Chapter 19

Chapter 19

The hours passed quickly, entertaining all their guests. Though, the fact that they were ‘their' guests still felt otherworldly to Josephine.

Before she knew it, the sun had set, and their guests had moved to retire for the night, leaving Josephine, her parents, and Henry standing in the foyer after seeing so many of them off.

"We really do appreciate your extending the invitation for us to stay here for the week," her father repeated with a cheery grin. "It isn't too terrible a drive, but it is rather like a vacation, is it not?"

"Which was the intent," Henry assured him, inclining his head respectfully. "I am too happy to have you while Josephine settles in and we ready the estate for the wedding."

"And we are too happy to be here," Josephine's mother said quickly, cutting her husband off before he could strike up an entirely new conversation. "We'll follow the rest of your guests and retire now, though. Josephine? You mean to retire as well?"

Josephine coloured under her mother's pointed gaze, nodding as her mother glanced to the side to verify that there were at least servants present to supervise them.

"We will let the two of you say goodnight then," her father said simply, grinning with none of the suspicion her mother harboured.

Henry's lips twitched, but he said nothing as her mother and father departed, leaving them standing alone in the foyer at last.

She didn't know why it made her so giddy to be so alone. Maybe it was just her mother's implication with the warning glance she had given her. Or maybe it was how he had stared so longingly at her earlier that afternoon despite the guests surrounding them.

She felt like a schoolgirl, her stomach a mass of butterflies as the sound of her parents' footsteps faded, and she was left with only Henry and the watching servants.

"I suppose I ought to walk you to your room before your mother doubles around to check on the two of us," Henry teased, holding his arm out for her.

Josephine felt her nerves abate somewhat, her own lips twitching as she slid her hand gently onto his proffered arm. "She wasn't very subtle about that, was she? I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Henry laughed, walking with her as soon as her fingers settled. "I have only myself to blame for that display this afternoon."

Oh, mercy.

Josephine's corset was suddenly laced far too tightly, her breath catching in her throat as she stared straight ahead with too much blood rushing suddenly to her cheeks.

"I'd rather hoped everyone had been too preoccupied to see that," she murmured, those butterflies becoming battering rams as she fought the urge to find a way to press her thighs together as she walked. Such an odd sensation filled her, that desire warring with her nerves. Those nerves warring with the urge to turn and pull him to her brazenly.

"I'd rather have stolen you away for them not to see at all."

He said it so plainly, his voice calm despite the instant havoc it wreaked on her.

Her eyes darted to him, her stomach dropping at the fond way he regarded her, his hand resting lightly over hers as they ascended the stairs and turned to go down the hallway where her bedchambers had been designated to lie.

"You're excused Tabitha," Henry continued, raising his voice to be heard by the maid trailing them several yards behind.

"Your Grace?" Tabitha squeaked, her steps faltering without fully coming to a stop.

The impropriety of it was no doubt making her mind race, but Henry only smiled, looking back over his shoulder at her with a raised brow.

"I'll see my intended to her room myself," he said slowly, his tone brokering no argument.

Tabitha teetered there, her eyes dropping finally as she nodded. "Your Grace."

Josephine might have worried. In another lifetime, she might have. But she knew she could trust Henry. She knew his servants were devoted to him. So, the only nerves were those that sent her blood pounding in her head and down through her limbs.

"You speak very freely, Your Grace," Josephine teased. Or rather, she attempted to. The statement came out more breathless than she would have liked, her tongue almost tripping over the words.

"Your Grace," Henry mused. "Not Just Henry?"

Her breath caught again, her steps slowing alongside his as they neared the door to her bedchamber.

Just Henry.

She could feel his breath against her face all over again, just like before when he had uttered those words. Feel the heat of his hands like phantom presses along the same grips he had held her by before. But he hadn't touched her.

Not at that moment.

Yet she felt him still.

His eyes were burning coals in his face, the green spearing right through her as she turned to face him, her tongue darting out to wet the suddenly overly dry line of her lips.

"If my speaking so freely is impertinent or unwelcome …" He paused, his body going overly still as he misread her silence for the opposite of that desire that froze her tongue to the roof of her mouth.

"You misunderstand me," Josephine breathed. "I – You–" she cast around uselessly for the words to explain herself, but none came, her hand lifting from his arm to rest against his chest as he hesitated still in front of her.

Lord, help her, but how did she tell him that his words set her ablaze in the very best of ways?

Wordlessly, she gripped his hand in one of hers, bringing it up between them and flattening his palm out so she could press it over her collarbone. Just over that space where her heart beat in rapid tandem with that blood coursing through her.

Henry stared at his hand, where it lay against her heaving bosom … and then he moved hers on his chest, pressing his hand down atop hers until she felt a rapid matching beat within his own breast.

"You are not what I expected," he said raggedly, stooping to rest his forehead against hers. His breath gusted against her face, his hand leaving the top of hers to move his fingers to her face much in the same manner he had earlier that afternoon.

They traced her cheekbones where she could feel that blood coursing, his eyes roving her face as if seized by a hunger that he couldn't satiate.

"This is not what we agreed upon," Josephine whispered. There was no doubting that she was pleased by it, though, her body swaying forward as she felt his fingertips drift until his palm cupped her cheek instead.

"You only have to tell me to stop if that is what you wish." Henry's words were a mere whisper, his nose brushing against hers as he stepped even closer.

She could feel the heat of his body against hers then, his chest brushing her own, and she nearly forgot how to breathe.

"I do not wish," she answered fervently.

She wanted the opposite. Anything. She did not even know what she wanted, her stomach in knots as Henry's face lowered to her own once more.

And then he took her lips with his own.

There was no hesitance as there had been that first time. His lips matched the hunger in her belly, his fingers digging into her face as he pulled her closer.

And Josephine no longer knew decorum.

The thought of being stumbled upon didn't exist. The knowledge she knew she didn't have no longer mattered. There was only Henry and his lips against hers, only his body pushing her back until the backs of her shoulders hit the wall behind her.

A strangled, breathy sound left her, lifted between their lips as her hand on his chest turned into a claw, her fingers knotting in the fabric as his lips parted.

His tongue was warm and unexpected, tracing the line of her lips until they opened beneath it. Tasting her as she eagerly met with her tongue against his.

She had no idea.

She didn't know what to do with her hands. With her lips. With her tongue.

But he gripped her with such reverence, with such passion. His hand fell to her hip, his fingers curling over the curve of it as he pulled her body to his, all hard plains and eager need. She could not string two words together to think.

All she could do was meet him where he kissed her, her tongue sliding questioningly against his as his body pushed further forward.

She could feel every inch of him, every breath that he breathed into their joined lips, every centimetre of his desire.

She arched into him, her hips pushing off the wall, her fingers pulling him by his shirt closer to her.

The points of his teeth dug into her lips, eliciting another, more strangled sound from the back of her throat.

And with it, everything screeched to a halt.

Henry pushed back away from her, his chest heaving as he stalked another few steps back, groaning as he ran his hand over his face in aggravation.

"My apologies," he ground out, the words sounding as if they were forced from him.

"Apologies?" Josephine repeated, her own voice foreign to her ears. "You want to apologize for that?"

Henry laughed, the sound choppy as he looked at her, his green eyes glimmering in the lamplight. "No," he admitted, his voice all gravel. "What I want is to back you through that door and into your bedchamber."

Josephine's whole body blushed with his words, her lips parting in a silent ‘o' as she felt her heart rate if it were possible, double within her ribcage. She knew she should be shocked by his words, and she was, but more than anything … more than anything, she wanted him to make good on them, which scared her more than anything else.

"Which is why I am apologizing," Henry muttered haltingly. "You deserve better than to be taken advantage of so."

"It isn't taking advantage," Josephine breathed. "Not if I wanted it."

Something dark and savage passed over Henry's face, his eyes wild before he groaned again.

"I'm going to need you to stop saying such things," he begged in a low voice. "You deserve better."

She no longer knew if he was saying that for her or to remind himself.

"You make me feel things I'd thought I was long past feeling," he continued in a low, uneven tone. "And though I wish nothing more than to repeat what just transpired …"

"We ought to wait?" Josephine didn't know why she phrased it like a question. It shouldn't have been. It was smart to wait. It was what was done. But her heart raced, and she wanted to argue with him more than anything else.

She was almost giddy.

You make me feel things I'd thought I was long past feeling.

His words gave her a hope she didn't know she had been searching for.

"You deserve a man who is not so confused by his own emotions," Henry told her slowly, keeping the distance between them despite the reassurance in his words.

Josephine pushed her palm into her belly, trying to soothe her still-racing emotions.

"You make me … feel things as well," Josephine whispered, fumbling her words and inelegantly offering him what she could.

Feel things. It sounded so simple, said like that, but it felt anything but.

Henry's smile was rueful, the barest twitch of his lips as he took another step back. Josephine might have been offended if it weren't for how he still looked at her. The way his eyes drank in her every inch.

For a long moment, they regarded one another, the silence between them heavy and loaded with all the things they could not seem to put into words.

"I should like to kiss you goodnight," Henry said at last, finally apparently regaining enough composure to step forward once more.

"Didn't you just do that?"

Oh, stupid girl.

She had no idea why she'd said that aloud. She wanted him to kiss her again. She wanted anything he was willing to give. Why would she say such a thing?

Henry chuffed a laugh, stopping just short of standing as close as he was before. His fingers were gentle, mere ghostly whispers against her cheek as he looked down at her, his eyes moving between her own as if he were trying to read something in them.

"No. That isn't at all what I was doing." His words were also a whisper, his head dropping again so that he could rub his nose lightly against hers.

There was no rush like before. It was slower, even than their first kiss. More intentional with the way that he lifted her face with his fingers under her chin.

His lips were barely there, a gentle press as her eyes fluttered closed once more.

The kiss was different. Not lesser, not more.

It was as if he were saying everything with his lips that his voice could not find the words for. And Josephine felt her heart stutter in her chest with it all.

He couldn't love her, he had said. But perhaps he could feel something for her.

As she knew she already did for him.

When he backed away that time, she found herself staring up at him, her lips curling into a small, soft smile.

"I rather like ‘goodnight'," she murmured, watching his lips move to copy hers.

"Then I shall leave you with it before I destroy it," Henry muttered. "Tomorrow?"

Josephine could only nod as Henry took one step backwards, then two … and then three before finally turning on his heel and walking off down the hallway.

She opened the door to her bedchamber in a daze, slipping inside with a dreamy smile still hovering about her lips.

"Feelings," she whispered, laughing to herself as she wandered aimlessly into her bedchamber, blind to anything but the emotions coursing through her.

She made him feel things. Maybe he had only meant physical, but she didn't think that had been it.

And it gave her hope.

He gave her hope.

Her smile grew as she sank onto the end of her bed, her fingers dancing over her lips as she remembered the feel of his against hers.

If this was a taste of married life, she thought maybe she could bear it even better than she had first thought.

He made her happy, she realized.

Her feelings for him grew with each day she got to know him more. And he proved time and time again that it was worth it.