by Eva Leigh
Grace’s face turned more pink, but she didn’t contradict him. Praised be.
“Yes. Yes!” Mrs. Argyle embraced Grace and then did the same to Seb. “So glad she picked you,” she whispered in his ear.
“Me, too,” he whispered back, and, following an impulse, kissed Mrs. Argyle’s cheek.
“Here, you’ve your own lady for that,” Mr. Argyle exclaimed jovially. “I’ll see mine home.”
Moments later, Seb and Grace were finally on their own. She gazed up at him through her lashes.
“My family believes me to be on the ship bound for Greenland,” she murmured. “Which means we aren’t expected anywhere.”
His entire body caught fire. “Have the whole day to ourselves.”
“Whatever shall we do with the time?” Her voice went low and husky.
Seb fought to keep from groaning aloud. Fortunately, he still had a penny, so he tossed the coin to a nearby boy. “Watch our things. We’ll be back . . . later . . . for them.”
“Aye, sir,” the boy piped.
Seb reached down and clasped Grace’s hand in his. The press of her palm to his arrowed sensation through him, and he drew in a deep breath. “I believe I spotted an inn not fifty yards from here.”
Heat flared in her eyes. “Hurry.”
It took no time at all to reach the inn, though each step seemed longer than a football pitch. As far as accommodations went, the inn was short on charm, but it appeared clean and well maintained, and so long as it had a bedchamber, that was all that signified.
“Room for the newlyweds?” the innkeeper asked as Seb and Grace crossed the threshold.
“Please,” Grace said.
It didn’t escape Seb’s notice that she didn’t correct the innkeeper’s assumption. “Send up a bath, as well.”
The older man handed Seb a key. “Got a room upstairs on the left. Most everyone’s out for the day so . . .” He waggled his brows. “Can be as loud as ye like.”
“Appreciate the suggestion.” Seb couldn’t find it in himself to feel any embarrassment. He only wanted Grace. For this day and every day after.
Together, they climbed the creaking stairs. His hand shook as he tried to fit the key into the lock. God, but he was eager. After taking a steadying breath, he finally managed to unlock the door, and opened it.
They were inside a heartbeat later, locking up behind them. The details of the room barely registered—a simple bed, a nightstand, shuttered windows letting in soft light—before he could wait no longer, and pressed his body to hers against the closed door. Their mouths found each other, hot and demanding, open with desire. He stroked his hands everywhere—along the curve of her cheek, down her neck, over her breasts, cupping her waist—and she did the same to him. Only when she caressed him did he realize how dormant he’d been, because every part of him roared to life at her touch.
Yet . . .
She stepped back. “Please,” she gasped, when he reached for her. “I must apologize first.”
“For what?”
“For being such a sodding idiot,” she said with a shake of her head. “I complained that Mason didn’t see me, but I didn’t see you. I was stubborn and selfish, and it took far too long for me to realize how much I undervalued you. My wise, funny, generous Sebastian.”
She wiped at the tears that traced down her cheeks. “Here I was, angry with your father for failing to appreciate you, and I went and did the same thing. I hope,” she continued, “you might forgive me someday. Lord knows I don’t merit forgiveness.”
He exhaled, and gave a little nod. He couldn’t pretend that she hadn’t hurt him—she deserved the full truth.
“It’s not complete absolution,” she said with a tremulous smile, “but I’m willing to work for it. Willing to work for you.”
“I was . . .” He cleared his throat. “I ought to have said something to you, about how I felt. I didn’t want you to think that I was your friend because I wanted something from you. Truth is, I was happy to be with you, however I could. And I never dared hope that you could love me.” His jaw tensed as he tried to hold back his own tears, but there was no harm in showing his emotions. So when a few drops fell from his eyes, he didn’t try to hide them.
“I do, Sebastian.” She went to him and looped her arms around his neck, then kissed his wet cheeks. “I do love you. And it’s my intention to spend the rest of my life doing exactly that. If you’ll let me.”
“My lady,” he said gravely, curving his hands around her waist, “not only will I let you, I plan to spend the rest of my life loving you in return.”
He lowered his head to kiss her just as she raised up to meet his lips with her own. Sweetness gave way to heat within moments, their mouths opening to take great, greedy drafts of each other. His hips thrust against hers, and he growled when she widened her stance to bring him closer.
“I can’t wait for you any longer,” she whispered between kisses. “Take me to bed. Now.”
There was a knock at the door, making Seb snarl. “Got your bath,” the innkeeper said, his words muffled.
Yes. Seb very much needed that bath. He unlocked then opened the door, and the innkeeper trundled in, bearing a wooden tub. A lad and a girl carried buckets of steaming water, which they poured into the tub. The girl pulled a bar of soap from her apron pocket and left it on the tub’s edge. She also set a towel on the washstand.
“Be back later to pick everything up,” the innkeeper said with a wink. He shooed the lad and girl out of the room before taking his own leave.
When the innkeeper had gone, Seb locked the door once more and turned to Grace. “Hope you can wait five minutes more. Three weeks of wandering leave a man less than sparkling.”
“By all means. But first.” She turned her back to him, and said over her shoulder, “The hooks. I want to be naked so that, once you’ve had your bath, there’s no more dallying.”
Never had his hands trembled as much as they did then. But he mastered himself enough to undo the fastenings. The gown slid from her body as she stepped out from it. He could have gladly spent the next five years admiring her in her underclothes, but she made quick work of them, including her shift and stockings. A moment later, she stood before him, naked.
“Damnation, but you’re so beautiful,” he rasped. She was all things soft and silken, the fulfillment of his dreams. He stroked his fingertips over the bow of her collarbone, and was rewarded by her sharp inhalation and closed eyes.
Yet she didn’t shut her eyes for long. “Let me see you, too,” she said throatily.
Never had he stripped so quickly. In seconds, he was nude.
Her gaze went straight to his upright cock, which jerked as if she’d actually touched him. A look of fierce hunger crossed her face, but her expression softened as she took in the rest of him.
“You haven’t been taking care of yourself,” she lamented as she touched the shape of his ribs, all too prominent in his thin body. “You should love yourself, as I love you.”
“Say it again.” His pulse hammered, and pleasure erupted through him at her words.
She closed the distance between them. Nothing had ever felt so good as her naked body against his, her lushness tight to his spare form. He ringed his arms around her.
“I love you, Sebastian.”
He went still, absorbing that simple but so complex phrase. A few words that contained the entirety of his happiness.
“I love you, Grace. I’ll spend my whole life showing you how much I love you.” He brought his lips to hers. “Let me show you.”
“Yes.”
It took titanic effort to break the kiss so he could bathe. But when he sank into the water, she stood behind him and took hold of the soap. “Permit me,” she murmured.
He held himself still as she dipped the soap into the water, then she used it to stroke down his arms and across his chest. His skin was delectably sensitive beneath her touch, and he groaned aloud as her hands moved over his body. She knea
ded his sore muscles and caressed him with just enough pressure to make him growl. When she leaned down to wash his groin and thighs, her breasts pressed into his back.
“Jesus God, Grace,” he said roughly. But when he tried to wrap his arms around her, she pulled away and held up an admonishing finger.
“Not yet,” she said pertly. “You aren’t fully clean. There are some parts of you that need more attention.”
“I guarantee you, there’s nothing that— Fuck.”
He could say no more as she reached down to take his erection in her hand. His head tilted back and he gripped the sides of the tub as she pumped her fist up and down his aching cock. Ecstasy shot through him, blinding him to everything but the feel of her pleasuring him.
“Stop, stop,” he panted when his climax loomed. “When I come, I want to come in you.”
“I can deny you nothing,” she said breathlessly.
“Wait for me on the bed.”
“So commanding,” she said saucily. Then, her cheeks turning pink, she said, “I like it.” She hurried to perch on the edge of the bed.
He stepped from the bath and toweled off. Then he climbed onto the bed and edged toward the headboard, where he leaned back, his legs stretched out before him. He opened his arms, and Grace went immediately to him. She straddled him, her hands holding tightly to his shoulders. They both groaned at the feel of his cock against her slickness.
In this position, they could look into each other’s eyes, and their gazes locked together as he shifted enough to position the tip of his cock at her entrance. He went motionless, demanding patience of himself, as he stared into the depths of her eyes. Love gazed back at him, boundless love.
The last time he and Grace had had sex, it had been in a darkened barn, almost entirely clothed. But now, they were naked in every way, fully present, nothing furtive or illicit. This was their moment, completely theirs, unabashed and unashamed.
He gripped her hips. Then, with one sure motion, plunged up into her.
“Ah, God.” He groaned. Her heat surrounded him, clasping him deep inside her as he sank all the way in.
“Sebastian,” she breathed.
Don’t move, he told himself. Never move. Make this last forever.
Yet she had other plans. Her hips rose and fell, thrusting against him. Sensation, brighter than all the stars, shot through his body. She moved again, and again, and despite his wish for an eternity of stillness inside her, he could not stop himself from driving in and out, chasing ecstasy with her.
She ground into him as she seemed to lose herself to the demands of her body. He watched the loveliness of her face as her mouth opened and a flush spread over her skin and then—
She came, her body tensing around him. And unlike the last time they’d done this, she freed herself to cry out fully. The sound was gorgeous, throaty and abandoned. Nothing on this Earth held the beauty of her noise of total surrender to pleasure.
Yet he wanted more. More for her. For him. So he worked his hand between them to stroke her clitoris. She went taut as another climax hit her.
“This is what I want,” he rumbled. “Only this. My cock in you as you come.”
“I—” Whatever she intended to say was lost as yet one more orgasm shook her. It went on and on, until she tipped her head so that their foreheads touched and her breath was warm over his face.
His whole body shuddered, demanding release.
“Come,” she gasped. “Come in me, Sebastian.”
The last filament of his restraint snapped. He thrust hard, making her cry out, and then release exploded. He growled her name as he was caught in the tempest of pleasure, letting its storm course through him without cessation.
He couldn’t stop moving his hips, even after he’d spent the last droplets of his seed. But then his body surrendered, and he and Grace sank down to lie upon the bed. They wrapped themselves together tightly as vines.
Surely, he’d never known such happiness. This was the upper extent of its limit.
“Marry me,” she whispered.
He was wrong. Because now, he reached the pinnacle of bliss.
But he must have fallen silent, stunned into muteness by joy, because a moment later she asked, “Sebastian? Say something. You’re worrying me.”
“Nothing to fear, love.” He kissed her, long and deep. “The answer is yes. From the moment I first saw you at the library with your head bent over a book and a smile on your face, my answer has always been yes.”
Epilogue
Three months later
“Let me see the list again.” Grace reached across the table for the notebook and Sebastian placed it immediately in her hand. She scanned the names, nodding with satisfaction.
Everyone on the list was the top in their field. They were the best natural philosophers with areas of expertise in flora, fauna, geography, geology, and, since Sebastian was himself on the list, anthropology. Jane and Douglas would represent the study of astronomy.
More than half of their upcoming expedition to South America would include female natural philosophers. Sebastian and Grace had been approached by the Dowager Countess of Farris, searching them out to head the field division of her new foundation. It was Lady Farris’s intention that her foundation would serve as a kind of watchdog, to report on damage done by England’s fervor for empire and expansion.
The countess had provided funds for Grace and Sebastian to lead their own expedition, and was quite encouraging of the fact that many women would be part of the group. In addition to supplying funding from her own coffers, Lady Farris had quietly located a number of wealthy women to contribute more capital.
The expedition’s intention was to report on indigenous cultures, as well as to make recommendations on the preservation of the habitats and creatures it encountered.
“I believe that’s everyone,” Sebastian murmured. He kept his voice low out of consideration for the other patrons of the Benezra Library, which had just recently added the volumes she and Sebastian had published about their findings about declining traditions and habitations. Only last week, they had been invited to speak at three private gatherings of those with an interest in the sciences.
Sebastian said, “You’ve done your work well.”
“We have.” She smiled at her husband, seated across from her. “It’s always been something we’ve shared.”
“There’s something I’d like to show you in the stacks.” He removed his spectacles and tucked them into his coat pocket.
“Mr. Holloway,” she said crisply. “Do put your spectacles back on.”
“Why, Mrs. Holloway?” Yet even as he asked this, he replaced his glasses.
“Because, my beloved husband, I adore you when you don’t wear them, and I love you even more when you do.”
The smile he gave her could melt a glacier. But she had enough presence of mind to ask him, “Is your intention to show me a new monograph on the breeding habits of Southern European amphibians?”
“You’ll see.” He rose and extended a hand to her. When she got to her feet, she wove her fingers with his—somehow, she still felt that crackle of excitement whenever they touched—and together they walked past the circulation desk.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Holloway, Mr. Holloway,” Mr. Okafor whispered as they went by.
She waved in greeting, but clearly, Sebastian was on a mission because he didn’t slow his steps. Not until they reached the stacks, standing in the section that held works on engineering. He stopped, and she did the same.
Glancing around, she tried to make sense as to why her husband would believe there was something of interest to her in this particular area of the library.
When she looked up to ask precisely that, her question was abruptly cut short by his kiss. His hand cradled her jaw, and his lips were tender and urgent against hers. At once, she sank into the kiss, her body always craving him.
A flicker of sense roused her to break the kiss long enough to murmur, “A fine pl
ace to seduce your willing wife.”
“It’s where we met,” he said, his eyes gleaming. “Where I lent you a pencil and then my life truly began.”
Her whole self went supple. There was no one like him, and she counted herself the most fortunate woman in the known world to have such a man as her husband.
“My love,” she said, sliding her arms around his neck, “with you beside me, I cannot wait for what’s next.”
Acknowledgments
Every book I write is the product of many hands’ labor. Without the help, encouragement, and all-round badassedness of some incredible people, my work would be a pale shadow of what you hold in your hands now.
Thank you, firstly, to Nicole Fischer, who always puts smiley faces in her editorial notes, even when she and I both know that there will be major revisions ahead. Thank you to the Avon Books PR team for their incredibly hard work, and to the Avon Books Art Department, who has given me the covers I have dreamed about since I became a romance author.
Thank you to Kevan Lyon, my tireless agent, and Patricia Nelson, who is graciousness personified.
Much gratitude to Fran Strober Cassano for her willingness to do research deep dives. I am also grateful to Sally Jennings, Rachel Bond, Sarah Loch, and the invaluable input from my beta readers, Caroline Linden, Megan Frampton, and Victoria Dahl—who rightly reminded me that even heroes have to take baths.
I’m especially thankful for the input of Dr. Gregory Pauly, PhD, Curator, Herpetology and Co-Director of the Urban Nature Research Center, Natural History Museum of Los Angeles County. Thank you, as well, to Polly Lasker, Reference Librarian, Smithsonian Libraries. I tried hard to make my science factual, but any inaccuracies are entirely my own.
By the time this book comes out, I will most likely have said goodbye to my sweetest boy, my mischief maker, my jester and chirping bird of a cat, Whiskey. You filled my days with joy and laughter, and I will hold you in my heart forever.
My earliest days as a writer came from writing Duran Duran fan fiction back in the sixth grade, and now here I am, over three decades later, still writing while listening to Seven and the Ragged Tiger—and I owe it to you, dear reader. Thank you for making this ’80s girl’s dreams come true. You are, in the truest sense of the word, awesome.