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“You could just refuse it,” Alice said.
“I cannot,” Harold said hopelessly.
Alice pressed her forehead against his, closing her eyes.
Save me from the bull-headed stubbornness of men and their damned bloody honor!
“Then we must ensure it never comes to that. Simon has never fought a duel in his life. He does not hunt or fence. He will see sense.”
“I hope so. Because if his challenge is all that stands between us, then I am willing to…”
Alice pressed her fingers to his lips to silence him.
“Willing to kill for me? I do not ask it and would not accept you in those circumstances. I do not understand how any woman could,” she said firmly.
Harold pressed his lips against her fingertips and she moved them apart, tracing the line of his mouth. His hand enveloped hers, pressing first her fingers, then her palm to his mouth. She closed her eyes, shivering inside with the pleasure of the intimacy.
“Promise me,” she said. “Promise me that there will never be any question of a duel fought over me.”
For a moment, there was silence.
“I cannot,” Harold said, “I cannot speak for Simon or how far he might go. And I cannot promise to compromise my honor by refusing a challenge.”
Her reply was momentarily stifled as his lips found hers. Brief, tender contact but which set off fireworks within Alice with each touch. For a moment, she resisted. This was too important to allow their passion to sweep it aside. But the knowledge that this moment was precious because of its rarity, that there would be few other times in which they could be together, overrode her sense.
Alice’s arms went about Harold’s neck and their soft kisses became passionate. Her tongue found his mouth, tasting him and meeting his. His hands moved down her back and over her hips, exploring and caressing. She pressed her breasts against him, suddenly desperate for the cloth that separated her flesh from his to be ripped aside, wanting to feel his skin against hers directly.
Harold’s hands moved from her hips to her bottom and Alice yelped as he playfully pinched her. For a moment, their kiss broke apart and she looked into his eyes with a startled expression. He was grinning boyishly, all care and age lifted from his harsh, angular face. It was enough for her to sink into him once more. She pushed against his chest, toppling him back onto the bed and rolling herself onto him.
Skirts impeded her and she grasped the hem of her dress, tugging it up her legs to her knees. Another yelp as Harold’s strong hands pushed them beyond her knees to mid-thigh. Unencumbered, Alice’s legs parted and she sank onto him, straddling his hips. An iron grip against the back of her neck pulled her head to his and she became lost in his kisses once more. Passion ignited within her, making her bold.
She bit at his lips, then kissed and bit his neck. He rewarded her with a gasp of pleasure, which further inflamed her.
“Careful, or you will leave a mark,” Harold said breathlessly.
“It will be my mark of ownership,” Alice replied. “All the other women in the world will know I’ve marked you as mine.”
“You truly are a wild untamable creature,” Harold breathed.
His hands crushed her body against his. One hand held the back of her head as his mouth once again sought hers. The other held her at the small of her back, then moved lower, over the rise of her buttocks, and then inwards, finding the point where her legs met at the top. Alice moaned with uncontrollable lust, searching for his body beneath her with questing hands.
A sudden upward thrust from Harold’s hips was her only warning. Then he was rolling until he lay atop her. Alice’s stockinged legs rose to either side of his hips and she cried out at the iron-hard pressure she now felt against her naked womanhood. She did not know what part of him to touch first and so her hands roamed his body greedily. She grabbed at his back, pulling at the shirt to free it from his breeches. Reaching as far as she could, she grabbed at his taut buttocks, feeling them tense at her touch.
The intimacy aroused her intensely, making her bolder. She wanted this man, wanted every part of him. His body was hers to explore and possess, just as she wanted her body to become a possession of his. At that moment, she was ready to give herself to him utterly. It was Harold who saw sense. He grabbed at her hands, pinning them above her head as he kissed her lips, then her cheek, her neck.
His lips sought her breasts through the material of her dress. Alice planted her feet against the bed and thrust upwards with her hips and he groaned in pleasure, lifting his head.
“We cannot,” he said hoarsely. “Not here and not like this. God help me but in another moment, nothing will stop me. We cannot.”
At first, those words were a knife to Alice’s heart. In the fiery heat of passion, she did not want to hear them. But, then clarity returned to her mind.
Of course we cannot. What was I thinking? I would have given up my maidenhood to him, out of wedlock. And Simon would believe his hatred justified. And would have died for it.
“You’re right,” she said at last.
Harold’s head sank onto her breast. They were both breathing hard. He released her hands and she enfolded him in her arms, wrapping them around him. For a moment, they lay together, bodies in close contact still, arms tight around each other.
“What are we going to do?” Alice said.
