When she’d told him she was ready to at long last reveal what she’d kept buried, both from him and from herself, they’d gone directly to his townhouse. She’d barely had time to admire the ruggedly masculine décor before he’d directed her to sit on a sturdy camelback sofa, put a glass of scotch in both of their hands, and retreated to the fireplace. She hadn’t known if the distance was for his benefit or her own, but by the time she’d gotten halfway through the retelling she was grateful for the space between them.
If gave her room to breathe. Room to think. Room to gauge – or at least attempt to gauge – his mood.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Why?” The three-letter question filled the entire room.
Dropping her gaze to her lap, Felicity tried to answer as honestly as she could. “There were several reasons, I suppose. The first being that it was – is – still painful for me to think about it, let alone speak of it out loud. Scarlett and Ezra were the only ones who knew, and they would never say anything. I thought if enough time went by it would simply…go away. Almost as if it had never happened at all.” She smoothed her hand over the blanket. “And because I was afraid it would make you think of me differently.”
Felix inhaled sharply. “Why would ye ever think that?”
“Because it made me think of myself differently. Before it happened…before it happened I was so sure of everything. I knew who I was. I knew what I was doing. Where I was going. But after it happened, everything changed. I changed. I was no longer the same woman I’d been.” The blanket fell away as she stood up. “I tried to pretend. Every time Ezra visited my bedchamber I tried so hard but I couldn’t…I couldn’t do anything. Just like I couldn’t do anything when Rodger held me down on the mattress.”
“It wasn’t your fault. What that bastard did to ye, it wasn’t your fault.”
“I know that,” she said, but they both detected the uncertainty in her voice. “But if I’d tried harder to stop him–”
“He raped ye,” Felix said flatly, and even though Felicity flinched from the harshness of the word she was grateful he’d said it, for no one else ever had. Certainly not Rodger. Nor Ezra. Nor even Scarlett. They’d acknowledged what had happened to her. With the exception of Rodger, they’d sympathized. But they’d never said it. Not like that.
“There was nothing ye could have done,” Felix continued, “because ye weren’t the one in control. He was. And he used his control to take what didn’t belong to him. And it was wrong, and vile, and if he were still breathing I’d choke the life out of him with my own bare hands.” The flames from the heart paled in comparison to the wrathful fire burning in his gaze. “And I’d enjoy every bloody second of it.”
“But he’s dead,” she said softly.
“Aye, that he is. But that doesn’t mean what he did to ye died along with him.”
Felix was right. Rodger may have been gone, but what he’d done to her had not disappeared. It would always be a part of her. And she could either continue to ignore it and hope it went away…or she could acknowledge it and move forward.
“It truly does not matter to you?” she whispered.
“No.” A lock of hair tumbled across his brow when he angled his head. “I knew ye were beautiful. Smart as a whip. Kind. A good mother. But I never knew how strong ye were until this moment. Ye are the strongest woman I’ve ever met and it’s my privilege to be in love with ye.”
“Oh Felix.” It was the first she’d ever used his Christian name. Tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision as she ran into his arms. He hugged her tight against his chest and held her while she cried. When she was finished and the last tear had finally been purged, she used his handkerchief to wipe her face.
“There now love,” he murmured, stroking her back. “Do ye feel better?”
“Yes.” And she did, Felicity realized. For she was finally free of the burden she’d been carrying for seven long years. A burden that had become so much a part of her that she hadn’t even realized how heavy it had gotten, nor how draining it had been on her soul. “There is only one more thing…”
Felix kissed her brow. “There always is with ye. Out with it, then. I’ll have no more secrets between us.”
Unable to meet his gaze, she bit her lip and stared at a button on his waistcoat. “I do not know if I will be able to be…intimate with you.” A blush spread across her cheeks. “At least not in the manner you are accustomed.”
“Why don’t yet let me worry about that, love.”
“Yes, but–”
“Come sit by the fire.” Keeping an arm around her waist, he guided her gently but firmly to the stone hearth where the fire slowly smoldered. Spreading out a thick fur blanket on the floor, he sat down first and then pulled her onto his lap. After a moment’s hesitation she relaxed against him, her spine curving into the hard line of his body as her head lolled against his chest. She felt his abdomen clench when she rested her hands on his thighs, but he did not press for more than she was ready to give. Instead he began to massage her shoulders, fingers sinking into knotted muscle and coiled sinew until she sighed and closed her eyes.
Sleep came quickly for her, and she did not fight it. Warm, drowsy, and loved, she sank blissfully into slumber.
Chapter Twenty-Two
When Felicity woke it was not yet dawn, and she did not recognize the room she was in. Startled, she jerked upright, her hands instinctively sweeping out to the side.
“Bloody ‘ell,” Felix grunted when she caught him square in the mouth. “I know ye’ve gotten a taste for violence, but next time jest give me a shake.”
“I’m sorry.” Immediately contrite, she folded her arms over her belly. “I did not know where I was.”
“In my bedchamber.” Twisting to the side, he fumbled to light a small oil lamp before he sat back on his elbows and regarded her with the faint tracings of a frown. “Ye fell asleep in front of the fire and I didn’t want ye to get a crick in your neck.” He flexed his jaw. “Although given your newfound penchant for punching I may be inclined just to leave ye there next time.”
“I said I was sorry.”
“Aye, that ye did. By ye know what they say.” Beneath a tousled hank of tawny hair his eyes lit with a rakish gleam. “Nothing says sorry like a kiss.”
Her gaze inadvertently dipped to his chest, and she let out a loud gasp and covered her eyes with her hands. “Mr. Spencer! You – you are not wearing any clothes.”
He lifted the blanket. “I’m wearing my drawers. See?”
Felicity certainly did see. Peeking through her fingers, she saw a taut stomach lined with muscle and a black arrow of hair leading straight down to a pair of white cotton drawers so short they might as well have been nonexistent. In the soft glow of the lamp his skin was the same dusky gold as his eyes and it was with marked difficult that she managed to wrench her gaze away.
“A pair of drawers hardly constitutes clothing,” she said with a prudish sniff.
“I’ve all the important bits covered, haven’t I?” Clasping his hands together behind his neck, he fell back onto his pillow. “And I left ye fully dressed.”
That he had. With the exception of her cloak, shoes, and missing gloves, she still had on everything she’d worn to the theater, including her heavy blue gown, now wrinkled beyond repair.
“Do you know what time it is?” she asked, glancing out the window. The double curtains were tied open with satin cord, affording a glimpse of a small courtyard below where everything was still and dark.
“An hour or two shy of sunrise, if I had to hazard a guess.” His gaze steady and unblinking, he said, “Do ye want me to escort ye home, Miss Atwood?”
“No.” She returned his stare, her expression solemn even as her heart began to race and heat warmed her belly. “No, I don’t.”
His eyes darkened with awareness. “What is it ye want, then?”
What did she want? Now that Felix knew her deepest, darkest secret – and it had done nothin
g but strengthen the love he felt for her – what did she really want? For him. For herself. For them both.
“You,” she said without hesitation. “I want you.”
“Ah, love,” he groaned. “Do ye know how long I’ve been waiting for ye to say those words?”
“Nearly as long as I’ve been waiting to say them, I imagine.” Yet despite her desire, she couldn’t help but feel a prickling of bashfulness. What if she did not meet Felix’s expectations? He’d said to let him worry about it, but how could she possibly do anything except worry? Grasping the blanket, she pulled it up to her chin as she sank lower into the bed. “It – it has been a very long time. I do not know what I’m supposed to do.”
“Nothing.” He angled his body towards her and brushed a curl back behind her ear. “Just enjoy it, and if at any point ye want me to stop ye just say the word.” His mouth curved in a wolfish smile. “Even though I can promise ye that stopping will be the furthest thing from your mind.”
He began by kissing her. Just a soft, lingering brush of his lips across her lips. She attempted to kiss him back, but the self-doubt rushing through her head made her stiff and clumsy. Their noses bumped, then their teeth. Miserable and embarrassed she started to turn away, but Felix merely slid his hand behind her neck and deepened the kiss until she wasn’t thinking, she was only feeling.
The blanket slid out of her grasp and fell to her waist when he began to nibble at her ear, and her head fell back onto the pillow when his mouth skimmed down her throat. She did not panic when he began to tug at the bodice of her gown. Instead she rolled onto her side so he could pull at the stays, and then sat up with her legs dangling over the edge of the bed so he could peel her dress and chemise from her quivering body.
When her clothes were piled on the floor in a heap of satin and silk, he rose to his knees behind her and brought his hands around to her front, cupping her breasts and gently flicking his thumbs across her hard, pointed nipples.
A spark of bright, brilliant heat ignited between her thighs and on a throaty sigh she tilted her head back, sending her dark hair spilling across Felix’s bare chest. He kissed her throat. Her shoulder. When he twisted her around and kissed her mouth she yielded beneath the pressure of his tongue, and welcomed more heat as he slowly lowered her onto the mattress.
Pillows and blankets were pushed mindlessly aside. She arched her spine on a sharp, thrilled gasp as he drew first one aching nipple between his teeth and then the other, suckling and teasing until her gasp became a muffled cry.
Her body burned with need wherever he touched her, and when he kissed her on the lips against it was her fingers buried in his hair that dragged him there. He shifted his weight, sliding a leg across her silken thighs. His tongue swirled inside her mouth, tasting, possessing, claiming her with every stroke.
When his hand eventually found its way down to the curls that guarded her womanhood she did not even think of resisting. Nor did she lay passively beneath him as he dipped a single fingertip into the honeyed depths of her core, but rather dug her nails into the clenched muscles of his back and urged him on with tiny whimpers of pleasure.
She’d never felt sensations like these before. It was like feeling the warmth of the sun for the very first time. Or looking up at a midnight sky and seeing it lit with a million stars.
Every kiss was new. Every touch held meaning. Every glide of his finger in and out of her body brought her closer to a precipice she’d never even known existed.
He murmured wickedly carnal things in her ear as he mounted her, and with each word spoken her desire heightened until she was throbbing with need. All but sobbing with it. And then he was inside her, his long, hard length filling her, and she was clinging to him, and he was kissing her, and on the same desperate breath they both plunged over the cliff into stunning oblivion.
“I saw ye before I ever met ye.” Dawn was just breaking across the horizon as Felix toyed with a silky lock of Felicity’s hair. She laid tucked into the crook of his arm with her eyes closed and one slender arm thrown across his chest. “Did I ever tell ye that?”
“No.” She blinked drowsily up at him. “When?”
“Eight years ago at a ball.”
“Eight years ago…” Her eyes became more alert and he could all but see that quick mind of hers ticking back through the years. “That would have been before I was even married.” She frowned. “How did you know it was me?”
“Do ye really think I would ever forget this face?” He leaned down, nuzzled the side of her neck. But when his ardor stirred and he licked her earlobe the arm over his chest became noticeably heavier.
“Wait,” she protested, pushing him back when he would have begun nibbling along her collarbone.
“Wait?” he smirked. “That’s not what ye were saying ten minutes ago.”
She gave him a withering look before she sat up. “Where are all the blankets?”
“Dunno,” he said cheerfully as his gaze skimmed unabashedly across her naked breasts. “But I can’t say as I’m going to be looking for them anytime soon.”
Bloody ‘ell, but the woman was a vision. All long, graceful limbs and ivory skin still flushed red in places from their lovemaking. Her hair was tangled around her shoulders, the pins scattered across the floor. She was a mermaid brought to life. A fairy queen coaxed from the woodlands. A goddess descended from the heavens above.
“I cannot sit here in the nude,” she said, glaring at him as she hunched forward over her thighs and looped her arms around her bent knees. “It is not seemly.”
Felix did not bother to contain his snort. “What difference does it make if ye have on ten dresses or none a’tall? I’ve already seen every inch of ye.”
“But that was when it was dark.” She looked past him out the window to where the sun was slowly rising into a dull, gray sky. “It is daytime now. Or nearly.”
“I’ll let ye in on a secret, love.” Leaning towards her, he angled his head and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “I have excellent night vision.”
Her sigh was long and suffering, but she couldn’t quite disguise the amused twitch of her lips. “Have it your way, then. But I must know…what were you doing at a ball?”
“I was looking at Lady Dunmore’s jewelry.”
“Looking at it? Or stealing it?”
“Just taking a look.” His mouth stretched in a sly grin. “And maybe tucking a few of the finer pieces in my pocket for a rainy day.”
“Mr. Spencer!”
“Miss Atwood.”
“You really are incorrigible, aren’t you?”
He stroked a finger along her bare arm. “I can show you just how incorrigible I am right now if ye’d like.”
She ignored him. “I remember that ball. It was one of the first ones I ever attended. You really saw me there?”
“Aye. I was on my way out the door when I caught sight of ye across the room. Four dozen women and my eyes went straight to you.”
“I find that rather hard to believe.”
“Ye had on a white dress.”
“All of the debutantes were wearing white,” she pointed out.
“Ye had on a white dress,” he continued, undeterred by her skepticism, “with little pink roses on the sleeves and your hair was piled up on top of your head. Ye were wearing pearl earrings. And ye were the loveliest girl there.”
“You – you really did see me all those years ago.” She looked at him with amazement. “I can hardly believe it. Why didn’t you tell me before?”
Felix shrugged. “I suppose I was waiting for the right moment. And this seemed to be it.”
“I cannot believe our paths crossed all those years ago.” She shook her head. “How odd.”
“Ye can call it odd if ye like, but I prefer to think of it as fate.”
“Do you?”
“Aye.” Bracing his hands on the mattress, he leaned forward again and kissed her nose before he stood up. The last thing he wanted to do was leave Felicit
y – especially when she was naked in his bed – but his presence was required on Bow Street and he was already late. With the Slasher still on the loose the Captain was requiring all of his men to pull double shifts and he’d begun cracking down on tardiness. If Felix did not get moving quickly he was going to arrive just in time to receive a blustering reprimand. “Ye never stood a chance when it came to me, love.”
He felt Felicity watching him as he pulled a clean pair of trousers out of an antique chest of drawers and a linen shirt out of his closet. Dressing without fanfare, he splashed cold water on his face from a washbasin in the corner of the room before sitting down in a chair to pull on his socks and boots.
“Stay here for as long as ye like. When ye are ready to go there will be a hackney waiting outside.”
“I wish you did not have to leave,” Felicity said wistfully. “I wish – I wish this moment could go on forever. The both of us. Here. Isolated from the rest of the world. Although I do rather miss Henry and Anne.” Her pretty brow creased. “I’ve never been away from them before for more than a few hours.”
“It’s early yet. I’ve no doubt they’re still fast asleep dreaming of sugar plums and kittens.”
“Kittens? Why would they be dreaming of kittens?” Taking note of Felix’s guilty expression, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Mr. Spencer, what did you do?”
He rose from the chair and unhooked his coat from the back of the door. “I haven’t the faintest idea,” he said evasively.
“Mr. Spencer…”
The woman was like a bloody dog with a bone. Were their genders reversed, she would have made a damn fine Runner. “I may have promised them a kitten.”
“Mr. Spencer!”
“Each,” he muttered.
“A kitten each?” Felicity’s brows shot up. “Without consulting me first?”
“In my defense, they’re sneaky little buggers.” And when they’d looked up at him with their big eyes and innocent smiles, how could any man on earth not be expected to give them whatever it was their little hearts desired? If they’d asked him for a stable filled with prancing gray ponies he would have found a way to make it possible. Because he’d not only loved Felicity. Somehow along the way he’d fallen in love with Henry and Anne as well.
A Dangerous Proposal (Bow Street Brides Book 2) Page 21