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“Good Lord, Phoebe, what’s this?” he asked in some alarm, but she stopped his questions with a kiss.
“I don’t care what anyone thinks. I’ve missed you so much!” she cried when he broke away, staring down at her with some bemusement.
A slow, spreading smile transformed his face. “Did you really, Phoebe?”
“Yes, really. And not because you’ve bought me a new wardrobe, but because you do something to me here.” She tapped her heart and took his arm, happily allowing him to lead her into the house. What did she care for appearances? Right now, her heart was filled with the simple pleasure of being once again in the company of the man who made her feel safe and loved. She wasn’t going to dwell on her recent fright, and nor was she going to worry about what she must do for her own survival.
Hugh felt for her as she’d always wanted a man to feel for her. She could see it in his smile and the gentle way he cupped her cheek while he dipped his head to kiss her once more on the lips, this time gently but with great feeling, before they disappeared indoors.
Soon he would take her away from here
, to the anonymity of the city where she’d be safe. One day, when the time was right, she’d reveal who she really was.
And then, possibly, he might make her his wife. It’s what she wanted above all.
In the parlor, she looked inquiringly at him. “And where is your sister?”
A shadow crossed his face, and he took her hand. “Ada should not have come here. She ran away from her aunt’s without a word, though I didn’t know it.”
“You’ve taken her back?”
“I’d never force her to remain with Aunt Belcher when she was so unhappy there.” He smiled and put his finger to Phoebe’s lips, tracing the curve with a look of bemusement. “By God but you’re beautiful, Phoebe,” he murmured. “There’s another reason I was so eager to be rid of my sister, beloved though she is to me.”
“And what might that be, sir?” Phoebe asked archly, though she knew the reason well enough, and her body was already melting at the thought of being in Hugh’s arms and feeling his warm, naked body against hers.
And then she remembered the risks of bringing a bastard into the world, and her breath froze in her throat.
“What is it, Phoebe?”
She was surprised he was so observant. She tossed her head. “Nothing of any account. I think I heard Mrs Withins, that’s all.”
“You certainly don’t like the woman, do you?”
“Not as much as she dislikes me.”
“You’d like to be away from this place I take it.”
“I would indeed! Far, far away! I can’t wait to get to London.”
“You know I’ll look after you.” He grasped her hands and brought her knuckles up to his lips. “You know you’re safe with me. I shan’t let anything happen to you, my love. Upon my honor, I swear it with my last breath.”
She was astonished at his sudden fervor. No man had ever spoken to her of love and of putting her wellbeing to any amount of inconvenience.
“Will you, sir?”
“Hugh. Please call me Hugh. We’re…lovers, Phoebe. Do you know what that means? You’re mine, and I’m yours. I’ve never taken a mistress; I’ve never taken a lover. Never wanted to before I met you. I promise you that if you’re not happy with the house I lease for you, I’ll find you another. I want you to be happy, Phoebe.”
He was leading her into the corridor as he spoke but now, instead of parting at the stairs, she to return to her servant’s attic and him to his own quarters, he kept hold of her hand as he drew her toward his own chamber.
“No need to look so concerned.” He grinned, loosening his cravat and unbuttoning his waistcoat as he put his hand on the doorknob. “The servants are two levels below us. Besides, they’re very well aware of the state of affairs between us, and in a week, what will it matter to anyone but ourselves? We’ll be in London, and you’ll be ensconced in your own lover’s bower. Why, look what you’ve done to me at the mere thought?”
The door was already closed behind them, and Hugh’s breeches were off, his rampant manhood springing proudly free before them.
She looked from him, now almost naked, to the bed, and her body throbbed with desire. But acting on desire was a dire risk. No, she couldn’t afford to conceive now. Her future was too uncertain.
“Yes, a real bed, my sweeting,” he growled, sweeping her into his arms and depositing her on the mattress. “How’s that for comfort?” His face was inches from hers as he caged her with his body. She could smell the fresh sweat from his recent ride overlaying the faint smell of sandalwood and leather.
Slowly, she raised her hand and traced the lines of his sinewy arms, trailing down his chest with her forefinger. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, but she could tell he was enjoying it.
