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Arthur heard her inhale, and the clatter of her teacup being set down broke the terse silence that followed. “I am sorry for my poor reaction to Lady Charlotte. All I can say is that the possibility of being fooled again blinded me to sense. After everything we shared, you are far more to me than just a title.”
“Am I?” he replied doubtfully. “These apologies seem to have come only after discovering how advantageous a match with me would be.”
“Arthur, please,” she pleaded. There was a rustle followed by footsteps. He stiffened as her arms came around his middle from behind. His body reacted on instinct, the memory of those hands heating him with arousal despite the anger between them. Her lips whispered against his back. “I love you.”
He wanted to believe her with a desperation that surprised even him, the thought of her feelings being true invigorating enough for him to accept that he might just feel the same. But she could just as easily be lying, and he refused to trust her with his heart if she merely planned to crush it beneath her heel once she got what she wanted from him. “Most of Renwood is unentailed. I’ve given it to William Tremore for a pittance.”
Francesca nodded against his back. “Good. You seemed to hate it.”
“I have no estate,” he pressed. “The White Heather is my seat, and will remain so for the rest of my life.”
“I know,” she insisted, pressing harder into his back.
He turned around then, and she lowered her arms. Arthur peered into her face through the mask, trying to spot any kind of duplicity in her eyes, but only finding genuine affection shimmering in their depths. Arthur cupped her cheek in his palm, and she leaned into it without preamble. The entire world around them faded, and he could only see her pretty mouth as it upturned in a relieved smile. Dare he trust her? He wasn’t entirely sure, but the moment was far too magical for him to care about his trepidations.
“Francesca,” he murmured.
Her smile widened. “Back to ‘Francesca’, already?”
He let out a playful huff. “Hush now and kiss me. I know you want to.”
She obliged with a melodic little giggle that fairly sent his head spinning, launching her arms around his neck and joining their lips.
Chapter Fifteen
Francesca was melting, her body igniting at the feel of Arthur’s lips caressing hers. It’d been so long since touching him, and her ardor had only increased with time and distance. His arms came around her waist, and she let out a gleeful moan as he crushed her against him. It no longer mattered that they hadn’t quite resolved things between them, that she hadn’t received a confirmation of his own feelings. All she cared about was pressing herself as close to him as she could manage, her body throbbing with desire for more. His fingers slipped beneath her mask and tugged the garment from her face, lips caressing the side of her temple before trailing down to her neck. She clutched him closer as his teeth grazed her pulse, face burning at the words she was about to utter. “Arthur, please. I want you.”
He groaned into her neck, his hands roaming urgently at her sides. “Oh, darling, please don’t tempt me or I’ll make love to you in the middle of my bloody parlor.”
“Yes,” she pressed, her center aching at the very thought of it. Kitty, along with a red-faced and reluctant Sophie, had told her what to expect when laying with a man, and Francesca yearned for nothing more than to be with him in such a way.
“Christ, Francesca.” He took her lips in another bruising kiss before taking her hand and leading her to the sofa. She squealed in surprise as he pulled her down with him, falling into his lap as he leaned back. His arms came around her, face pressing into her back. “I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want you right now,” he muttered.
Her heart raced, and she felt his arousal against her bottom. “Then have me.”
He nudged her forward in response, kissing the back of her neck as his fingers deftly untied her lacings. Her heart thundered in her ears as he made quick work of her stays and slipped his hands beneath them to cup her breasts through her chemise. “Does anyone know you are here?” he inquired thickly, his breath tickling the shell of her ear as he moved his hands to slip the garments from her shoulders.
“No,” she breathed as her breasts were exposed to the naked air.
“Good. I don’t want to rush.” His palms brushed her nipples, and she inhaled sharply. “You like that?” he asked playfully, his fingertips lightly swirling over the sensitive peaks.
She bit her lip, nodding with a low whimper as he gently pinched and rolled them between his fingers. He dropped one hand to pull her skirts around her waist, and she opened her legs without preamble, burning to feel his touch. Her hips bucked against his hand as he ran a teasing finger up her slit, the great ache almost too much to bear.
“So eager,” he muttered. His fingers delved deeper into her folds, sliding across her slick nub. A low cry left her lips at the sudden jolt of pleasure, her body writhing in search of release. She snapped her eyes shut as the pressure built, but then he slowed his movements. “Keep your eyes open,” he commanded gently. “Watch as I pleasure you.”
She obeyed, looking down with wide eyes at the utterly erotic sight of his fingers stroking her glistening folds. Her hands clutched the fabric of the sofa as one finger slid down and pushed inside, gently moving within her. A second finger joined the first, and Francesca could only watch with a moan as they glided in and out of her body with increasing speed. “Arthur,” she gasped out as the pressure built to nearly intolerable levels, her body growing tighter with each thrust of his fingers.
“Yes, love, come around my fingers,” he whispered harshly into her ear, roughly pinching her nipple with his free hand. She came apart with a harsh cry, thrashing against the powerful spasms of her center. His fingers left her to gently massage her nub, and she twitched with every pass over the sensitive bundle as the final pulses of orgasm subsided. She leaned back to gaze into his face, breath catching at the dark look of arousal in his hooded gaze and the wicked smile on his mouth. “Do you want me inside of you?” he asked and continued to slowly stroke her overstimulated flesh.
The ache was sharper, almost painful, and she rolled her hips into the delicious sensation. “Please,” she pleaded. He guided her on her back on the sofa and shrugged out of his coat. She parted her thighs as he settled between them, relishing in the feel of his weight atop hers.
“You are sure?” he asked intently, staring into her face as he slid a hand between them to unbutton his falls.
Francesca wrapped her legs around his hips in response. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my entire life,” she said with a small smile.
He gave her a chaste kiss and rubbed the head of his shaft against her. She titled her hips in invitation, moaning against his mouth as he pushed inside. The thick pressure of his hardness was almost too much to bear, and she inhaled with minor discomfort from the novel sensation. He stroked his thumb across her nub and the pleasure of it relaxed her enough to properly accommodate him. “You’re so lovely,” he whispered against her ear, thrusting with a low groan. Francesca snaked her arms around his shoulders, her hips rocking with his as the ache built once more. “Come for me again,” he breathed, his thumb roughly flicking her.
She climaxed hard and fast, crying out as her center clamped harshly around his shaft. His thrusting grew erratic until he buried his face into her shoulder with a low moan. Francesca felt the warmth that Kitty had warned her of, its presence pushing through the haze of her ardor. “Arthur,” she whispered urgently, hope blooming in her chest despite her best effort.
