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“Yes.” Ophelia nodded.
“Yet Miss Barge told us each we did not want to go.”
“It would seem so.” Ophelia’s eyes widened. “Why would she do that?”
“I don’t know.” Elliot turned in a circle. Suddenly, a cloud was being lifted. It didn’t matter to him that the rain came down hard beyond the window of the folly, not when it felt as if a light was being shone between him and Ophelia. “Is that why you have been so distanced from me?” he asked, looking back at her.
“Me? You are distanced from me!” She waved a hand at him. “You are warm one minute, all heat, then you are cold.”
“Never cold, never,” he assured her, stepping toward her. “I thought you were scared of how fast we were moving, uncertain, and needed space. I thought my flowers were too much—”
“Flowers? What flowers?” Ophelia asked. Elliot could have laughed at the absurdity of it all when he realised that she did not know what he was speaking of.
“Ophelia.” He lowered his voice and stepped toward her again, his voice calmer this time. “The day after you and I made love for the first time, I arranged for flowers to be sent to your chamber.”
“Elliot,” she murmured, her voice just as soft, “I never got any flowers.”
“But I arranged for them to come to the house. Miss Barge was to take them to your room.”
“Well, as we are establishing, it seems Miss Barge cannot be trusted.” Ophelia folded her arms before her manner softened again. “You really sent me flowers?”
“Of course I did,” Elliot said hurriedly. “What on earth is your maid playing at?”
“I don’t know. I do not know at all.” She shook her head, then she reached toward him. “Elliot, do you not see what this means?”
“Means? It means a maid has been interfering with our happiness!” he said, his tone still so mad it could not be calmed. As Ophelia’s hands took hold of the lapels of his frock coat, though, his attention was drawn toward her.
“Yes, it does, but it also means,” she murmured softly, moving toward him, “none of the distance between us was of our own doing.” He blinked, realising she was right as she came closer. “You weren’t pulling back from me after all.”
“Pulling back from you?” he repeated, shocked she would think so. “No. I was worried you thought I was too overbearing and wanted to give you space. Ah, Ophelia, I’m so sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too,” she whispered, moving toward him. She came so close now that Elliot could not resist her. Moving his lips to hers, he kissed her.
Unlike their fierce and passionate kisses form the past, this one was delicate and tender. With one hand in her hair, he urged her to angle her head, giving him access to her. As his tongue danced with her own, it was a seductive one, with the heat rising so quickly between them that when one of her hands slipped beneath his frock coat, the excitement made his body rise to her.
“Ophelia,” he murmured between his kisses.
“Yes?” she whispered back.
“What I feel for you, I need you to know…” He paused just long enough to set more kisses on her neck. “This is not a marriage of convenience, not to me.”
“Nor to me, either.”
Her words were enough to break him. He didn’t want to leave this folly, nor Ophelia’s side. They were secluded out here alone, completely as they were meant to be, with no more confusion between them, and he intended to take every advantage of it.
“Let us stay here for a while,” he begged, setting kisses down her neck and to the top of the spencer jacket she wore, pulling it back just enough to reveal some of her skin.
“I was going to ask you the same thing.” As she pushed his frock coat off his shoulders, he understood what she meant. It encouraged him to return his lips to her. This time, the kiss was urgent from them both, full of need.
As his hands went to her spencer jacket, she helped him. The jacket was quickly shed and he reached for the gown, too, untying it just enough to raise it over her head. When she was wearing only the chemise and corset, they went for his clothes. The tailcoat was tossed aside, along with the waistcoat, cravat, and his shirt. As he moved their bodies back together, cradling her in his arms and kissing her, she giggled into his embrace.
“You’re laughing,” he whispered, smiling between their kisses. “I hope it’s not my kissing.”
“Not at all,” she said, still giggling. “I was just thinking how cold this floor will be.”
“Well, there is something we can do about that.” He released her long enough to find his clothes and toss them across the floor. The coat was the wettest, but the tailcoat, shirt, and waistcoat offered some dryness, having been protected from the rain. He went back to kissing her, then placed himself on the floor with Ophelia above him, straddling him.
In the heat that was between them, the steam seemed to be evaporating from their bodies. He kept pulling at her hair in its updo as he kissed down her neck and across her exposed bosom above her corset, wanting more of her. When she moved her hips toward his, he could tell she could not hold back anymore, no more than he could.
