by Mia Vincy
An entrancing sense of lightness swept through him, rushing through his blood as if he had swallowed a drug, but no medicine’s effect was this marvelous. Every fiber in his body itched to dance. Every detail, every color, was rendered clear and crisp. The light was brighter, the bees buzzed louder, the honeysuckle smelled sweeter than ever before.
Thea gave no sign that she had seen him, but the set of her shoulders made him suspect she had. Without looking at him, she skipped behind a hedge.
Motionless, Rafe waited. Her hair appeared over the top of hedge. Then her forehead. Then her smiling blue eyes. As soon as their eyes met, she ducked.
Chuckling, he went after her. Again she skipped away, until she paused to study an orange daylily, her face half turned toward him. Her dimple told him she was fighting a smile.
He edged closer. “You have left a trail of clothing in the garden.”
She laughed. “It’s terrible of me, I know. No decorum at all, and the sun must be doing perfectly horrid things to my complexion. But it feels so good, doesn’t it? The sun on one’s skin, the air so fresh and clean, and so much sky and nature! I shall have none of this in London.”
The breeze crawled over him. He gripped one wrist in the other hand so hard it hurt.
“London,” he repeated.
“I must leave tomorrow, if I am to distribute my pamphlets before the Prince Regent’s costume party. So never fear, I shall no longer be such a trial for you, my lord.”
“You are no trial.”
“No, since you never see me. I suppose, in your mind, I am already gone.”
“You are never gone from my mind.”
Her shoulders flinched, and the flower under her hand quivered. Slowly, she turned to face him. He read the questions in her eyes, in those expressive blue eyes that he hoped to read every day.
“Never,” he repeated.
A satisfied smile spread over her face. “Never?”
“You give me no peace at all.”
“Good. You deserve to be tormented mercilessly.” Abruptly, her smile shifted to distress. “No, no, I don’t mean that,” she added in a rush. “You don’t deserve it. You’ve already suffered in ways you did not deserve… I’m so sorry. I say these things and—”
“Hush, Thea. I know what you meant.”
“Are you… Um.” She nibbled at her lip and tried again. “The bishop said you needed time alone, and I understand that is your nature, to need time alone, but I did worry about you. Are you…all right?”
“Very much so,” he answered and realized it was the truth. “I always thought one could not rewrite the past, but it seems the past is not set in stone. We learn new things about our history, and view it from a fresh perspective, and when we see things we hadn’t known were there, everything changes. That’s what you want too, isn’t it? To make your parents look at what happened anew?”
Her hands were restless. “Is it possible, then?”
“If I could truly change the past, I would make it so no one had ever hurt you. If I could, I would change the whole world, so it could never hurt you again.”
“I wish I could do the same for you,” she said.
Ah, but she could.
He could not touch her, not yet, not when she needed to make the choice. Instead, he rested his fingers on the lily between them, and waited for her to touch him.
In the end, it was not Thea who touched him, but a butterfly. Its wings, pale blue like the English sky, rested open as it landed on the back of his hand. Thea dropped her eyes to it and sidled closer. His senses were so heightened by her closeness that he was sure he felt the butterfly’s tiny feet dancing on his thick skin.
“It’s good luck to have a butterfly land on you,” she whispered. “If you make a wish, the butterfly will fly away and use its magic to make your wish come true.”
“I’ve never heard that before.” His voice sounded hoarse.
“Of course not. I made it up just now.”
“Well, if you made it up, then it must be true.”
Her lips curved playfully and her eyes dipped to linger on his mouth; he was smiling too, broadly, helplessly, undignified dimple on display.
“Will you make a wish?” she prompted.
Rafe made a wish. A wish so bold and true that the butterfly immediately took flight. He followed it with his eyes, the pale-blue butterfly fluttering off in search of his wish. Silly butterfly was going in the wrong direction. His wish stood right in front of him, saying, “Look, it left footprints.”
“Hmm?”
Thea brushed her fingers over the back of his hand, and that left prints. Sensation rippled over his skin like the breeze on the lake, until every inch of him shimmered with the feel of her.
He caught her hand in his. “I’ll tell you my wish.”
“Wishes must stay secret.”
“But I must tell you the wish or it cannot come true. What do the butterflies say about that?”
Another butterfly, or perhaps it was the same one, flitted past. She followed its dance with her eyes and then looked back at him.
“Butterfly says Very Well.”
“My wish…”
His real wish was too important to be left to a butterfly. It fluttered inside him, tender and hushed, its delicate wings stirring up a storm in his heart. He would ask her later; it was a serious question, and not one for butterfly games.
So instead he spoke a subordinate wish. “I wish to kiss you again.”
“That is your wish?”
He wasn’t sure if she sounded pleased or disappointed. Perhaps he should speak his real wish, and speak it he must, because otherwise, she would leave for London the next day. But it was because she meant to leave, because she had never intended to stay, that even with the magic of a million butterflies, Rafe could not quite muster the courage to say the words. Because her answer would change everything, and if the answer was not the one he longed to hear, they would never speak again, and everything would be lost.
“May I kiss you again?” he asked.
Her lips were parted, her eyelids heavy with welcome. Her inviting gaze did not leave his, not for a heartbeat, as she whispered her answer.
“Butterfly says Yes.”
But he did not kiss her. Not immediately. He did not want to rush this. He wanted every precious second to last forever.
Thea’s gaze dipped to his mouth, and she moistened her lips, her innocent dart of tongue shooting a heated invitation to his groin.
With an unsteady hand, Rafe caught that errant curl and slid his fingers down its length, transferring from the silk of her hair to the satin of her throat. He fancied he could feel her pulse, racing, too fast, for him. At least as fast as his own, which skittered with the frenzy of a dragonfly. Lowering his head, he brushed a kiss over her temple. She made a sound like velvet, and his heart skittered some more.
Next, his lips grazed her cheekbone, the sweet scent of her skin snaring him like an intoxicant. He crossed to kiss her ear on the other side. Once more, she made that velvet sound.
“Are you teasing me?” she whispered.
“Why would you say that?”
He let his lips hover against her jaw and she tilted her head back in an offering. He trailed kisses down her throat, lingering to taste her skin, to sense her pulse. She buried her fingers in his hair, summoning from his throat a matching velvet moan.
“Your wish didn’t say where you meant to kiss me,” she murmured, breathily.
He could barely pause between kisses to reply. “I did not speak my full wish, for I did not want to upset the butterfly’s delicate sensibilities.”
“If butterflies hear people’s deepest wishes, they cannot be too delicate or they would fall from the sky in shock.”
“Would it be shocked if I said I wished to kiss you everywhere?” He planted a kiss in the hollow under her throat and dragged his mouth away, just enough to look right into her eyes. “Everywhere.”
She inhaled on a gasp
. Her fingers slid out of his hair and feathered over his cheeks.
“No need,” she breathed. “When you kiss me in one place, I feel it everywhere.”
“Do you like that?”
“I always want more. I am greedy for your kisses, the way I’m greedy for syllabub.”
Rafe chuckled. “This is better than syllabub.”
“I find that hard to believe. Syllabub is the very pinnacle of pleasure.”
“I promise, this is better.”
“Um. I’m not sure about that.”
Her teasing tone danced through his veins, firing his own need for more. More teasing, more touching.
More Thea.
He slid his fingers under the edge of her bodice and over her satiny skin. The cotton yielded only enough to reveal the first enticing swell of her breasts.
Rafe pressed his hungry mouth to that glorious skin, tasted her perfection with his lips, his tongue, his teeth. With another gasp, she tangled her fingers once more in his hair, tugging at his scalp. Longing and need cascaded through him.
“And that?” He glanced up, desperate to learn everything she liked. “Do you feel that everywhere?”
She seemed fascinated by this. “As though your kisses slide under my skin and into my blood, and then they bounce around inside me, showing up in…” Her boldness failed. “Unexpected places.”
“I assure you, it is not unexpected. It is extremely expected.”
He had barely kissed her, and already he was almost undone, his imagination firing at the thought of her unexpected places, at the thought of planting his kisses there. Not to mention his own unexpected places, which were behaving exactly as expected.
Staggering a few steps, Rafe propped himself on a low stone wall to level their faces. When he parted his legs, she glided unhesitatingly between them. He held her steady at her waist, and almost immediately her hands moved over him, those irrepressible hands with their need to touch. Closing his eyes, Rafe surrendered to the warmth of the sun, and the lazy buzzing of bees, and Thea’s explorations, tormenting his throat, his shoulders, his chest.
Where she stilled, her palm pressed against his muscles. “I can feel your heart beating. Hard and fast. You have a strong heart.”
“You do that.” He did not know if he meant that she made his heart beat fast and hard, or if she made it strong. It needed to be strong, because of the way it beat near her. “Because I want you.”
“Um.”
She fisted her hand in his shirt. Her breathing came jaggedly, and he opened his eyes to see her looming over him, her expression fierce.
“You like that,” he growled, her ardor turning his desire savage. “You like knowing how much I want you.”
“Who doesn’t want to be wanted, when it’s someone they want too? Someone one would pursue to the ends of the earth.” Still her hands roamed, haphazardly, fighting his shirt to travel over his skin. “I liked it when you kissed my throat.”
He answered with a rough sound that might have been “Yes,” and threw back his head that she might brand his throat with her fury of hot kisses. Impatiently, she nudged aside his shirt to reach his collarbone. There, she bit him. He groaned against the surge of lust, his hands drifting up the curve of her waist and ribcage in an exploration of his own, pausing beneath the alluring softness of her breasts.
“Would you pursue me that far?” she asked.
“How far?”
“To the ends of the earth.”
“Would you make me?”
Instead of answering, she caught his head and held him fast to kiss him, her lips plundering his, feverish, ferocious. She touched her tongue to his and retreated; he caught her and back she came, and then it was his turn to plunder, to explore her mouth with his tongue, to stroke her and madden her and let her know how intensely he wanted her. More than he wanted air, certainly, for he was light-headed by the time she broke away and brushed his hair from his forehead.
“Was it your wish to touch me too?” she whispered, her eyes searching his. “Because all these kisses, they are filling up inside me, and all these places want your touch.”
His hands rode up the last few inches to cup her breasts, to seek out and tease her nipples, evoking a whimper that had him pressing his heels into the earth, grounding himself so he would not grab that yellow bodice in his fists and tear the blasted gown from her body.
They could not make love if they were not married. Of course, they would marry. But he still had to ask. She still had to say yes.
“Thea, beautiful, enchanting Thea… We can’t.”
“But I want more. I shan’t take too much. I’ll leave you what you need. I only want a bit more.”
Rafe did not think he could give only a bit more. He wanted to give her everything, and take all of her.
“More of what?” he managed.
“Of you. I know you need to be alone sometimes.” Her voice was tender and pleading. “But give me a glimpse of you, of the man you are when no one else is watching, when you are alone and you are purely you.” She nipped his earlobe, and he made a frog-like sound that caused her to giggle. A blaze of desire seared through him, but even in the midst of this torment, Rafe had to laugh, laugh with the sheer joy of being, and being with her. When she looked into his eyes, he fancied he saw her spirit and hoped she saw his too, that he might be with her as if he were alone.
Alone with her.
The funny thing was, he had never felt less alone in his life.
“Thea, first… There’s something I must do first…”
Steeling himself against the throb in his loins and the lust clawing at his limbs, Rafe slid out from between her and the wall. Her palms were pressed to her cheeks, her delicious pink lips parted, her eyes so bright she looked fevered.
But before he could ask his question, she said, “Yes,” and she knew, she had answered!
And then she added, “First, you must catch me.”
She took two steps backward, and then whirled about and ran. Her yellow skirts flew around her, her hair freeing itself to stream behind her.
She wanted to play, to make him work for it.
The anticipation amplified his desire, thrilling him, startling him.
And when she had gained some distance, Rafe inhaled deeply and gave chase.
Chapter 22
Thea did not know what she was doing.
All she knew was that every minute she passed with Rafe felt right, and today was all she had. Rafe’s wish was to kiss her; he never said he wanted her to stay. He had chosen not to be in the world; she could not ask for more. No matter, she had to leave anyway, put the world right and start her life again.
But that still gave her today, and whatever memories today would bring.
She ran toward the lake, the grass springy under her bare feet. No one was around, not on a Sunday afternoon, and the quiet lent the garden an air of enchantment, as if it were magically hidden from the world. She risked a glance over her shoulder: Rafe was loping after her in pursuit. They both knew he could catch her easily if he wished. Yet he played her game.
Laughing with her scarce breath, Thea darted into a copse of trees, beyond which lay the secluded part of the lake, where she had swum alone. In the trees, she glanced around again. No Rafe. Surely he had not tired of the game so soon?
But as she reached the last of the trees, a sound had her whirling, to see Rafe, grinning and close. He pounced, catching her around the waist from behind. With a squeal, she grabbed the nearest tree. His breathing was ragged in her ear, his chest hot against her back.
I must remember this, she thought, and soaked up every sensation, seared it into her memory.
“Were you aware,” he murmured, his rough breathiness curling deliciously over her ear, “that your dress is fastened with four buttons?”
“I’m aware.”
“Hmm.”
With gentle hands, he gathered her hair over her shoulder. Then he opened the first of her four buttons.<
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“One,” he said.
His hair tickled her neck, his breath burned her spine, his lips caressed her skin. Everything, she reminded herself. She must remember everything. The way he touched her, his heat and his scent, the way her body clamored for more.
Another button popped open. “Two.”
As his lips slid down her spine, his hands glided up her sides. He cupped her breasts again, teased her nipples. She gasped and arched, then his hands were gone.
Another button. “Three.”
Her breasts wanted his touch again. Her skin wanted his kisses.
“Four.”
Another breath, another kiss. Then his heat was gone, and she had only the tree under her hands and her gown gaping open and every inch of her body pulsing, burning, yearning for his touch. He surrounded her again, his hands pleasuring her breasts. Every touch sent thrilling messages express to her quim.
“Do you like that?” he murmured from behind her.
“Yes,” she managed.
“Better than syllabub?”
“Um. I don’t know.”
With a rough laugh, he released her and she spun to face him. He looked hungry and fierce, and fully intent on her. He was smiling, a promising, mischievous smile, for her, for their game, for their secret, wicked chase, just the two of them, alone in this enchanted wood.
Laughing, she turned again to run toward the lake, but lust had weakened her limbs and she stumbled. She feared she might fall, but no— He was there. Easily, he lifted her. She released a cry of exhilaration, for she was soaring through the air, flying free yet anchored in his arms, as he carried her to the grass by the water’s edge. Around them, the weeping willows tumbled in a curtain, letting in dapples of sunlight and the sound of lapping waves, keeping out the world.
Her feet were clumsy, but his hands were nimble: They skimmed over her shoulders, sliding her gown over her body until the fabric pooled at her feet. He lifted her again and then somehow, she was kneeling on the welcoming grass, her hips bracketed by his knees, like she was a queen and he was her throne, a queen wearing nothing but her shift, queen of a million unruly sensations.