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He should have accepted it from the start.
* * *
There was an urgency and an elegance to his lovemaking Lily had not expected.
A passion and an enthusiasm that had taken her by surprise when, having obviously committed himself, he clearly decided on no half measures. Her breasts were easily laid bare as she wore no chemise or corset beneath her afternoon gown, and now he was kissing them with rapture, stroking and kneading them so that her nipples stood taut, and Lily shivered from head to foot with a rare and barely restrained excitement.
Lord, it had been a long time since her body had felt the attentions of an experienced lover. Not since Teddy had taken what Robert had forsaken had she been this in thrall.
“Oh!” she squeaked when he touched the slick, sensitive nub between her thighs. She’d not expected to be so aroused, and certainly not this early, with so few preliminaries.
Over his shoulder, she could see the glow of the streetlamps through the window, and hear the late afternoon shouts of a newsboy, selling his wares.
Was this what he presumed she was? A woman selling her wares? A flicker of dismay quelled her excitement, but only briefly, for the truth was that she was enjoying Mr McTavish’s ministrations like she’d never enjoyed a man’s attentions.
He groaned, and she shivered with excitement and anticipation to feel him tense as she opened her legs to him, a split second before he drove into her slick entrance.
“Oh, bliss,” she whispered into his ear, holding him tightly as he moved within her, and she matched his movements, feeling the vicarious thrill of bringing him pleasure, and the ratcheting up of her own desire before, with a cry of triumph, he came, withdrawing at the last moment though he held her tightly against his chest as his breathing subsided.
She glanced over at him and saw that his eyes were closed, his jaw clenched, his body stiff. As she shifted, ever so slightly, he raised himself on one elbow to look at her.
She tensed, awaiting his reaction.
But when his features relaxed into the tenderest of smiles, she smiled too, gently pressing her lips to his before she nestled into the crook of his arm.
For a long time, they were silent. Then, staring at the ceiling, he murmured, “That was unexpected.”
Her breath left her in a soft sigh as she whispered, “I don’t think it was,” and his chuckle was instantaneous.
“True,” he agreed, turning to gaze at her. “I’ve been fighting it from the start.”
She cleared her throat and reminded him, with a nervous twitch of her lips, “Not quite the start.”
He blinked as if he didn’t understand before realisation made him say, haltingly, “Now that…this has finally happened between us…I think you should tell me the truth about you.”
The truth.
Yes, the truth was uncomfortable, but he had shown himself a man of honour. All subterfuge had been on her part, and he deserved a full accounting from her.
That is, if she could manage it, for the very utterance of Robert’s name and the many painful indignities he’d inflicted upon her could not be divulged in one cosy, convenient revelatory conversation.
“I was married to a cruel man, and I ran away.” She squeezed shut her eyes, and the wetness ran a crooked path down her cheek before he kissed it away.
Then they were in each other's arms once more; the passion reignited into a flame that would make words redundant until such time as their sensual urges were sated.
With kisses even more loaded with feeling, and bodily senses aquiver, Lily threw herself into their second bout of lovemaking, another surfeit of desire metamorphosing into a crystallisation of awareness that this really was a man worth cleaving to.
Not for what he could do for her in terms of survival through the material necessities of life.
But what he could be for her as their souls seemed to rise and mingle in another dance of intimacy before they became one again, mouths and bodies fused with a final thrust of ownership and openhearted sacrifice.
Yes, Lily was prepared to sacrifice all she had to give—her body, her soul—for a future with this man.
Chapter 16
“Get yerself downstairs, me girl! Newcomers are arrivin’, an’ yer at risk o’ exposin’ everyfink!” Mrs Moore admonished as Lily peeked out of the parlour window when she heard voices outside. A party of three women and one man was advancing purposefully up the front path.
Lily stepped back, stroking the crystal ball on the baize-topped table before heading obediently towards the passage. In front of Mrs Moore’s mystical glass orb, the trapdoor to the floor below would disgorge Lily amidst a burst of swirling mist in about twenty minutes’ time.
