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He was very soundly asleep, lying on his side facing her, his right arm thrown over her waist. She liked the feeling of it, the sense of being claimed and held, but she wanted to touch him. She wanted, she admitted, to kiss him. Was it possible without waking him?
Cautiously she began to turn within the curve of his arm, sensing new things as she became wider awake. She was more conscious of the scent of him: clean, hot male. One shoulder was visible above the blanket, protruding bare from his shirt. There were old bruises on it and fresh scrapes, bringing vividly to mind the way she had scrambled and clutched at him as she had struggled to free the chain in the dungeon.
Then she was over, almost nose to nose with him. His lashes were long, even darker than his beard. There was a small, sickle-shaped scar just below his right eyebrow. He did have freckles after all, she realised, they just didn’t show as much as hers because his skin was lightly tanned. My love.
Could she? Dare she? Elinor leaned in, her lips close to his so that they were breathing the same air, so close she could feel the heat of his skin warming her. Only half an inch more. She puckered her lips and he moved, just enough to bring their mouths together.
Was he awake? His eyes were still shut. Elinor held her breath, her lips against his, then he shifted his weight over her and kissed her properly, an open-mouthed, utterly sexual caress. His tongue thrust and claimed and explored, demanding she respond, and she followed, unafraid of anything, but not matching what he wanted. Wide-eyed, she held her gaze on his face, but his eyes were still closed. His weight on her was troubling and exciting, both at once. She wanted to struggle simply to feel his strength holding her, but she kept still, sensing that he was not fully awake.
It probably meant he did not know who he was kissing. Perhaps he was deeply asleep and thought she was someone else. Was he dreaming of the woman he loved hopelessly, the reason he would not marry? Or Ana? It should have made a difference to how this felt, the rational part of her brain tried to say, but her body was taking not the slightest bit of notice.
Theo’s hands came up to cup her face, to hold her still as he plundered her mouth. Pinned under him, she could feel his erection, thrillingly, terrifyingly large. Her own body was on fire now, melting, twisting, aching. Between her thighs she felt the moisture, understood hazily what it was preparing her for. All she knew was that she needed his hands on her, his body possessing her.
He was not fully conscious, she was sure of that now. Was this the second chance, the opportunity to experience a man’s loving after her brush with death? If she was careful, did not speak, he might make love to her without even realising. Without knowing it is me. No.
No, that was not how she wanted to be loved by Theo and it was wrong. It would be using him, just as shockingly as if he had seduced her while she lay asleep and unknowing.
Elinor turned her head away from the seeking mouth and pushed at his shoulders, her hands meeting linen on one side, bare flesh on the other. He grumbled, low in his throat, like a big dog whose bone has been taken away, and she smiled despite herself.
‘Theo, Theo, wake up.’
His eyes opened full on her face and she saw him go white, watched as the colour literally drained from under his skin as realisation struck him. ‘Nell. Nell, what the hell have I done?’ He threw himself away from her, hurling back the covers, and sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders bent, his back to her.
‘Nothing,’ she said prosaically. ‘You just kissed me, that’s all. It was very nice, but I thought I ought to wake you up because you obviously didn’t know who I was—’
‘That’s flattering for you, isn’t it?’ he said, back still turned, voice bitter.
Lord, he is going to start blaming himself for this. I can hardly tell him nothing would have happened if I hadn’t tried to kiss him myself. ‘Theo, look, it is not as though we had made love last night, is it? I mean,’ she persisted, despite the fact that the back of his neck was becoming decidedly pink and her tongue was getting in a tangle, ‘if that had been the case, obviously I would have been insulted you didn’t remember who you were in bed with. But you were only in bed with me because I was frightened and it worked, I had a wonderful night’s sleep.’
‘Good. No dreams?’ He sounded slightly happier now. She wished he would turn round, then remembered what little he must be wearing and how his aroused body had felt against hers. Better to get out of the situation as smoothly as possible.
‘No dreams. What happened a moment ago, that was just, um, a reflex, I expect. I really don’t think of it as anything else.’ She turned over and pulled the covers up around her ears. ‘I’ll be lazy for a little longer while you go back to your own room. Could you ring for water?’
‘Right.’ She waited until the door closed, then sat up, arms round her knees, chin resting on top. It was a comfortable thinking position and she needed, above all, to think. Her body felt alarmingly alive, achingly unfulfilled. It was obvious that making love was pleasurable, otherwise people would not do it. But there was more to it than she had realised. It was as though Theo had been taking her body on a journey, but they never got there and that left a deep yearning for completion. Making love was apprently not like having a delicious meal where, provided one was not starving, one could stop after one course, having enjoyed a satisfactory experience. One needed to eat all the courses, or whatever the sexual equivalent was.
Her plait was tangled in the neck of her overlarge nightgown and she pulled it out, nibbling the very tip in a manner that would have earned her a severe telling-off from her governess, who had cured her of that childish habit years ago. Obviously it was perfectly possible to go through life without experiencing physical love, it was just that it was becoming very clear to her that she did not want to.
A few weeks ago she could have gone through life, aware she was missing something, quite happily. But now she knew Theo, knew she loved him, she did not want that ignorance. She wanted to know what it was she would never have.
Men, it seemed, were quite happy to make love to women they didn’t love. So were some women—Ana, for example—but she had gathered that it was a very different emotional experience for the two sexes. So Theo might not be exactly appalled if she asked him. He might not guess her real reasons if he thought he had simply physically aroused her. After all, he had kissed her in the old quarry to answer her curiosity…
‘Just the once.’
‘Madame?’ The chambermaid stood in the doorway with a steaming jug of hot water. ‘I did knock, madame, but monsieur said to take the water in.’
‘Yes, thank you. Has monsieur ordered breakfast?’ Elinor smiled at the assurance it was all in hand and went back to brooding.
But how to persuade him when he was fully awake and aware of what he was doing? And persuade him without him guessing why she wanted him. Would he accept that it was intellectual curiosity? Not that that was very flattering to him. She would just have to play it by ear when the opportunity arose.
Breakfast was substantial. Elinor could not decide whether Theo was simply hungry or finding an excuse not to speak to her. His single-minded demolition of steak allowed her to study her emotions with a mind somewhat cleared by two cups of coffee.
She loved Theo. She was not just in love with him, although she had not realised that these were two separate things until she experienced them both. He loved someone else, she was certain, someone perhaps from long ago. Certainly someone unobtainable. Despite that impetuous declaration on the hilltop, he obviously did not wish to marry her. Not when he was thinking clearly. He might want a companion, perhaps, but that was all.
So whatever she did, she must not allow him to feel trapped. Elinor poured two more cups of coffee and pushed one over to Theo, then began to butter a slice of bread before realising she already had a neat stack of three pieces sitting on the plate. Theo accepted two of them with a nod of thanks and addressed himself to his food again while she spread preserves on the remainder.
And becoming pregnant would certainly trap him. But there were ways to make love without that happening, she was certain. She had heard whispers. Bel had been Ashe’s lover for some time before their marriage and Bel was not a reckless woman. At least, she had not been until she fell in love. Theo would know.
‘What are you brooding about?’ he asked so suddenly she dropped her bread. ‘You look as though you have a knotty problem in translation to puzzle through.’
