Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

Agatha glanced around as Oscar darted into her room through the open window. Despite his flushed appearance and the possibility he’d hurried home to speak with her again, she couldn’t bear to have him here. “Get. Out.”

“No. I’ll not leave you when you’re this angry. You could do yourself harm.”

“The only person who stands to be harmed is you, Oscar. Get out of my room. Get out of my life.”

Instead of complying, Oscar drew closer. “I don’t want to leave you when you’re angry with me.”

“Angry with you? Why on earth would I be that?” She set her hands to her hips and glared at him. “You’ve had your fun with me, convinced me to let you under my skirts, all the while courting an earl’s daughter. Congratulations. Now you can hold your head up in society around the bucks and bloods you envy. But you’ve invaded the one place I have left.”

Agatha choked on a sob. She curled her hands into fists and pressed them against her belly. All her hopes were in ruins. All her dreams in danger. If she lost the orphanage…

“That’s ridiculous, Agatha. You have your whole life ahead of you. One day you’ll marry too and have children, your own children, to nurture. The orphans are simply a passing fancy.”

“A passing fancy?” Agatha swung her hand at him in anger, but he caught it and held her tight.

“Don’t,” he begged, softening his grip immediately. “You have every right to be furious with me but getting caught up with other people’s troubles will only bring you grief in the end. Trust me, I know that good intentions have unexpected consequences.”

“What would you know about consequences? You’ve never put anyone else’s needs before your own, have you?”

He lowered his face. “The past cannot be changed but the future surely is not so bleak for both of us?”

“How big a fool are you, Oscar? I’m soiled goods. What manner of man should I foist myself upon? I won’t be your mistress. I won’t ever marry. You ruined me.”

He swallowed, and the movement of his throat beneath his cravat distracted her. “You ruined me, too.” He caught up her other hand and pulled her into his arms. “Of course you’ll marry. But don’t think I’ll care for the notion.”

As she stared into his familiar face, fighting against the gentle pull that would settle her deeper into his arms, she grieved anew for the loss of her perfect future. This would be the last time they touched. It had to be.

“You must leave.”

Oscar drew her wrist to his lips and pressed a kiss to the delicate skin. Agatha shuddered as desire skittered along her arm. His lips hovered above her flesh, and his next breath across the damp skin forced a whimper from her lips.

“I know.”

His gripped loosened and she pressed her hand to his shoulder, but he tugged her hips closer until she could feel the heat of him. With his breath hot against her neck, Agatha gripped his broad shoulder to keep from falling against him. Moments were all it took to lead them astray. Brief moments of touch dissolved the world around them until all that mattered was each other.

“I never dreamed the decision I made would hurt so much,” he whispered.

Agatha captured Oscar’s gaze. His eyes were wide and filled with longing, his breath a rapid pant across her skin. “But it does. ”

On impulse, she kissed him, kissed him as she’d longed to do since their eyes had met across her bedchamber.

Oscar dragged her against him. He shuffled them across the room then tumbled them onto her bed. The rapid burning pain of denial eased into a heady gentleness of sweet caresses. Agatha slid her fingertips across his scalp, loving the feel of his curled locks between her fingers.

On a groan, Oscar turned them until she lay on her back while he hovered above. Breath churning, they gazed at each other, neither willing to break the silence with words. Agatha reached for his cravat pin and gently tugged it free. She untied his cravat, let the fabric slide from his neck slowly, as his eyes closed. He was rigid with tension; the arms that caged her trembled.

With a few flicks of her fingers, his waistcoat buttons were open, then his shirt. As she touched her fingers to the smooth expanse of his chest uncovered by her exploration, he gasped her name and trembled anew. With slow, determined tugs, she pulled his shirt free of his trousers.

His arms failed and the heat of his body engulfed her. Agatha parted her legs to accommodate him. Snug and tightly pressed together, they kissed again. Deep, consuming kisses, which silenced the voices that shrieked for caution, demanding restraint. She’d never managed to deny how much she had desired Oscar in the past, so she didn’t try to fight it now.

Oscar’s skin burned her fingertips. She palmed the hard curve of his lower waist, digging into the deceptive strength of him, letting her eyes close and hide reality. Oscar nibbled at her neck. He planted soft kisses down the column of her throat and across her chest. His tongue flicked into her cleavage and she arched upward to his mouth, wanting more of his special torment, more of his pleasure.

He groaned and kissed her breast over the fabric then his hot, open mouth found her nipple and he suckled, gown and all. Agatha threaded her fingers into his hair, keeping him close where she liked him.

With her other hand, she found the buttons of his trousers and worked them free. Oscar lifted his hips so she could slide her hand beneath the restricting fabric. His hot breath hissed against her skin through the gown then he was kissing her, showing her beyond words how much he desired her.

Agatha slid her fingers around his length and gently stroked him. He flexed his hips, sliding his cock slowly across her palm, settling into a steady rhythm. Oscar rested his weight on one arm then played havoc with her senses with his free hand. Roughly, her gown was yanked from her shoulder, exposing her breasts to the air. His fingers plucked at her nipple, twisting the peak until she was gasping for breath.

Agatha opened her eyes to find Oscar watching her body, his face free of whatever doubts had plagued him earlier. Lips replaced fingers at her breast, but he wasn’t finished with his torture. Cool air caressed her legs as Oscar raised her skirts higher and higher.

When his warm hand touched her thigh, she closed her eyes again, knowing that Oscar’s special brand of torment was just beginning. She wanted him so badly that her whole body shook. Oscar would take his time toward the ultimate pleasure. He wouldn’t rush to finish.

He grazed her inner thigh with his fingertips. The light touch tickled, so she bent one leg and opened to him.

Oscar chuckled. “So impatient, precious.”

“Do you blame me?”

He kissed her again, gently, but the pads of his fingers moved closer to where she wanted them at a snail’s pace. In frustration, Agatha pushed her tongue into his mouth with more insistence than usual, holding his head close to hers so he could not control everything.

Finally, his fingers touched her curls. Agatha flexed her hips toward his hand, desperate for more. Now. He parted her lower lips, pressing into her body, sliding across her slick entrance.

Agatha tightened her grip on his length, moving her hand against the rhythm of his flexing hips. When he gasped, shuddering away from her touch, Agatha chuckled. Poor Oscar, he’d taught her his desires far too well. She knew every little devious trick to bring him pleasure, too.

But the thought of never touching him again trickled into the back of her mind. She’d never experience a moment like this again. She didn’t want anyone else. Agatha buried her head to his shoulder to hide her sadness from him.

“You don’t want this, do you?” Oscar asked as he dropped his head to her chest, his breath a fast pant across her damp skin.

“Don’t leave me like this, Oscar. I’ll run mad.”

His lips pressed against her skin. “Then I’d run mad with you.”

Oscar shifted out of her grip. He hovered above, but then slowly fitted himself at her entrance. Agatha wriggled to make room for him and then he was sliding inside. The slow joining took her breath away.

When he was settled deep, she met his gaze. Gray eyes had brightened to an intense silver, holding her fascinated as he moved within her. Agatha captured his rear with one hand, his nipple with her other fingers, and squeezed. His slow coupling faltered, but soon resumed the steady possession.

She hitched her legs high around his waist, opening her body to him fully, tilting her hips at a better angle. A sweet flush of pleasure swept over her skin.

“That’s it. Bring me deeper into you.”

Agatha gripped his bottom to his thigh, tucking him tighter against her, allowing him little movement. His eyes widened with alarm, but his careful passion broke. He thrust harder, pounding against her body so hard she shuddered. The careful lover replaced by the wild one.

The less gentle man.

The one she loved.

Agatha left off her explorations of Oscar’s body, clutched his shoulder with one hand, then slid her fingers down her own body to touch herself. Although she’d pushed Oscar’s passions higher, she wanted to come with him, to feel her body peak as he did.

She inched her hand between them, slicking her fingers as Oscar’s wet length entered and left her body. He groaned then bent his head to capture her lips. Joined with him in every way possible, Agatha let pleasure take her to the edge and beyond. She sobbed into his mouth as her pleasure spiked, shuddering around the rigid length embedded inside her body. Oscar pressed deep, holding still as she found her release. But then he jerked free and the hot moisture’s sting of his release bathed her thigh.

He’d never withdrawn before.

Humiliated, Agatha blinked back tears. The futile wish of a forever after with Oscar had been truly denied her. When he ceased groaning, she pulled him hard against her chest and held him until she regained control of her emotions.

Oscar turned his head and kissed her cheek. “I’ve missed you, so badly.”

Instead of answering, Agatha pushed him away. “That is neither here nor there. We cannot and should not be alone again. Let that be the end of it.”

He sat up with a groan. “I know. I don’t trust myself either. Are you all right?”

Agatha swung her feet to the floor and stood shakily. “Of course.” But her gown stuck to her leg and she hurried to the washbasin to cleanse herself.

Behind her, Oscar dressed swiftly. “I was mad to ever let things go so far with you. I’m truly sorry that we cannot remain as we were.”

Agatha shrugged, saddened he thought their friendship a mistake, too. Once, when she’d thought his betrothal a terrible injustice, she’d hoped he’d throw propriety aside and whisk her to Gretna Green for an anvil wedding. It wouldn’t be exactly what she’d dreamed. She’d hoped to marry in St. George’s Church. But at least they would have wed.

Oscar approached and, instead of pulling her into his embrace, he merely kissed her shoulder. “Promise me you will take more care on the streets. You almost died today.”

Agatha turned slowly. “Did you follow on my heels?”

He cupped her face. “I caught you before you were run down. Were you so angry that you didn’t hear me call out to you?”

Agatha looked away, discomfited that he’d been so close to her, that he’d touched her, and she’d not noticed. Even in a crowded ballroom, separated by half the ton, she’d been aware of his location at any other time. Agatha had always taken her awareness of him as one more reason they were meant to be. “You should go.”

He pressed a kiss to her hair and turned for the window. Yet he hesitated, hovering with one leg raised in preparation for the final step through.

Footsteps rushed up the hall and halted outside her door. “Miss Birkenstock,” her maid whispered. “Your grandfather has returned and wishes to see you. Now.”

“I’ll be there directly,” Agatha called.

When she turned to say goodbye to Oscar, he’d already disappeared.