I should not have made love with Adam just now. She was not pregnant, she was almost certain. The shifts in her mood tonight, the slight dizziness, were all familiar symptoms.
He doesn’t even need my money, so I cannot pretend I am making a fair exchange for his freedom. If she could only come up with a reasonable plan for her own future that did not involve marriage, then she was certain she could win her parents round. That might work if she was thirty-three, but not at twenty-three… And persuading Adam that his honour did not require it was another matter altogether. The inevitability of this marriage was beginning to loom larger and, heaven help her, she could not resist it as she ought.
‘That was a big sigh. Are you tired?’
‘No, not really.’ Rose rested her head against his shoulder as they strolled round the corner. ‘More…’
‘Feeling cornered?’
‘Yes, exactly. How do you know?’ He didn’t answer. ‘Of course, so are you.’
‘Is that what you think?’
‘Naturally. You had a whole world of choices before you and only yourself to please. Now you will have a wife to consider. You cannot deny that marriage changes a lot of things.’
‘Perhaps that is good. I find I rather like the idea of children and I most certainly do not intend to father any out of wedlock.’
Oh, unfair! Now she had the image of sturdy little boys with a belligerent attitude and bright blue eyes clambering all over their large, patient father. She was not so sure what the girls would look like. Brown hair certainly. They would adore Adam and he would probably be putty in their hands.
‘I like the idea, too,’ she admitted. Her resolution was crumbling, she could feel it, just as she felt the sincerity of his words.
