I was too harsh with her.
“I believe I will go up and check on her. Have two trays prepared and sent to her room.” Beau pushed back from the table and headed up the stairs. He tried to rehearse an apology speech. He was so unaccustomed to these sorts of conversations. With a mistress, an apology always came in the form of diamonds. But he knew diamonds wouldn’t matter to Philippa.
When he reached her chambers, he knocked and pressed his ear to the door. When he heard no footsteps approaching, he tried the door latch. It turned and he eased the door open. Was she asleep? The last thing Beau wanted to do was disturb her if she was.
The bedchamber was dark except for the fire. He could only just make out Philippa’s form curled up on a chair facing the flames. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. His heart beat hard against his ribs as he prepared to apologize, but he hesitated a moment before joining her by the fire.
“Philippa… We should speak about what happened today.” He looked down and saw her cheeks shimmering with the tracks of tears. She wiped her eyes as she met his gaze.
“You scolded me like a child. I’m not a child, Beau,” she said softly, her voice husky with emotion, painfully reminding him she was a grown woman. One with a pure heart that he’d treated poorly.
“You’re right. I scolded you for your temper and I shouldn’t have. Lord knows I would’ve done the same thing if I’d been in your place, had it been a man who’d done it.”
“You excuse Miss Monroe’s actions because she’s a woman?”
“Certainly not. But I won’t raise a hand to a woman, even a terrible one.” He looked at the vacant chair beside her. “May I sit?”
“It is your home. You may do as you please.” Her sullen reply made him smile for reasons he couldn’t explain.
“It is. But this is your room while you remain here.” He sat down and started to reach for her hand on the armrest but stopped himself. It was too soon.
Philippa resumed her vigil staring at the flames. “Do you care about her? Miss Monroe?”
“Miss Monroe? Christ, no,” he answered with a bemused chuckled. “That woman is a gossip monger and has only her own interests at heart, assuming she does have a heart, which I’ve often wondered about.”
“But you were so polite to her. She called you Beau and”
Beau raised a hand, silencing her. “I am civil to a great many people that I do not like. It makes life easier. And she, like many women who have longed to snare me in a Parson’s mousetrap, use my given name at their leisure. I could be cold and correct them, but it’s rather amusing to watch a dozen ladies in a room all call me Beau and then realize the other ladies also have that privilege. It sows seeds of discord amongst the little gossips.” He cracked a smile as he saw a flicker of mirth in Philippa’s eyes.
“But you let me call you Beau. You even insist upon it.”
He waited until their gazes locked and, stunned by the openness between them, he felt compelled to be honest. “Because I like you, darling.”
Philippa was quiet another long moment. “I am sorry I caused you embarrassment.”
“Don’t be. She deserved that punishment. I only wished the majority of the ton hadn’t seen you do it.”
“Because of the scandal?”
He chuckled. “On the contrary. You will likely become a hero to half the people in London. Miss Monroe does not have friends, only enemies and future enemies. I imagine as word spreads, we will have dozens of calling cards for poor Mr. Stoddard to sort through. You and I shall have to start accepting house calls. But it leaves me to wonder how Monmouth will interpret this, and whether such attention will encourage him to act instead of observing as we’d hoped.”
“So, you aren’t angry with me?”
He scrubbed a hand on his jaw. “I was afraid. When I saw Albus fall, taking you down beneath him… Philippa… I never want to feel that terror I felt then ever again.” He leaned forward, and this time he was brave enough to clasp her hand. “Now, let me have a look at you. Did you get hurt? I can send for a doctor. I should have done so hours ago.” But he hadn’t because he’d been brooding. What a pointless exercise that had been.
“I have only a few scratches. I’m fine.”
“Scratches?” He tugged on her hand to urge her to her feet. “Where?” He searched her face and arms but saw no rips in the cloth. She gestured with a blush toward her blue velvet skirts. Only then did he see the tears in the voluminous fabric that she’d been hiding from him.
“Would you let me look?”
Her eyes searched his, for what he did know, but then she finally nodded.
Beau led her to the bed where she sat on the edge. He then lit a candle and set it nearby on the table to cast some light for him to better see her injuries. He lifted her skirts and the riding habit pooled around her knees as he glimpsed the scratches. She had removed her boots and stockings. The poor white silk streaked with blood was draped over the changing room screen, but he’d not noticed that until now.
“Does it hurt?” he asked.
“They sting a little,” she admitted and flinched as he stroked the skin above the cuts, exploring them.
His blood began to pound as he tried to remind himself that she needed looking after, not seduction. “Would you let me tend to them?”
She answered with a small nod.
He left and retrieved a jar of salve he kept in his own room. Whenever he nicked himself shaving the salve came into good use. When he returned to the room, he found her waiting for him. She had pulled her skirts up past her mid-thighs, but she glanced away shyly as he approached. It stopped him in his tracks for an instant as he had to push back his instant desire for her.
Get it together, man, he growled inwardly.
“This will help ease the sting.” He held up the salve. “Part your legs a little wider.”
He drew close, unscrewing the jar and dipping an index finger into the heavy substance. She drew in a sharp breath as he stroked his finger over one of the deeper scratches.
She’d been through so much and he’d rewarded her by yelling at her for it. Now he would do what he could to make up for that error. He applied the salve on every cut and scrape he could find and then wiped his hand on a towel by the wash basin before he returned to her.
“Philippa…” The words he wanted to say stuck on his tongue, but he dragged them out. “I’m sorry.”
She blinked slowly, her long lashes fanning down and then up. She raised her hands to curl her fingers around his wrists. “Please never yell at me like that again.”
“I won’t.” He bent his head, so their noses brushed and his forehead touched hers. He cupped her face and searched her fathomless mercurial eyes, for what he wasn’t quite certain. “I swear it.” The vow was carved in his heart. He would never hurt her like that again, not even if he was afraid for her. They held each other in silence until she shifted closer to him.
“Why do you make me ache?” she asked the question so innocently that it nearly killed him.
“What kind of ache?”
She pressed one hand to her lower belly. “Here. A deep, powerful ache. Is that…?”
“Desire?”
“Is it?” She stared up at him in wonder. “I didn’t know what it meant to feel like this. I’ve stayed away from gentleman and passion. I’ve seen what others call desire in their eyes, but to me it looks like possessiveness. Like I am something to be owned. But when you touch me…the way it makes me feel? I want more. Please, teach me?”
The sweet beseeching of her tone broke him. How could he deny her? He was hers to command.
“Yes, I’ll teach you.”
With the kiss that followed, he feared he would be forever lost.
Chapter 13
Philippa couldn’t believe this was happening. The most handsome man she’d ever seen was in her bedchamber kissing her in a way that made her body ache and her toes curl with waves of desire. His sexual confidence had
lured her into his arms as easily as a moth to a flame and she didn’t care if she got burned.
It had been foolish to ask him for this. There was no possible way this could end well. But she was tired of fighting her own desires. He broke the kiss and gave her body a raking gaze causing a flare of heat to emanate from his focused look.
“Do you trust me?” he asked, his voice husky with need.
She nodded without hesitation. She didn’t trust herself but given that her body had won the battle tonight against her mind, it no longer mattered.
He helped her slide off the bed, then unbuttoned the front of her riding habit and peeled the coat off her shoulders. Her pulse quickened as he unhooked the skirt and it fell to her feet in a puddle of blue velvet.
He twirled his fingers and she turned, offering him her back. A playful spark skittered under her skin as his fingers plucked at the cords of hers stays. Even the touch of his fingers against her bare back as he removed the stays, gave a wild yet quiet sort of intimacy to this moment. She reached up to cover her bare breasts with sudden embarrassment, but he didn’t stop her. He continued his gentle touches and movements of slow, sweet seduction as he pulled the pins from her hair. It tumbled down in wild waves and he leaned into her, burying his face against the crown of her hair.
“Why do you remind me of a garden every time I’m near you?” he murmured. His warm breath whispered over her scalp and each word was a searing breath that shot waves of pleasure down her body. “You’re more dream than woman.”
He brushed her hair back from her shoulder and pressed soft kisses against her neck. Beau’s breath was warm. As tingles slid down her spine, she slowly released her hands and let them fall to her sides. He gripped her waist from behind before he moved his palms to cup her breasts.
Philippa moaned as he kneaded the soft, aching flesh and lightly pinched her nipples. She’d never known how sensitive her body could be until he touched her. It was as though every caress lit some flame within her, making her feel like a beacon of intense light. She hadn’t imagined she could feel so glorious and so alive.
His hard body behind her blurred with the sensation of his mouth on her neck. His erection gently nudged her lower back, and she was overwhelmed by curiosity about his body. Beau made her feel…brave in a way she’d never felt before, brave enough to make sensual demands of him.
“I want to touch you,” she gasped.
He chuckled and turned her around to face him. He unbuttoned his waistcoat while she watched, eager and breathless. Slowly he removed his shirt and let her drink her fill of his body. She never could have imagined that seeing a man undress would be such a powerful and exciting experience. He unfastened the front of his trousers and lowered them off his hips.
There was a pause, where he stood with his breeches low on his hips, his body so clearly wanting hers, while they stared at one another. Philippa saw the question in his eyes. Was he allowed to continue? Did she want him to keep going? It was her decision, but from the moment she first saw him there had never been a choice, only desire. This quicksilver passion that flashed and burned between them had, in some ways, been inevitable. She bit her bottom lip as he bent to shuck his pants and boots off.
Philippa’s eyes strayed south down his chest to the trail of dark hair that started below his navel and led to his shaft. He was hard and the sight fascinated her. She reached for him, but hesitated.
He seemed to know what she wanted and gently grasped her hand, entwining their fingers briefly before he brought her palm to his chest. He was smooth except for a tiny patch of dark hair that started below his naval. Fascinated, she trailed her hand down his chest, feeling each corded rope of muscle that adorned his abdomen before she dared to touch his erection. When she finally did, she curled her fingers around his thickness. His eyes closed as she stroked him. His obvious pleasure and the feel of his soft, hot, velvety skin was so enticing to her. Philippa drew a deep breath to settle herself as she leaned towards him.
He opened his eyes as he thrust his hips toward her while she continued to stroke him. But the balance of power was turning now as he cupped one of her breasts and flicked his thumb over her nipple until she clenched her thighs together. There was something magical about touching each other like this. He was teaching her how to open up to her desires and she adored him for it.
Beau raised her up, and she gasped as she released him. He carried her back to the bed and lay her down on it. For a moment, they simply stared at one another, both knowing that this was no longer a game, no longer an exploration or even a lesson, but a journey they would take together.
“You need only say the word and I will stop,” he said, but that was the last thing she wanted. She tilted her head back and let go of the last vestiges of propriety and embarrassment to give in to her own desires.
“Never stop,” she commanded. “Please, never stop touching me.”
His rakish smile could have given her wings to fly.
“Yes, my lady,” he replied, and she knew she was lost to him, now and forever.
He stroked a fingertip from her neck down to her mound. She trembled as his finger parted her folds. She blushed at the wetness she felt pool there. Beau stroked her, teasing patterns in her hot flesh until her legs were shaking and a need too strong to ignore had built inside her.
Philippa expected him to enter her, to take her the way she was told men were supposed to. But he didn’t. He bent over her, kissing her breasts, flicking his tongue over her nipples and sucking on the tender peaks. She hissed in shocked pleasure.
“You like that?” he murmured against her, his voice deepening with desire.
“Yes!”
He took his time kissing his way down her body, exploring her valleys and peaks and curves. She took note of a dozen places on her body she’d never thought to be special. Yet with each flick of his tongue, or press of his lips, she’d come alive with fresh pleasure and anticipation.
He continued to toy with her nipples while his mouth moved to her folds. His tongue played with her until her entire body was hot and she felt like she almost couldn’t breathe. She was sweating and suffocating with pleasure.
“Please… I need…” She didn’t know what she needed but he had to know. When she looked down the length of her body, she saw that carnal knowledge in his gaze.
He spread her legs wide, fit himself at her entrance, and leaned over her as he entered. He thrust hard and pain pinched deep within her. She cried out, startled by the invasion.
“Breathe, darling, breathe,” he encouraged gently.
When he did move inside her, she calmed as her short breaths evened out.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yes, much.” She gazed into his whiskey colored eyes, marveling at how they’d become a deep tawny gold as they reflected the firelight.
Then Beau began to move, withdrawing and surging back in. Slowly at first, then harder. Each thrust made her slide on the bed forcing him to grip her hips to take full control of her in a way that made her dizzy. She couldn’t deny that she relished the feeling of safety with him, even as he made love to her so fiercely.
As her need grew and the peak of pleasure she sensed came so close, she had a realization: he was tearing apart her soul. A sudden ache burned deep inside her heart. He had tied her to him, yet she feared this moment for him was merely satisfying a physical need.
He was a rake. And French nobility. Such men didn’t fall in love with servants.
“Stay with me, darling.” His words broke through her sad thought and she met his intense stare. Just like that, the sensations of him filling her were too much to resist. The pleasure which followed was pure, hard, and overwhelming, like a cascading waterfall crashing down upon overly dark moss-covered stones.
She sucked in a breath as her heart swelled. A dozen emotions flooded her eyes with tears. It was as though everything around her was glowing and glorious. Beau leaned over her, whispering sweet words of comfort. A few m
oments later, when she’d calmed, his expression changed. The sweetness was replaced by intensity as he began to thrust back inside her again. Sensitive nerve endings rippled to life again and she cried out in exquisite torture as he pumped into her over and over. His hands held her hips possessively in a way that sent her senses spinning.
Beau gasped her name as his body turned rigid and he emptied himself into her. She’d never felt incomplete before, yet coming together with him, feeling the tenderness of his touch when he claimed her mouth with a kiss left her feeling full-hearted. She was overwhelmed, and for a long while, neither of them spoke or moved, except to kiss.
“So, this is what everyone fusses about in such hushed tones?” she asked when their mouths finally broke apart.
“Rather nice, isn’t it?” Beau replied, his rakish grin making her giggle.
“It rather it is.” She curled her arms around him. Would he leave now or would he stay? She didn’t dare ask. He ran his palms along her back as he nuzzled her neck.
“Thank you for the gift,” he said as she closed her eyes.
“Gift?”
“Your first time with a man. It was a wonderful gift and I am honored by your trust.” He finally pulled back enough to stare at her. “You must be tired. I came here to see you were well after your fall, not to take advantage of you.”
“You didn’t.” She assured him. “You could never do that. I’ll always want you.”
His eyes met hers as she said that, and she wondered if she had made a mistake in her confession.
“You should get into bed. We have a long day of social calls, followed by dinner tomorrow evening.” He stepped back, their bodies separating, and she instantly felt the loss of their intimate connection.
“Would you…stay?” she asked, biting her bottom lip.
He averted his gaze from her. “I don’t think that is wise.”
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