Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The house belonging to Richard, the late clergyman, was simple enough to find. Dorian was not proud of the fact that he had been looking into Claire's life in quite some detail since he had returned. He had thought, naively, that his self-control would be strong enough to simply let her be to live her life.

But then Claire had chosen to show up at his father's funeral. So, all bets were off.

Though, he might have drank just a little bit too much wine during the ball. Perhaps that was his mistake. It might have given him a touch more reckless bravado than was strictly wise.

Dorian dismounted his horse and tethered the mare to the nearest tree. The house in front of him was mostly unassuming, with a charming garden to the side. It looked as if it had been immaculately cared for, and he had expected nothing less. The box of newly budded flowers in the front, however, he had a sneaking suspicion that those had to be her daughter's choosing.

He could knock. He could wake the house and call upon her formally, but that would take time and would also give her the chance to turn him away. It was a very, very late hour, and it was wholly improper that he was here in the first place.

If only the ride over had been sobering enough to have brought him to his senses then perhaps he would not presently be searching to see which window was likely hers. The soft glow of firelight flickered low in a couple of windows, which narrowed down his prospects. But not nearly enough.

Then he spotted her. She had not noticed him, it would seem, as she was staring up at the stars. She lingered but a moment as she finished putting the final plaits in her long blonde hair before tossing the finished braid over her shoulder… and then she was gone.

He could make it to the second floor.

It was reckless and beyond stupid, but he did not see another alternative. He was already in action before his common sense or logic could catch up with his body.

He scaled the large tree nearest to her bedroom window and shimmied over the ledge until he could work her window open. Not the wisest of options to seem as if he were breaking in, but she would forgive him once she saw who it was and why he had come. At least, he had to hope she did.

He landed inside with a louder thump than he intended. Dorian pushed his black hair back with both hands as he scanned the room for her—but before he could turn, something sharp was angled at his throat as the slight frame of a woman landed squarely on his back.

"You have made a mistake in coming here, intruder!" Claire snarled in his ear as she pressed the metal in her hand harder against his throat. It was not sharp enough to be a knife—what was it?

It was mean to laugh.

She was such a small woman in comparison to him. Granted, she had been blessed with ample curves, but she did not weigh nearly enough to make him stumble. He held up his hands in surrender anyway. "It is me, it is Dorian."

Claire did not relent for a long moment as she twisted over his shoulder just enough to verify that it was him and that he did not appear to have nefarious intent. When she dropped off of him, her bare feet made a thwump on the ground, followed by the loud clatter of the silver letter opener falling to the ground.

Now that he could see the object, it was shocking to him that he had not been able to guess what the offending item was by feel alone. How many glasses of wine had he drunk again?

"Dorian!" Claire repeated with a laugh as she shook her head. "What are you doing here? Why would you not use the front door! Are you drunk?"

Dorian swayed on the spot for dramatic effect. "...No?"

"That is one answer out of the three that I have demanded!" Claire laughed again as she visibly seemed to relax. He chose to take that as a good sign.

"I suppose I was feeling somewhat nostalgic. Do you remember how many times I used to sneak into your rooms or you into mine? I do not recall you ever threatening me like that before, however."

"Perhaps I should have, it would have kept things interesting." Claire giggled.

Oh, how he had missed that sound. Certain things about her memory had faded in time, as all things did. He had not realized that the memory of her pretty laugh had dulled until this very moment. A whole other reason to sway on the spot.

"Did you really expect to cause any real damage with that thing were I a real burglar?" Dorian asked, gesturing to the letter opener.

"Oh ye of little faith. Perhaps I have grown quite wicked and ruthless in your absence."

Dorian lifted his hands in surrender yet again. "I do not doubt it. I know enough about mothers in nature when they feel threatened. I agree, you are likely quite capable of doing serious damage."

"Correct." Claire nodded triumphantly. She crossed to her window and closed it, and then sat on the edge of her bed as she gestured for him to sit in the small rocking chair across from her bed.

Yes, it was wise not to sit on a bed with her. His imagination was difficult to tame on the very best of days. Let alone being alone in a room with the woman he loved… on her bed.

Though, it was not merely her bed, was it? That was the bed she had likely shared with her husband. The same bed they had likely made their child in. She had moved on so quickly.

Dorian was reluctant to dwell on thoughts of such things but then again, how could he not? Why had he come here? What did he hope to change? He now stood in her husband's room… their marital room…

His thoughts were spinning, spiraling, and he did not know how to slow them down.

"Dorian, why have you come here tonight?" Claire's head tilted softly to the side, her braid falling over her shoulder again. "Not that I am not pleased to see you, of course."

Dorian leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "Are you?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course I am happy to see you," Claire answered quickly. "I have dreamed of this in various scenarios for so very many years now."

Dorian snorted through his nose. "I am sure your husband must have loved that, you dreaming of another man while in bed with him."

"Is that what you wish to ask me about? Are you worried that this is his bed?" Claire answered, the corner of her lip lifting into a smirk. "Should I be flattered that you are jealous after all of this time?"

The lightness in their conversation did not last long. His easy smile faded. Of course he was jealous. Of course he wanted to know about these last five years they had been apart. There were so many questions that he wanted answered that the span of a single night would not be nearly long enough to catch up.

"I should not have come. I do not know what has come over me." Dorian started to stand, and Claire rose from the bed with him.

How could he ever look at another woman when Claire existed? Even here, in her humble linen nightgown, she was the most lovely creature that he had ever beheld. His eyes traced over all of the parts of her that he longed to touch.

He wished to pull her in by the waist, let the curve of her hip press against his body. Her gown did very little to hide the rounded fullness of her breast. No, nothing good could come of him staying here. The temptation was far too great and he had never felt more weak-willed.

"Leaving so soon? Without asking any of your questions?" Claire sidestepped him, putting her body between him and the window.

"Is there even a point? You seem to have lived a whole life in the time that I was gone and you have so clearly moved on." Dorian sighed. It was hard to look at her directly when his thoughts were running so rampant.

"Do not speak for me, Dorian, do not," Claire warned in a low voice.

"I will slip away, and we can both pretend this never happened. I was never here. Perhaps it would be best to avoid one another from now on. It will be… easier that way," Dorian lied.

"Easier for whom, Dorian? I will not pretend anything!" Claire said firmly. "You are here for a reason, and we both know it. Stop being a coward and simply ask what you came here to ask!"

Dorian's mouth opened. He floundered. He wanted to demand answers, to ask why she had kept away. Why did she not write? Why did she not come to find him and demand answers from him? How could she have gotten married so soon after he had gone?

None of the words would come out—he could not speak a single word. Too many emotions swirled around inside of his head all at once, overpowering him. He willingly surrendered to the current and was swept away, so wholly and utterly consumed that he did not even try to stop his hands from lifting to cup her perfect face. Her hands lifted too, cupping his wrists, and her eyes widened fractionally as if she was not certain what he was going to do next.

Then he kissed her.

Dorian's thumbs smoothed over the planes of her face as he pulled her closer. It was not a sweet, delicate kiss like they used to steal. No, his kiss was fire and molten desire. It was years and years of pining and need for her and her alone all channeled into the inferno that threatened to unleash in his chest.

Claire's hands did not drop, but she opened for him. She invited him in, deeper as he relished in the long-forgotten taste of her. A soft moan of pleasure left her lips only to be swallowed by his own before she melted into him. Her soft, small hands slipped from his wrists and fell instead to his chest. She took fistfuls of his shirt and coat and anchored herself to him as if she were a woman starved—and he was only too happy to allow himself to be consumed.

He walked the pair of them back to the closest surface. Her hips hit the back of her bedside table hard enough that whatever was on top of it rattled. He could not stop, could not bring himself to care. With a swipe, he pushed the items free and lifted her up onto it.

Claire's insistent hands shoved his jacket down and off his shoulder, pulling at the buttons of his waistcoat with enough force that at least one of them was ripped free of the fabric. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he pushed the long linen skirt of her nightgown up her thighs so that he could feel the impossible softness of her skin under his callused palms.

More, more, more .

***

Claire's mind could not stop spinning. She felt that if she gave herself room to think, she would talk herself out of it, but she could not. She needed this. Dorian was all that she had ever needed. Nothing felt more right than being with him.

But she was greedy. Her teeth closed over his lip as she pulled him closer and he groaned. The sound alone would have had her ready for him as desire pooled between her thighs.

She had managed to get the top of his shirt open so that her hands could flatten over the planes of his well-muscled chest. She wanted to memorize every new line and every new curve and indentation of him.

With a strangled noise, Dorian broke apart from her and took a step back. "Stop, we must stop."

He chose now to be the voice of reason? If he rejected her now, she did not know what she would do. If he stepped away from her or shunned her, that would be it. This, whatever it was, this temporary truth where the past and all of the things that they had hurt one another, did not matter. If he protested, it would shatter and be done.

"Must we?"

"There is so much that we must talk about, Claire. There are a great many things that I need answers to—things that need to be explained."

Dorian's eyes roamed over her exposed skin hungrily. She did not feel the slightest bit of shame as she lifted a leg to let the heel of one foot rest on the nightstand she was perched upon. Her nightgown pooled between her thighs as she beckoned him closer.

"Is now the time for talking, my lord?" Claire smiled softly, begging him to allow her this moment. She teased him with formality just as she had all of those years ago. Whatever reason had caused fate to bring him here, she wished to make the most of it. "Could we not just share this time together? I… Dorian… do we not deserve this?"

He silenced her this time. Dorian's warm hands cupped her face for a sweet, lingering kiss that trailed lower to the curve of her jaw, the hollow of her collarbone, and down to her breasts, where he lavished attention. She did not wish to think about the reasons for such confidence. No longer were they young and foolishly in love, pawing at each other in the hay.

Though, she stopped thinking entirely when he kissed her between her legs.

Claire nearly slipped backward off of the nightstand. Her hands shot to the edges in a claw grip as Dorian hefted her legs up and over his shoulders to feast upon her. Never in her life had she thought such a thing was possible—that such pleasure was something she could feel .

She had to bite the gown on her shoulder to keep from crying out as he devoured her. If he had not initially been intent on making the very more of their time together, he certainly was now. Words she was no longer allowed to say sat on the tip of her tongue, things she knew better than to let loose—it was just as well that she had to struggle to stay quiet.

The heat inside of her built higher as her hips bucked against his handsome face. Dorian chuckled darkly.

"Do you have any idea how long I have longed to know your taste, Claire?"

She had never heard him use such a tone before.

"Even sweeter than I imagined." Dorian licked her from his lips before easing two of his fingers inside of her, and she felt as if she might come up off of the nightstand.

"Dorian!" she cried out, then had to clamp a hand over her mouth—resulting in her balance sipping and her nearly hitting her head on the wall behind the table.

"Shh, now, or I will have to find other ways to silence you if you cannot behave yourself." Dorian grinned wickedly as he worked his fingers inside of her.

Claire was more than a little tempted to find out just what he could mean. "I-doo…" she breathed as his fingers curled and hit something inside of her that made her eyes nearly roll back into her head.

"Oh, how I missed making you speechless," Dorian teased before his mouth joined his fingers. Light suction on that sensitive bundle of nerves and she nearly shattered apart in his arms—just as he moved her. "Not yet, my beauty, not yet."

She could not have stopped it if her completion found her. She could do nothing but meet his motions with enthusiasm, and then he was there. Dorian kept one of her legs on his shoulders as he rose to nearly his full height and undid the front of his trousers, freeing himself from the confines.

Claire did not remember him being quite so large.

She reached for him, hoping to pleasure him in at least a fraction of the capacity that he had done for her, but he took himself in hand while aligning himself with her entrance. For a moment, she did not think it would fit.

He had no idea how long it had been since she had been with a man—well, perhaps he did. She could not—oh, but she was. She watched as he sank inside of her, little by little, and she could not breathe. She could not think. She became sensation.

She gripped his shoulders tightly, knowing full well that she was going to leave indents of her nails on his skin. He was the only thing anchoring her to the world. Without her hold on him, she might dissolve into some other state of being. She could hardly contain herself. She had to bite her lip to keep from waking the house as he started to move.

More, more, more .

Dorian hissed with the effort of restraining himself as he set a pace. Only then did his lips find hers again. He spoke sweet nothings between his kisses.

"I could live the rest of my existence, right here within you, my beauty."

She knew he had drunk that night, and she tried to think nothing of how badly her heart longed to believe those words.

"Then stay, be here with me," she whispered, and he moved faster. Her head fell back as he lavished kisses along her neck. His hands were everywhere and not nearly in enough places. She could not get enough.

Then his hand dropped between them.

"In my dreams, this is how I touch you, how you come undone for me." Dorian spoke in the husky, deep voice that was quickly becoming her favorite thing.

And come undone she did. She shattered at the feeling of his fingertips against her sensitive flesh. Her legs trembled and shook out of her control even as he lifted her against him, carrying her onto the bed beside the table that she had been sat upon and lowering her out beneath him.

His strokes were slower then, thorough as he made love to her—deeply and completely until he finished inside her. Claire's fingers trailed lazily up and down the broad expanse of his back as the last waves of her pleasure slowly coursed through her.

She had planned a wholly different conversation to have with him should the opportunity ever arise. Words that she had played out time and time again. But now that the moment was here, none of the words would roll off of her tongue. She could not make them form. She was far too content to be with him.

Who knew when she would be able to hold him in her arms again? Would such an opportunity ever be available to her again?

Tomorrow , Claire resolved just as sleep claimed her. She allowed her exhausted body to be pulled into the safety and comfort of Dorian's arms. She would tell him the truth about her marriage come morning, even if it meant sneaking him out of the house come first light.