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His thumb brushed against the sensitive nub hidden in her folds.
Goodness.She really adored his thumb. “You are merely attempting to prove a point, as any elderly rogue would do.” The statement had little weight, considering she was moaning as she voiced her opinion.
“Don’t look away from me, Rosalind.” Torrington’s fingers stopped moving until her eyes once more focused on his. “Maybe flutter your free hand past the tree so your maid thinks we are having a lively discussion.” Another finger thrust inside her and she arched against the sensation. “I’ve such plans for your mouth, Rosalind.”
“Oh.” Hiscockin her mouth. The thought sent a ripple over her skin. “This is unfair.” Deliberately, she ran her tongue along her bottom lip.
A predatory sound left Torrington. “You would have made a splendid courtesan, Rosalind. The slightest touch from me and you climax. I’ve never seen anything like it. Do you want ours to be a marriage of convenience?”
A whimper left her as his fingers found a particularly sensitive spot. “No,” she stuttered. Her body felt honed to a fine point. Sharp. Exact. The very idea of Torrington with another woman was revolting. “I won’t share you.” The words clawed out of her, her heart shying away from the admission.
Torrington’s thumb pressed down, stealing her breath and nearly every thought in her head. Bliss twisted up her spine, so intense, her hips bucked. His other hand, palm splayed against her stomach, held her in place as she climaxed, his eyes never leaving hers.
Rosalind was lost. Completely.
“Bram.” Soft, demanding lips claimed hers. She no longer cared if anyone besides the birds above her head witnessed what was happening. Her eyes fluttered closed as his fingers coaxed the last bit of pleasure from her, leaving Rosalind shaken and grabbing at the tree for support.
Gently, he pulled her skirts from her clenched fingers and let them fall to the ground.
Rosalind turned from him, letting the trunk of the tree scrape against her cheek, still feeling the gentle throb of her body. The feel of his fingers inside her. How much more would she long for Torrington after they were wed?
Torrington tried to take her hand, and she jerked away.
A grunt of frustration came from him. “Look on the bright side, Rosalind,” he said casually. “As you often remind me, I’m many years your senior. You’ll likely be a young widow.”
Stop. Stop. Stop.Rosalind’s hand clawed at the tree.
“The males in my family are never long-lived. Take that to heart. Maybe it will make wedding me more palatable.” The words were clipped. Chilly. So unlike Torrington’s usual teasing.
“I thought we were friends—”
Torrington’s lips twitched. “You never thought we wereonlyfriends. Nor is this about a tart recipe. Or your ambitions—which I would want you to have. This is about what we feel for each other, Rosalind. And nothing else.”
She cleared her throat, refusing to acknowledge his statement, but neither could she deny it was true. “No, it is only I refuse to be a brood mare—”
“My God, Rosalind.” His voice thundered in the quiet morning air. “Do youhearyourself? The same words over and over as if they were a bloody prayer to banish me.Thisis why I didn’t tell you. Why I wouldn’t allow your mother and my sister to inform everyone in London. Your objections are invalid. So completely untrue each time I hear them, I wonder if you’ve lost your mind. We are right for each other in every way that matters.”
Rosalind bit her lip and looked down at her feet. “No, we are not.”
“Christ.” The word thundered out of him, scattering the birds in the tree above them. “I’m not sure what it is you are afraid of, Rosalind.” His voice grew rough. “But I am tired of it beingme.”
Torrington paced back and forth, his coat flapping angrily with every step. “I have never”—the smoke in his voice broke apart as he paused and looked at her—“wantedanythinghalf as much as you.” He came to stand mere inches from her. “I desire you above all else.”
She heard the truth in his words, though part of her turned away from it.
“I do not find this to be easy. Or amusing. I’ve spent far more time avoiding marriage than you have. I vowed never to wed again. It doesn’t even matter to me if I produce an heir. But you—” His voice faltered, and one hand pressed over his heart. His eyes fluttered closed, dark lashes fanning over his cheeks. “I must haveyou,” he said in a pained whisper. “I could have made this so much easier. Just ruined you. Forced you. But I had hoped—”
Torrington took a step away from her, his eyes opening to fix on the path beside them and the river. “You’ll be my wife, no matter how much you abhor it.”
“Bram—” Rosalind wiped a tear from her cheek, his admission threatening to undo her. Her heart ached painfully, the ever-present knot, tightening around her entire chest.
He shook his head, declining to look at her. “Good morning, Rosalind.” Then he turned and moved down the path in the opposite direction.
Away from her.
