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A blinding burst of pleasure jolting from where their mouths joined slid down her skin before wrapping tightly between her thighs. Her hands skimmed up his chest, fingertips attuned to the warmth and strength lying beneath his evening clothes.
“Do you like gingerbread, Theodosia?” he whispered against her mouth before his thumb roved over Theo’s plump lower lip, grazing lightly over her teeth.
She nipped at the pad of his thumb, hearing the small, surprised hitch of his breath at her action.
“Yes.”
* * *
Ambrose hadto stop himself from tossing up Theodosia’s skirts and taking her roughly against the wall of Lady Molsin’s parlor. Which was certain to make the gossip surrounding them that much worse. But herarelyhad a waking thought lately thatdidn’tinvolve bedding her. His desire for Theodosia burned as fierce as the sun, blotting out everythingbuther, managing to shadow even his joy at finally taking his pound of flesh from Murphy. Even the thought that she’d probably already given herself to Blythe or possibly someone else didn’t ease his hunger for her.
His thoughts flew to the miniature tucked safely in his pocket.
I would forgive her anything.
Ambrose broke away from her lips, jealousy and the tangle of complicated feelings he had for Theodosia spiraling out like a vine along his chest and limbs. He refused to admit to anything beyond liking her and plain lust.
Theodosia was a desirable means to a desired end.
But it was a lie, and Ambrose knew it. It became more obvious every day.
“Haven?”
“Ambrose,” he said quietly, gently uncurling her fingers from his coat. “My Christian name. I would like you to use it.” He struggled under the weight of his growing attachment to this lovely creature because shemeantsomething to him, and she had from the second he’d seen her.
And then he’d set out to use her. It did not matter that he hadn’t planned what happened at Blythe’s; his heart had been filled with the intent.
“You should return.” He gently pulled her fingers from his coat, afraid if they stayed here a moment longer, he would compromise her again, this time completely. Either that or he would confess everything.
“Yes,” she choked, voice filled with embarrassment at what she likely perceived as his rejection.
It pained Ambrose to have her think such a thing, but still, he let Theodosia slide away from him. He needed to think—impossible with Theodosia so near.
“I’ll join you shortly,” he said, the words dismissive and far colder than he’d intended. He could practically hear the stiffening of her spine as he imagined her chin tilting mulishly in his direction. Theodosia and her sisters all possessed the same fire of defiance, the assertion that no one should dictate to them. Ambrose spared a tiny bit of pity for the Duke of Averell managing a household of such opinionated, forthright women.
“Ambrose.”
His heart thumped hard. Must she say his name...with such promise?
“Go.” Ambrose nudged her in the direction of the door.
He stayed silent until a sliver of light broke through the darkness of the parlor as she opened the door to the hall outside. The rustle of skirts met his ears before the door shut again and Theodosia was gone.
