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The gentleman raised an eyebrow at his nonchalance. “Yes. You seemed to have your hands full.”
Sylvia let out a muffled laugh, and Rafe patted the back of her neck. “Something like that.”
Templeton continued to stand in the doorway, though he couldn’t manage to stop swaying.
“I trust you have found awillingparticipant?”
“About as willing as they come.” Rafe then let out a soft yelp as Sylvia pinched his side.
“All right, then.” Templeton sounded amused as he moved away. “Carry on.”
Good. He bought it.
Rafe turned back to Sylvia, who was giving him an arch look. “What?” he whispered. “Shall I tell him you’re not?”
She rolled her eyes and moved to push him away, but Rafe held up a hand.
He hadn’t heard the man’s departing footsteps. “I think he’s still in the hall.”
Sylvia frowned. “But why?”
“Maybe he wants to listen.”Or watch.
Templeton would hardly be the first person with such proclivities.
He could see her cheeks flush even in the dim room. “What are we going to do?”
Rafe nuzzled her neck, his blood still buzzing. “The same thing we were doing before, if you’d like.”
Her breath caught. She had to feel the same rush of excitement as he did, knowing how very close they had come to danger only to escape by their own force of will.
“You aren’t going to get shy on me now,” he teased, shamelessly baiting her.
The corner of her mouth turned up. Before he could say more, she pulled his mouth down to hers, kissing him with a renewed enthusiasm that set him on fire.
“My God,” he panted, breaking the kiss as he rolled his hips against her. “I wish you were wearing those delectable trousers again.”
“Me too. Then I might be able to feel something.”
Rafe snorted and leaned closer. “Is that a challenge, Miss Sparrow?”
She answered with a wicked little smile, and Rafe began to push up handfuls of her sturdy wool skirt. “You know, much as I enjoy the utility of your wardrobe, I’d love to see you in something lighter, say, silk.”
She laughed. “Mrs. Crawford is a generous employer, but she doesn’t pay me quitethatmuch.”
That won’t matter anymore.
For whatever else happened tonight, this would not be goodbye. He would protect her with everything he had. No matter the cost.
Rafe pressed his hard length between her thighs, driven by a sudden desire that felt alarmingly close to possession. He wanted to take care of her. To wrap her in the finest silks. To ensure she could spend her days doing whatever she wished, not painstakingly recording the bygone pastimes of an old woman. But he kept these thoughts to himself. Sylvia hitched her leg against his hip. “Again.” Rafe repeated the motion, the friction already fraying his self-control.
“Rafe,” she breathed. The word was barely louder than a whisper. But it tore through him. It was the sound of aching need. Of surrender. “I want you.” Her hand had already drifted toward his waist.
Based on the way Rafe strained toward her, maybe he wasn’t the possessor after all. “Christ, Sylvia,” he groaned. “You’re going to kill me.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Not a bad way to go, I imagine.”
And like hell would he miss a chance to be with her.
