“I told you I study,” he said, dipping his head to stroke his cheek up the inside of one thigh. “I read books, I saw images, and once I was with you, once I could watch your reaction, I adjusted to you. This is for you, after all.”
His hands settled on her knees and he pushed, opening her wider, making the gap in her drawers part so he could see her at last. Just as perfect as the last time, dewy wet for him already, scented with earthy sweetness. He reached out a finger and traced the length of her sex, loving how she arched against his hand and nearly pushed him inside.
She gripped at the edge of the settee and stared at him, her brow furrowed like she was trying to cling to whatever control she had left. “And why didn’t…why don’t you…” She gasped again as he stroked again. “Why don’t you take me? I’m yours, we’re engaged.”
He smiled at her, at the eagerness she was trying to hide by couching the question in terms of him. “Because you are not mine. We aren’t married. Life is not predictable, and I would not leave you in a worse position if something happened that would prevent our union. Society’s obsession with a maidenhead may make no sense to me, but it does to those in power. I wouldn’t disadvantage you.”
Her lips parted and then she reached out, cupping his chin and tilting his face toward his. Her jaw was set, her face pink as she jolted against his fingers. But she managed to whisper, “I want to touch you, Henry. Even if we cannot do the other, I don’t want to be a mere receiver. Isn’t there something I can do to make your experience better?”
He caught her hips and dragged her forward on the settee, opening her wider to him as he licked his lips in anticipation. “Trust me, Evangeline, there is nothing lacking in my experience when I do…this…”
Chapter 14
Evangeline’s hips lifted as Henry’s mouth settled firmly on that spot between her legs. Pleasure flowed through her, starting with the tip of his tongue and making its way through her body until she felt limp and warm and tingling from head to toe. He did that with a few mere swipes of his tongue, and this time he knew more about what she wanted. He used that knowledge against her…or for her? It was hard to tell the difference as he swirled his tongue around and around her clitoris until one hand bunched in the settee cushions while she pressed the other hard against her lips so she wouldn’t call the house down with her sounds of pleasure.
He watched her while he licked, his gaze bright beneath his spectacles as he tasted and teased, drove inside of her clenching channel and always returned his attention to the tingling bud of nerves where she wanted him most.
It didn’t take long for the desire to crescendo and her hips jerked as pleasure-pain rocked her, too swift, too intense, too powerful. He rested a hand on the fabric gathered around her belly and forced her to ride through his ministrations until she whispered his name in a plea for respite.
When he did stop licking her, he looked up at her with a wicked smile that twisted her stomach in knots. Still, she beckoned him up to her, forgetting her worries as she drew him in for a long, deep kiss. She tasted herself on his mouth and loved it, craved it, ached for it in ways she never could have imagined she would do.
He broke from her, helping her push her skirts down as she sat up and made a place for him beside her. She cuddled into his shoulder and she sat there for a moment. She could once again see the outline of his cock against his trousers. He denied her, but right now she needed a little control back.
Slowly she reached out and placed her palm on the hard ridge of him. He jerked beneath her with a sharp exhalation of breath, and she glanced up to see his face. It was taut with need, his pupils dilated wide as he watched her hand pet over him a second time.
Their gazes met and then he reached down and unbuttoned the placard of his trousers. His cock bobbed free from the confinement and bumped her hand. She gasped as she caught it. It was silk on steel and it filled her palm as she stroked him from base to tip.
“Evangeline,” he grunted, his head lolling back against the cushions.
She liked that sound. The sound of him pleading out her name. It almost erased the fact that she had done the same with a moment before. There was power in that. And power in the fact that when she stroked him, his neck muscles tightened and his fists clenched open and shut in the rhythm of her strokes.
She wasn’t exactly certain what to do next, but then again, he had learned how to touch her by doing it. She could do the same. She increased her strokes over him, gliding her hand until he tensed and then slowing down again. A sound came deep in his throat as he lifted his hips to force a cadence.
She obeyed because she liked the sounds he made when she stole his strength and control. She liked the hardness of his lips as they pursed together in concentration. And she liked how he cried out softly and then pushed her hand away as thick ropes of liquid escaped his cock.
He stroked himself a few times and then flopped back with a curse that echoed in the room.
Smug, she settled her shoulder back against his. “Now we’re even,” she said.
He lifted his head a little as he tucked himself back in place. “Were we counting something here, Evangeline? I’m not certain that is how it works. I could make you come a dozen times and not feel you owed me something in return. Though if you are going to unman me, I will never argue against it. That was…that was far more enjoyable with your hand working me than with only my own.”
She turned herself slightly and met his gaze. “You keep acting like life is not a quid pro quo, Henry, but you must know you’re wrong. Everyone counts their costs, everyone expects payment for whatever they receive. They may not say it, but they do. And you must always be ready to pay the piper when he arrives.”
“You are so jaded,” he murmured, lifting a finger to trace her kiss-swollen lips gently. “I hate that your life has taught you that.”
She jerked to her feet and walked away, not wanting his comfort. Hating that she did want it even though she knew it was dangerous.
“You are afraid,” he said.
She pivoted with an unsteady laugh. “Me? Please do not sport with me, of course I’m not.”
“You are,” he said but stayed in his place, not chasing her or pushing her. “I understand why. A few weeks ago, we were friends. Now there is…there’s this between us. There could be more. If there’s more to gain, that means there’s more to lose.”
She stared at him, his words so powerful and yet said so calmly. They weren’t a question—they were a statement of fact. And she found herself nodding. “Yes.”
His eyes widened a little that she would admit as much, and now it was too late to take it back. Too late to pretend she hadn’t said it or felt it. She could sense the promise of more, exactly as he said. But she had seen the damage such a promise, when unfulfilled, could create.
He stood up at last and moved toward her. “What if we could be something more than friends? What if I could offer you more than orgasm and independence, Evangeline?”
“I don’t want more,” she whispered, panicking but unable to turn away when he took her hand and lifted it slowly to his heart.
“You’re afraid of more. That’s not the same as not wanting more,” he said, his gaze holding hers so steady and so certain. “What if I could give you that, those things you’ve feared to crave?”
“I don’t know,” she said, her breath short and tears stinging her eyes. “I have never seen that work out.”
He tilted his head as if considering her opinion. “But what about all those recent love marriages, Evangeline?” When she caught her breath, he rushed to add, “We may not be there yet, I know.”
She flinched, uncertain why that caveat felt like a little twist to her heart. “Even the love matches don’t last, do they? Lord and Lady Fitzwallis were a love match. He was publicly unfaithful with her friend and she was humiliated and socially damaged.”
He frowned. “Yes, I recall that.”
“Miss Regina Black thought her marriage
to the Honorable Richard Holland was a love match, enough that she defied her father’s wishes that she marry a duke. She was cut off by her family and then Mr. Holland ran off to the continent with a maid.”
“Also true.” He was wrinkling his brow now, furrowed so deep that she had to believe she was convincing him.
“And then there’s—” She stopped, cut herself off. If she gave her next example, that would be too revealing of her own heart. He already saw her fear, she didn’t want to tell him why. She didn’t trust enough in what he offered to do so.
“Who?” he pressed, gently squeezing her fingers.
She pulled her hand away and walked to the fire. “I’m just saying I could list a dozen off in my head.”
“You are presenting evidence to support your hypothesis that love matches don’t work,” he said. “And I understand why and appreciate the examples. But you cannot pick and choose the evidence you believe. What about Lord and Lady Ribbonworth? Two years ago their love match was all the talk of London. Still married and he scandalizes the world when he kisses her in full view of the public. He dotes on the woman.”
Evangeline sighed. “I suppose I can think of other stories like theirs, yes.”
“But the frightening ones mean more,” he said. “I understand.”
“You do?” She blinked at him.
“You’ve guarded your independence carefully over the years. I appreciate that about you. I always have.”
“What?” she asked, confused about this turn in the conversation. In the look in his eyes, like he was certain and afraid at the same time.
“Evangeline, you must understand I have always admired you.” He swallowed. “How deeply I care for you.”
She jerked back a step, nearly depositing herself on her backside as if staggering away would help her escape what he’d just confessed and how that confession wound its way into her heart and her soul and made her ache to rush to him and take it. Take him. Take everything.
“Please,” he said as he caught her hand and forced her to remain in place. “Let me finish. I need to tell you everything and then we can decide our next step.”
There was no way any intelligent man could look at Evangeline’s pale face and not see her abject terror. It was palpable as she stared at Henry and more genuine than any emotion she’d ever revealed to him before. But there had been one thing he realized as they connected so powerfully…as he tried to convince her to want more…and that was that he didn’t just care for Evangeline. He didn’t just want her.
He loved her.
It hadn’t hit him like a thunderbolt, it hadn’t rocked him to his core. The thought had flitted through his mind as she tried to convince him against love matches and it had just been…true.
Not only that, but the feeling didn’t seem new. It was as if he’d always felt it and only just discovered there was a name for the reason why his heart leapt when she spoke to him or why he sought out her face in every crowd. Of course he loved her. He had always loved her.
And he wanted a future, a real future. But that would take risk on his part and enormous patience because he recognized she couldn’t risk anything herself. At least not yet.
“Henry—” she began, her tone telling him she was desperately working to rebuild those walls she so expertly erected between herself and anyone who might let her down.
“All I am asking is that you let me prove myself,” he interrupted.
She froze, staring at him. Then she shifted gently. “Prove what?”
It was a good sign, that curiosity. An indication she hadn’t eliminated all chance before they even began. He drew a long breath.
“That this thing between us, this thing that so frightens you—” He cupped her cheek and she shuddered. “—it could be good. It could be happy. It could be more.” He smiled. “It could be the shining example some other hapless gentleman holds up to convince an uncertain lady that love matches do exist.”
Her eyes fluttered shut. “Oh, Henry, that is quite a leap of faith.”
He touched her chin with the tip of his finger and she opened her eyes. “Or you could see it as an experiment. A way to test the hypothesis that this could work.” He smiled again, and this time a flutter of her own smile was his reward.
She worried her lip a little, and it made him want to kiss it and nip it himself, but he held back. Push too far and she would run and perhaps never let him close enough to propose this again.
“You are so comfortable trying and testing and…and failing.” She held up her hands almost helplessly. “Henry, my nature is to need to know.”
Every word she spoke was further evidence of a pain she didn’t reveal to anyone in her world. He took them carefully, reverently, in the hopes that he might one day use those pieces to fill the holes of fear that kept her distant.
“You risk nothing,” he offered. “Keep yourself under control as you have, as you do and have done your whole life. Give only what you feel you want to share. Let me prove my theory to you. Let me give you evidence, like I’ve given you pleasure.” She shivered just a little and he drew her a fraction closer. “You didn’t believe that kind of pleasure could exist, but I did give it, didn’t I?”
“You know you did,” she huffed out, sounding more herself.
“Then please trust me this little bit. If you don’t end up believing me or it turns out you don’t care for me at all, then your marriage of convenience will play out just the same as we originally discussed. We will be nothing more than friends, with separation and independence. I won’t expect or demand emotion. I’ll only give you pleasure if you desire it.”
She looked confused by the offer, as if it hadn’t occurred to her that failure in this case was only a return to their original bargain. Which he would surrender to if he lost this war, though knowing his heart and being rejected would not be easy. But he couldn’t think of that now.
He had to think about what would happen if he could convince her to let him in. To let him love her and hope she could love him in return.
She nodded slowly and his heart leapt. “All—all right.”
“Yes?” he asked, uncertain if he was dreaming after all that battle to get to this moment.
“Yes,” she repeated.
He tugged her closer and pressed his mouth to hers. She wound her arms around his neck and clung to him, letting him in physically as she swore she couldn’t emotionally. But that was a start and he wouldn’t let go of the hope it gave him.
He drew back at last and steadied her on her feet. “I look forward to this experiment, my lady,” he said with a grin.
She shook her head. “God help me for admitting it, but so do I.” She glanced toward the door. “But now we should go back to the ball. Someone will be looking for us, and I would hate for a scandal to disrupt all your careful plans.”
He offered an arm without argument, because he could see that she needed the escape. That letting him in as far as she had was uncomfortable. But if science had taught him anything, it was how to be patient.
And if patience led to a real marriage with Evangeline, he was willing to do whatever that took. However long it took it.
Chapter 15
It had been almost three weeks since the engagement ball and Henry still felt like he was walking through a dream. He had feared his days would be boring since he couldn’t work, but Evangeline had filled his time effortlessly. Thinking of her, planning things for her and spending time with her as he slowly, gently tried to show her that their future was worth trying for.
He thought he was succeeding too. Just one night prior she had stood on a terrace with him during a party and reached out to take his hand. She’d told him she was happy, and it was like someone had lit the world ablaze with marvelous color.
Such a simple thing, but it brought so much pleasure to his life.
“Pardon me, Mr. Killam?”
He glanced up from the letter he hadn’t been paying attention to as he daydreamed of Evange
line and smiled at his butler. “Yes, Deacon, what is it?”
“You have a visitor, sir.”
“Evangeline?” Henry asked as he jumped to his feet. She often made the little walk across the park to meet with him. They’d taken many a stroll around the frozen lake and even tried ice-skating with friends. He had never enjoyed the pleasures of the winter more.
Deacon shook his head. “No, sir. Not this time. It is Mr. McGilvery.”
“Oh.” Henry shook away the disappointment that shouldn’t have accompanied the announcement of his friend. “Please show him in.”
He moved to the sideboard and poured them each a sherry, and smiled as Donovan entered the room a moment later. His smile fell when he saw Donovan’s expression. Dark, concerned, frustrated.
“What is it?” he asked, setting the drinks aside as McGilvery closed the door behind him.
Donovan shook his head. “The better question is, where have you been?”
Henry held up his hands. “The moratorium on my participation at the society stands until my wedding to Evangeline is complete, you know that. I wrote it to you in that letter.”
“I never thought you’d go through with that nonsense!” McGilvery said, flopping into the closest chair. “Don’t you care about the research? You know we were close to obtaining a new patronage before you went off to seduce your bride.”
Henry nodded. Donovan had said something about that what felt like a lifetime ago. Patrons for the cause of science were always good to find. They were about more than money—they were about respectability for the field, about expanding the knowledge.
“Who was it again?” Henry asked. “Some merchant, yes?”
“Grayson Danford, but he’s not a merchant. He’s…I suppose an investor. Interested in the application of science. He wants some more data, though, and I’m stuck on an equation. I cannot for the life of me figure it out. I need your help, Henry.”
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