“Good—good day, Mr. McGilvery,” she called out, shooting Henry a look as the other man left them alone. All alone. In his house with no servants. Without a chaperone of any kind.
And in that moment, recalling he was not the rake was proving more difficult than ever.
“I’m very sorry, I don’t know why he departed so swiftly,” Henry said as he motioned toward the settee by the fire. “May I make you tea?”
“Tea would take a while if your servants are not in residence,” she said.
“You doubt me?” he said with a smile. “I actually make very good tea, my lady.”
“I’m certain you do, scientist that you are. It is only that my time is limited. Perhaps some of that sherry instead?” She motioned toward the sideboard.
Henry nodded and brought out two pretty crystal sherry glasses. When he handed hers over, she immediately took a sip like she was girding herself for whatever was about to happen. He had so rarely seen Evangeline nervous, he almost feared the reason. Feared it had to do with that amazing kiss they’d shared the night before. He’d been trying so hard not to lose himself in thoughts of it.
“Your friend said something about your father,” she said, setting her glass aside and watching him as he took a place on the settee beside her.
He could have chosen any other seat in the room. But he hadn’t.
He cleared his throat and wished he could clear his mind so easily. “Er, yes. I wasn’t expecting the viscount, but feared it might be him when we heard the knock. I do not think he’d appreciate me hanging about with McGilvery and doing mathematics in my study.”
“Mr. McGilvery seems a nice enough fellow,” she said softly. “Your father would disapprove of him?”
“He isn’t titled, and you know better than most what a toady my father is. He doesn’t approve of anything ‘beneath me.’ He sees my work and anyone who joins me in it as that.”
She leaned a little closer, and his heart felt like it might explode from pounding so hard. “Henry—”
He took her hand. The motion silenced her, and she stared at their intertwined fingers for a beat that seemed to last a lifetime.
“Why are you here, Evangeline? I know it isn’t to make small talk with me about my friend or my father or tea or the weather or the price of ale.”
“You’re so certain I wouldn’t care about any of those things?”
He arched a brow. “You came here unannounced with no chaperone. It can’t have been for such mundane discussion.”
“You are so direct,” she mused, almost to herself. “I suppose that is in my favor. Henry, I did come here with a purpose. I wanted to talk about last night, about…the kiss.”
He pulled his hand from hers and got to his feet. As he paced away, he ran a hand through his hair and shoved at his spectacles, trying to find purchase. Here was the moment. The moment when she told him he ought never have let that kiss happen. The moment when all his little fantasies would be dashed.
“I recognize what I did was very wrong,” he began as he faced her with as much bravery as he could muster.
Her brow wrinkled. “What you did?”
“Kissing you.” He swallowed. “Thoroughly.”
She stared at him a moment and then she pushed to her feet. She took her time crossing to him, he thought that might be by design. But despite seeing the manipulation of her movements, he was still mesmerized by them. Step by step, she glided toward him, her dark blue gaze fixed on his. She held him in place with just a twitch of her hips, just a tilt of her smile. At last she reached him, nudging in far too close. Almost touching him.
And then she did touch him. She reached up, her bare fingertips skimming his cheek, his jawline and across his lower lip. It felt like fire when she did it, tingling, burning, wonderful fire that would consume him and he would love every moment of it. Even if it destroyed him in the end.
“I kissed you, Henry,” she reminded him. “And I have been able to think of little else since.”
His mouth dropped open. He was dreaming. That had to be it. He had fallen asleep over his figures and this was all a dream. A very vivid dream where he could smell Evangeline and feel her warmth seep through him despite her just coming in from the cold.
A dream where she was leaning up, lifting on her tiptoes, sliding that soft hand around the back of his neck. Their lips were less than a breath away and then their mouths met for the second time in as many days.
Both her arms came around his neck and he couldn’t help himself. He caught her waist, drawing her even closer.
No, this wasn’t a dream. Somehow it was fantasy come true. And just like the night before, he forgot reason and prudence and gentlemanly behavior. Everything but the pulsing need to taste Evangeline, to get drunk on her, to lose himself in her…everything else was gone.
He sank into the moment with abandon, driving his tongue past her parted lips, crushing her against his chest so he could feel the slopes and valleys of her curves mold to his own. She made a soft sound in the back of her throat, not of distress, not of refusal…it was a sound of pleasure. Of surrender.
Her hands clutched him closer, her fingers denting the muscles of his shoulders as he backed her toward the settee they had both abandoned. They fell onto it together, his body half covering her as he angled her head for better access and drove even deeper.
They were spiraling out of control now, her hips lifting beneath him perhaps without her knowing it. Her breath short, his too. And his body rapidly hardening to steel beneath his trousers. His mind screamed at him to recall himself, recall that he was a gentleman. All the while his blood burned at him, demanding he take, claim, pleasure, in a voice he didn’t even recognize because he had denied its existence for so long.
Still, the gentleman was strong in him, even if it was weakening by the moment. At last he pulled away, jolting to his feet and pivoting from her so the hard evidence of his arousal wouldn’t offend any more than his punishing mouth or hands already had.
“I’m sorry,” he panted. “I’m sorry.”
She was silent for a moment. For two. It felt like a lifetime. Then she said, “Henry, look at me.”
It was an order, given in the tone of voice of a woman who was not accustomed to being denied. And he didn’t deny her. He couldn’t. Slowly, he faced her and stared down.
Evangeline had sat up from the reclined position, but her hair was mussed, her lips red from kisses, her dress slightly crooked in the bodice and wrinkled from where they’d ground against each other in reckless abandon. She looked ravished even if she hadn’t been.
She made him want to finish the job.
“Evangeline—”
“Henry, if you apologize once more I will have my feelings hurt,” she teased, but he saw the truth of that statement in her eyes, flashing there with rare vulnerability before she controlled it as she seemed to control all else.
“I wouldn’t want to do that,” he murmured.
She tapped the settee beside herself. “Please come back.”
“That’s a dangerous proposition,” he said, staring at the small cushion so close to her own. “I’m not sure you know how dangerous.”
She held his gaze once more and then slowly let it lower to where his cock was still outlined, hard against the fabric of his trousers. “I think I know exactly how dangerous. Sit.”
He shook his head, but did it, drawn to her despite his own rational mind that knew the path this experiment could take. They were working with uncontrollable substances now. Explosions were imminent.
“I came here, as I said, because I can’t stop thinking about that kiss last night,” she said, her voice calm even if she kept worrying her hands in her lap. “And what I want, Henry…what I want…I want exactly what you want. I want more. I want to be pinned to this settee and have your hands on me. I want all the things those…those naughty books I’m not supposed to read describe. I want…I want you.”
Once again, he questioned whether
this was a dream, despite all the evidence that it wasn’t. Or perhaps he’d struck his head and this was something worse. He had a dozen questions. A hundred. He started with one.
“Wh-why?” he whispered.
Her eyes went wide, as if she hadn’t considered that he might question her. And why would she? Most men would simply jump at the opportunity to touch this woman. How many times had he heard the whispers about her beauty and allure? Whispers that always made him bristle, for reasons he hadn’t allowed himself to explore until…well, just until.
“I might not have the same level of experience as you do, but I certainly have the same longings,” she said, her tone becoming slightly more peppery. “Why should a lady not want desire or something wicked? You men get to do so at your pleasure.”
He drew back, for she seemed to view him in a light that wasn’t exactly accurate. And perhaps if she understood this, the world would go back to turning in the direction it was meant to turn, rather than this madness that now surrounded him.
“Evangeline, I have not…” He shifted. “I am not a rake, my lady. I have no experience in the delights I believe you are describing.”
Her lips parted. “Am I to understand that you are…you are a virgin?” she asked.
He nodded, though he felt blood heat his cheeks at the shock in her tone. Also at the directness with which they were addressing this sensitive subject.
“How is that possible?” She looked him up and down then repeated the question. “How is that possible?”
He shook his head at the way she asked that question. As if he had a dozen women falling at his feet. That was certainly not true. “I suppose men do have more freedom in these things and there is an expectation that men of a certain rank should cat around. God knows my brothers both do. But I…it never appealed to me.”
“At all?” she burst out, and there was a lilt of desperation to her tone.
He chuckled. “Well, I think we’ve already established that it isn’t at all. Certainly I have thoughts, desires, longings, as you described them. But I have enough control not to go chasing after every single thing that makes me…er…hard.”
She twisted her mouth. “I see. That puts a wrench in things.”
“A wrench in what?” he asked, watching as she stood and all but flounced to the fireplace. She turned there.
“Well, I came to seduce you,” she said, tossing up her hands.
“You did?”
She tilted her head. “Of course I did. Gracious, Henry, you’re very intelligent, do try to keep up.” She folded her arms. “Of course, I have little experience in this arena and apparently you know nothing either. So how would I even do that if you can’t guide us once we start?”
He lifted both brows. “I never said I didn’t know anything.”
She stared, confusion lining her expression. “What do you mean? How could you know anything if you haven’t done it?”
“I’m a scientist, Evangeline.” He got up, moving toward her because he couldn’t stop himself even if he should. She watched him, her breath catching with every step. “I haven’t experienced a great many things that I know to be true. I’m looking for a planet that has been nothing more than a rumor for hundreds of years. I can’t see it, but I believe it to be there. I’m an expert in its potential existence.” He stopped before her and reached out to trace her jaw, as she had done to him a few moments before. “I study my interests, my lady. And I have done a great deal of study on the topic we were just discussing.”
Her gaze narrowed and a half-smile tilted her lips. “Have you now? Oh, of course you have.” She rested a hand on his chest. “Well then, let me take this from another angle. Mr. Killam, you cannot be satisfied with only studying a subject in books, can you? As a scientist, would you not like to do some…some hands-on research of the topic?”
“What is the topic?” he asked, his breath coming short.
“You know the topic,” she whispered, those blue eyes burning up at him. “And I am offering to be your test subject. You see, I have also studied this particular subject extensively over the years.”
He dipped his head back with a groan. Damn it, but she tested him. She was asking for what amounted to ruination after years of mere friendship. He didn’t understand why. He didn’t understand it at all. And yet, he was a man, not a machine. He couldn’t just pretend that this suggestion, scandalously made, wasn’t so very tempting.
Couldn’t he take what she offered? Couldn’t he have this taste of utter heaven before he descended into the hell his father demanded? Didn’t he deserve that? And he didn’t have to ruin her, even though that was her request. He could do other things. Things he’d dreamed about doing to her. He had to be honest and admit they had always been dreams about her.
This was his only chance to pursue them.
He was still staring up at the ceiling, trying to figure out his answer when he felt the brush of her mouth on his exposed throat.
“Henry,” she whispered, the words making swishes against his skin. “Stop thinking and hypothesizing and collecting evidence and just…touch me.”
Chapter 9
Evangeline could hear the strength of her own voice, the certainty, and for that she was glad. Because she felt none of it. Not when Henry’s arms were around her and her body was responding in ways she hadn’t thought she’d ever feel. Ways that set her off kilter and made this plan feel much more dangerous and reckless. She was never reckless.
But she didn’t have much time to think about that. He cupped her chin, tilting it up toward him again, and his lips came down to hers. He made a low groan in his chest, a very masculine sound of possession and pleasure. Between her legs there was a pulse of sensation and she gasped as she fisted her hand against his chest.
Back to the settee he pushed her, but this time when they reached it, he didn’t collapse with her on the cushions. Instead, he stepped back. “May I undress you?” he asked.
Her lips parted in surprise. Once he’d capitulated to her demands, she had not expected him to need any more consent from her. This was a man’s domain of taking and claiming and all those silly things. And yet here he was, asking permission. Allowing her to keep some control. It made her want him, want this, all the more.
“Yes. Please,” she whispered, shocked at how shaky her voice was now.
“Turn around,” he murmured.
She did so and he leaned in, pressing his lips to the bit of exposed skin between where her hair was bound and the top of the back of her dress. She jolted at the contact, her breath rasping out in a gasp.
He began to unbutton her dress. God, there were too many buttons. So many damned buttons, why had she worn the dress with all the buttons? Still, he made away with them, his fingers stroking the fine, silky chemise beneath. She struggled with the dress, pushing at it. This was about the claiming, and she wanted it now more than ever. For more than just her plan. She wanted to feel it.
To her surprise, he caught her arms and gently held them at her sides. “Don’t rush, Evangeline,” he said. “This is a first time for both of us—we should savor it.”
His words reverberated at the side of her neck, against the sensitive skin there, and she closed her eyes, leaning back against him as a part of her surrendered. But the rest of her fought. Fought to keep this experience in the realm of her plan. Fought to keep her from losing herself. She didn’t want to lose herself.
“We have little time,” she said, forcing herself to open her eyes again and stare straight ahead. “So little time.”
“We have enough time not to rush through this. What is the point of living if we don’t live?”
He turned her toward him and hooked his fingers around the shoulders of her gown. As he held her gaze, he tugged and the fabric folded down over her chest, her stomach, her waist. Another tug and it pooled at her feet, leaving her in only her underclothes.
Everything in her told her to yank the dress back up. To run. Not because she didn’
t want this, but because she hadn’t fully considered the intense vulnerability of it. And she wasn’t even naked. According to those naughty books, she was going to have to be naked and so would he.
Of course, the part where he stripped down seemed more…interesting.
He reached for her a second time, but she stepped out of the way. His brow furrowed with concern. “You’ve changed your mind? It’s fine, you know. We can—”
“I haven’t changed my mind,” she interrupted, shocked again by the fact that he was not trying to rend control from her grasp. “I only think it isn’t fair that I’m standing before you in my chemise and you are fully clothed.”
“Ah, a quid pro quo then,” he said, nodding his head seriously even as his eyes twinkled. “Let me even the score, my lady.”
He was already somewhat in disarray, his shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal those surprisingly muscular forearms she had been so distracted by earlier. It didn’t take long for him to unwrap the cravat around his neck, dropping it aside. She caught her breath as he moved his hands to the four linen buttons that held his crisp shirt at the chest.
She could scarcely breathe as he loosened them, then tugged the long cotton fabric from his waistband and over his head in one fluid, graceful motion.
Her world stopped. She had always thought Henry handsome. He had an angular face, with beautiful lines and sharp eyes behind those spectacles. But she had not pictured…this beneath this clothing. He was all lean muscle and smooth lines. Not a fighter’s body or a warrior’s body. In past times Henry would not have wielded the heavy broad sword on the battlefield. He would have been the one in command.
Once again her body clenched at emptiness as she drank him in. What was she getting herself in to?
“You are suddenly pale,” he said, catching her hand. “May I get you your drink?”
She shook her head, speechless, and that was a rare enough occurrence. Finally she managed to squeak out, “I simply have not ever seen a man so…so undone before.”
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