Chapter Eighteen

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

N ATHAN LET OUT a shaky breath. "I don't know."

"You don't want me?" Verity raised an eyebrow.

"No. God, no. I want you. But I don't want your pity. I don't want you to...just because you feel sorry for me."

"Well, now you're just being daft." Verity had wanted to lose herself in Nathan. To ignore all that had happened today. She had wanted to give Nathan comfort, wanted to take away her own worries, if just for a little while. And when he had kissed her so softly, she would have tossed away her doubts and taken him to her bed just for that.

But when he had sat back instead of trying to seduce her with her own sympathy—in that instant, Verity had known . It wasn't about drowning out her swirling thoughts or even about making Nathan happy. Verity felt fairly certain that she would at some point have exactly the opposite effect on him.

Nor did it matter what might happen, how this affair might end, or whether her heart would break. The only thing that was important was being with Nathan. She wanted to melt him with her kisses, to make him groan with desire. She wanted to feel his breath on her neck as he moved within her. To know that she drove him to distraction in the same way he did her.

Nathan couldn't be hers in the future. But right now, at this time and this place, he was.

She gazed into his eyes—those heart-melting, good intention–destroying eyes—and murmured, "Make love to me, Nathan."

He smiled then, a lazy, sensual, almost smug smile, and his hands slid over her dress slowly, up her thighs and onto her torso, moving with a deliberateness that made her ache for more and at the same time filled her with such pleasure that she wanted it to last forever. Nathan cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing over the fabric lightly, teasing her nipples into hardness. Verity leaned her head back, arching her chest against his hands.

She heard him suck in a little breath, and she looked down at him. His eyes were dark with desire, a flush rising in his face, but still his fingers moved languidly on her, slipping beneath the neckline of her dress to tease at her bare flesh. Two could play at that game. She circled her hips against him. Light flared in his eyes, and he shot up, one hand curving around the back of her neck, and kissed her.

And then, with a twist of his body, Verity was on her back, and he was kissing her as if there was nothing in the world but her mouth and this moment and the hunger that roared through them. He kissed her mouth, her cheek, her throat, his hands tangling in her hair. His lips moved across her skin, exploring her throat, working downward to the swell of her breasts above her dress.

Verity's hands slid under his jacket, but it wasn't good enough. Wasn't close enough. She wanted to feel Nathan's skin beneath her fingers, to learn each contour and line of him. Frustrated, she tugged at his neckcloth, undoing the intricate folds, then moved on to the buttons of his waistcoat. Why did gentlemen wear so very many clothes?

She pulled at the ties of his shirt, and there, at last, she found what she sought. His flesh was warm and smooth, and it jumped a little beneath her touch, a low moan sounding deep in his throat. Her hands glided up his front, over the hard ridges of his ribs and the padding of muscle, finding and circling his flat nipples.

"Verity..."

He rose up a little, bracing himself on one forearm, and with the other hand began to undo the buttons of her dress. The brush of his fingertips between her breasts as he worked his way down her bodice sent sensations so exquisite they were almost painful spiraling through her. Nathan tugged at the ribbons tying her chemise, in his haste pulling one of them into a knot. He let out a soft curse, and yanked at the ribbon, snapping it.

He sent her a slightly startled look. "I'm sorry."

Verity laughed softly. "Really?" She crossed her arms beneath her head, the bodice and chemise sliding to the sides. She felt aflame, and she knew it shone in her eyes, in the catlike smile she sent up at him.

"No. Not really." He pushed the clothes completely away and gazed down at her for a long moment.

It seemed to Verity that she could feel the heat of his eyes tracking across her. She reveled in that heat, the desire that stamped his face pushing her own hunger higher. Nathan slowly ran his finger across her breasts, tracing the circle of her nipples, his eyes darkening as he watched. Then he bent to kiss the tops of her breasts, his lips as light and soft as butterfly wings, teasing, and she arched up, wanting more, and at last he took her nipple into his mouth. The pull of his lips, the stroke of his tongue sent a long, slow surge of passion through her.

Verity could not hold back a moan, and she dug her fingers into his hair, urging him on. She wrapped her legs around him, aching to take him inside her and frustrated by the barrier of their clothes. Nathan reached beneath her skirt, shoving it up and gliding his hand up her thigh.

But still, her clothes impeded them. Verity wanted to feel his fingertips on her skin, to have him flush against her. She pushed his jacket back from his shoulders, and Nathan reared up, shrugging out of jacket, shirt, and waistcoat all at once and flinging them aside.

He came back to her and took her lips in another deep kiss. Verity roamed her hands over his shoulders and back, her fingers digging into his flesh whenever his mouth sent some new tremor of delight through her. Her fingers followed the curve of his buttocks, and then she slipped one hand around to his front, dipping inside the waistband of his breeches. She felt the pulse of his response against her pelvis.

She fumbled at the buttons of his trousers, and Nathan let out a low growl of hunger and frustration. He rolled away and began to remove his boots and breeches, and Verity seized the opportunity to peel off the rest of her clothes, as well.

Nathan turned back to her, his eyes smoldering as they drifted down her body. "You are beautiful."

"So are you," Verity replied.

"Beautiful?" He quirked an eyebrow.

"Yes." She reached up and combed her fingers through his hair. "Such wonderfully mussed curls." She traced his eyebrow. "Eyes women swoon over." Her forefinger dropped to follow the curve of his lips. "Very kissable mouth." She trailed her fingertips down the side of his neck and over his collarbone onto the muscles of his arm, her touch light as a feather. "Very kissable everything."

She demonstrated by sitting up and brushing her lips against his mouth, then his throat, then the bony point of his shoulder, as she flattened her hands against his chest and slid them down over his sides. Casting a little sideways grin up at him, she said, "You don't like me saying you're beautiful?"

"Oh, I like it." He curved his hand around the back of her neck and kissed her. "Very much." He nibbled gently at her earlobe and let out a soft chuckle. "Though somehow it doesn't seem very manly."

Verity closed her eyes, the touch of his teeth on her skin vibrating through her. "Of course it is." She slid one hand downward to take him in her hand. He sucked in a breath. "And you're quite manly."

Nathan took her mouth in a fierce kiss, his hands on her shoulders bearing her back down to the floor. Verity felt as if he were consuming her, and she loved it. She kissed him, claiming him as much as he claimed her, and she opened her legs for him in silent invitation.

She could feel him, stiff and pulsing, probing at the soft center of her, the movement teasing and arousing until she felt as if she might go mad, and then, at last, he slid into her with aching slowness, stretching and filling her in the most elemental way. It was everything she wanted and yet not enough.

Verity wrapped her legs around him, and he began to move, still with that same unhurried sensual stroke that was both delightful and frustrating. She dug her fingers into his back, urging him on. Then, at last, his movements quickened, matching her urgency, and the coil of desire in her grew ever tighter, until she was panting, aching for release. She gasped as pleasure exploded within her, and Nathan shuddered, letting out a hoarse cry as they tumbled together into the shattering depths of passion.

Nathan collapsed against her. He nuzzled into the crook of her neck, murmuring her name, then rolled to the side, taking his weight from her. Verity wished he had not been so considerate; she had liked feeling his body against hers, warm and substantial. But she felt too replete, too stunned, to even make a coherent sentence.

He curled his arm around her, and she snuggled against his side, her head on his shoulder. Was this really her—feeling so soft and warm, as if she could melt into him? So lacking in thought or alertness, so drifting in happiness and pleasure?

Nathan idly stroked his hand up and down her arm, his body growing lax against her. His hand stilled, his breathing slowed, and he dozed. Verity didn't mind; she liked this unguarded moment, when she could smooth her hand over his skin and breathe in the scent of him unnoticed, when she didn't have to be strong or pragmatic or skeptical. When she could be the vulnerable creature that usually hid inside her hard outer shell. She could be soft and calm without worrying about what danger she was opening herself up to.

Verity rose onto her elbow and looked at Nathan. His face was slack with sleep, lashes shadowing his cheeks. It was unfair for a man to have such thick lashes. And hair that curled in such loose soft waves—a stray curl was always tumbling down onto Nathan's forehead in a boyish, appealing way. It made concentrating on anything but him very hard to do. He was eminently appealing asleep like this. But even more so when he was awake and she could look into his eyes, see his smile, hear his laugh.

What does he see in me? she wondered. She wasn't modest enough to deny that she was attractive or that men often desired her...at least until they came up against the cold iron in her. But Nathan was well aware of her nature, had come up against her hardness and her blunt speech. She had teased him into frustration—and clearly enjoyed doing so. He knew her past, knew more than anyone else had.

Though she wore bold colors to suit her pose as Mrs. Billingham, the truth was Mrs. Billingham's style was not far from Verity's own. She had long chafed under the necessity to dress so that she went unnoticed.

Verity was too bold and unladylike in every way. And Nathan wasn't the sort to sleep with a woman just because she was willing. Yet he wanted her. Indeed, she felt rather sure he went against his better judgment in making love to her. But he had.

Well, she might not understand it, but she wasn't about to argue against her good fortune. Verity smiled to herself and lay back down, nestling against Nathan and looping her arm across his chest. Closing her eyes, she too fell asleep.

She was quick to wake up, though, when she felt Nathan stirring. She turned onto her other side, facing away from him, suddenly feeling a little shy. There was another thing she wasn't accustomed to feeling, but everything was so different with Nathan. She closed her eyes and lay there, wondering what he would do, what he would say. Perhaps he would kiss her shoulder or caress her back, telling her...

"I'm sorry. Verity, I'm so sorry."

"What?" Verity shot up to a sitting position, her dreamy thoughts exploding. Pain pierced her chest, and she was barely able to push back the tears that wanted to well in her eyes. "You're sorry?" At least her voice had sounded more indignant than hurt.

Nathan's eyes widened in alarm, and he said hastily, "No, God, no, not sorry for this—this was beautiful. Wonderful." He sat up, reaching for her arm, but she jerked away from him. He groaned, pushing his hands back into his disordered hair. " Why do I always say the wrong thing to you?"

"Because sometimes you blurt out the truth before you can manufacture a polite lie?" This was better, she thought. She always preferred blunt speech. She would appreciate that...later.

"No. It's not a polite lie that what we just had was...was...the devil!" Nathan cursed. "I can't think of anything adequate to express what it's like to be with you. To be in you, to taste you, to feel you. Surely you cannot think that I did not enjoy making love to you."

"I don't know what else I'm supposed to think when the first words out of your mouth were that you regretted it." Still, Verity softened a little inside at his words.

"But I didn't. I didn't regret it. Not for a moment. I was apologizing to you because it was reprehensible of me to pull you to the floor in the middle of the drawing room as if you were a..."

Verity stared. "You mean you're apologizing because you weren't gentlemanly enough?" She was swept with relief. Her eyes began to dance, her lips curving up.

"Dammit, now you're laughing at me."

"No. Never." Verity leaned over, looping her arms loosely around his neck, and kissed him lightly. She sat back, bracing her hands behind her and crossing her ankles, as if settling in for a friendly chat. It gave her a little thrill that his eyes went to her naked breasts. She no longer felt shy at all.

"I would never want to be disrespectful to you." Nathan's jaw tightened.

"You weren't disrespectful. I rather liked your...eagerness. Though I will admit my bed is more comfortable. We'll have to try that next time."

"Next time." He wiped his hands over his face. "Verity, no. We can't do this again."

Verity sighed. She should have known. Nathan's noble nature was rearing its head. "Now you're going to turn saintly on me?"

"No, of course not. Trust me, I feel anything but saintly." He reached for his clothes and began to dress. "What I'd like to do right now is try that bed out."

"That sounds like an excellent idea to me." Verity smiled up at him. Even as he stood and pulled on his breeches, he couldn't keep his eyes off her body, and whatever his mouth said, the noticeable bulge in his breeches was telling a different story.

"Verity, would you please get dressed? I'm trying to have a reasonable discussion here."

Verity blew out a sigh and picked up her chemise. She pulled it on, leaving the top ribbon untied, and stepped into her petticoat. She turned and faced him, crossing her arms. "There. Satisfied?"

He looked anything but satisfied, and his gaze went to her underpants, still lying where she'd thrown them earlier. "You're not..." He stopped and cleared his throat. "Verity, I was in a weak moment, and I let myself be carried away. I had promised to give you time to think about things, to decide whether you wanted to go any further down this path. But I didn't give you a chance to consider all the ramifications."

Verity rolled her eyes. "Nathan, for pity's sake, it's not as if your advances were unwanted. As I remember, I was the one who pulled you down to the floor and kissed you."

"Yes, you were." A faint smile touched his lips, his eyes warming. "But that's not the point. The point is that there's your reputation to consider, and you deserve more than being someone's mistress. And what if...what if you became pregnant? You couldn't—I would of course—but marrying would be wrong. I have nothing to offer. No prospects, no estate, hell, I don't even have my name anymore."

It shouldn't hurt that he dismissed so easily the idea of marrying her. He was right, of course; she knew as well as he that marriage was out of the question. How could she be offended when she had as little desire to marry as he did? How could she argue against it?

But neither was she going to let him get away with using that as an excuse. "Nathan, if you don't want to have an affair with me, just say so. But don't tell me you're doing this because it's better for me. I decide what's better for me. I decide who I let in my bed. I'm not some fragile flower. I know how to protect myself in every way. I have my own name and my own prospects. And I have no intention of getting married—to you or anyone else." She planted her fists on her hips, her eyes flashing. "For whatever bizarre reason, I want you in my bed. So the only question is, do you want to be there?"

Nathan's eyebrows shot up and then, surprisingly, he began to laugh. "Only you could be so bellicose in saying you want someone."

"Not someone. You."

"Yes. I understand." He moved toward her, smiling. "And I am very glad of that." He stopped in front of her and gazed down into her eyes. "To answer your question, yes, I want to be in your bed." Reaching up, he began to idly play with a loose strand of her hair. "And you look very beddable right now."

Verity smiled and said teasingly, "Again? Already?"

"Yes, again. Already." He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips. "And every time you'll have me." The kiss that followed was longer, and when he lifted his head, his eyes were heated.

"Then I suggest it's time we go upstairs." She took his hand and led him from the room.