19. Chapter 19

Chapter nineteen

Iris raised her fist to knock on the door, but lowered it before her knuckles made contact. She pictured Rowland on the other side, at the desk, glasses low on his nose, ruminating over what his next steps were to handle the Bishop Goddard situation. Was he as anxious about her answer to his offer as she was? A day passed, and she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that kiss after the fight. It made her feel an arousal that Lewis made her think her body wasn’t capable of.

To be wanted that desperately, needed almost…it made heat prick at her skin.

It also terrified her. She had promised herself she would never get involved with a man again. And while Rowland made concessions now, suggesting being lovers only, would it give him false hope that she would one day acquiesce to being his wife too? And then she had the worst thought of all—would it be so bad if she did?

She huffed out a short sigh, scolding herself for being so ridiculous. All she had to do was talk to him. Tell him that she had not changed her mind on marriage and remain firm.

She knocked.

“Come in!” his deep voice rumbled from the other side of the door.

She turned the knob.

Oddly, the first thing she noticed was that Rowland kept the curtains open while he worked. Flooded in sunlight, he reminded her of an Austen hero, and for a moment, Iris pictured him as a wayward Mr. Darcy before shaking her head. The last thing she needed was to romanticize him. Even if he was looking gorgeous in the spare office they had allowed him to work in while he continued his stay at Buckland Hall.

“Mr. Sinclair,” she said with a nod when he glanced up to greet her.

“Oh, surely we’re on a first name basis by now,” he replied, that teasing smirk on his lips as he removed his glasses.

The scabs over his eyebrow and the bruises on his chin put the final nail in the coffin on her mind’s Darcy comparison. But somehow Rowland was only more appealing with the marks of his fight on him. She fleetingly imagined pressing her lips to that bruise and tending to that cut on his brow.

Heat crawled up her neck and she cleared her throat. “I suppose.”

He grinned. “Lovely. Now, what did you need to see me about?”

“I think you know.”

“I do, but I want to hear you say it.”

She raised her chin, refusing to be embarrassed. “I wish to discuss the possibility of us becoming lovers.”

“So formal,” he chuckled, leaning back in his chair. In the light, she could see the cuts and bruises from the fight even clearer. “Have you made a decision?”

“I have not. I need more information.”

“Such as?”

“Well…what are the expectations?”

He hoisted his uninjured eyebrow. “Expectations?”

“Surely there are parameters and duties and such that come with this sort of relationship. ”

“Such as?”

She shrugged, as if she hadn’t been thinking about that exact question the entire morning. “Such as exclusivity.”

Rowland got to his feet and crossed around the desk, coming within inches of Iris in a matter of seconds. He crooked a finger under her chin and tilted her face up until her eyes met his. She hadn’t even realized her gaze had dropped. Not until she was staring into the blue depths of his eyes, bereft of their former amusement, and wishing he would kiss her.

“Let me make one thing perfectly clear,” he said quietly. “I don’t share. If you’re mine, you’re mine alone.”

She held back a shiver threatening to crawl up her spine. “And…and you wouldn’t be with anyone else?”

“There hasn’t been anyone else since you slapped me in that bedroom down the hall,” he said. “I’m already yours, Iris.”

A wave of relief washed over her. Memories of Lewis flaunting his mistresses in her face, even while they were sailing on Titanic , swam to the forefront of her mind. Lewis wanted a perfect little wife and to do as he pleased with other women. Rowland wanted her and her alone, and without having to put a ring on anyone’s finger.

Yours , he’d said. Mine , she thought. There was so little in her world that was truly hers. Not her family’s estate or even The Rose Garden project. But Rowland Sinclair could be hers. This powerful, dangerous man who ran businesses and the streets of Liverpool. She could sink her nails into him and have him at her mercy.

She toyed with the strap of his suspenders over his shoulder. “I still have a concern.”

“About getting pregnant?”

She nodded, not totally shocked he might have already thought about it. He was always considering her .

“I don’t know what methods you’ve used in the past, but whatever you’re comfortable with, I will fund or provide.”

“When I was married, Sybil found a doctor who had these herbs,” she explained. “They worked quite well, and I could put them in my tea.”

“Do you trust your current lady’s maid to put them in your tea?”

Iris nodded. “I won’t tell her what they’re for.”

“Consider it done. Anything else?”

“How often will I be required to—”

“Required?” he cut across her and backed away a couple steps. “Iris, this isn’t a contract. Do I want to ravish you every day? Of course. But you are free to refuse me at any time.”

“Wouldn’t that make you want to seek out other company, though?” she asked.

His brow furrowed. “I should have fucking killed your ex-husband when I had the chance.”

“What does he have to do with this?”

“He’s the one who filled your head with ridiculous ideas about sex being some sort of duty, isn’t he? And that you denying him meant he was free to fuck other women?”

Her mouth turned down, an itchy feeling she couldn’t name coming over her, irritating her skin and making her adjust her blouse. It hit her suddenly. The feeling was shame. Shame that she was still allowing Lewis’s actions to hold her back, to influence her thoughts. After all these years, she still had not completely shaken him.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t allow him to affect me this way,” she said, taking a deep breath. “But, he’s been the only man in my life, and the only other example I have is Sybil and Charles, but their life doesn’t appeal to me at all. I don’t know how being lovers works.”

“Don’t apologize, I’ll show you how it works. ”

She blinked. “What?”

He didn’t answer, he simply went back behind the desk and opened one of the drawers on the right-hand side. From it, he retrieved a small, red box with gold lining the trim. Her initial reaction was to reprimand him and tell him if marriage was a condition, she was out of the arrangement. But when he pulled the box open, it was not a ring inside. It was a pair of earrings. Beautiful gold things with pearl drops hanging from them.

“What’s this?” she asked, glancing between the jewelry and his face.

“They’re for you,” he said, holding them out to her. “I bought them because I thought they would look nice on you and I’ve noticed that you wear pearls a lot. I did not get them because I expect something in return. You and I, and whatever this is, is not a transaction. It’s not business. A pair of earrings does not entitle me to your bed. They are only a gift to tell you that I care for you, Iris.”

It was everything she needed to hear. Rowland was everything she wanted in a man. Forthright, honest, and generous. He saw her as an equal, a partner, unbeholden to him. And it made her want him all the more.

“They’re beautiful, Rowland, thank you,” she said with a smile, and she took them at last. “And they certainly don’t hurt your cause for getting into my bed.”

He grinned. “May I put them on you?”

She nodded, returning the box to him. He plucked them out, and she sat on his desk, tucking her hair behind her ears. She hadn’t bothered with earrings that morning, and now she was glad of it. Because Rowland’s gentle fingers working the studs through made her feel cared for, but in a true way. It didn’t create a pit in her stomach that he would demand proof of her gratitude later.

“I was right, they do look lovely on you,” he said, stepping back to admire her.

Iris had always known she was attractive, even if it wasn’t something she felt. The way Rowland regarded her made her feel it, though. A fire ignited deep in her belly, and she needed him closer.

She reached out her hand. He took it and let her pull him in closer until he was standing between her knees. Sitting on the desk, she was shorter than him, so she peered into his eyes through her lashes.

“This is what I can look forward to?” she asked.

“All the gifts your heart desires and more,” he answered.

“More?”

His hands came up to cup her face, his pinky fingers tickling her neck. He wore a signet ring on his right hand, and she shivered at the chill of it against her skin.

“There’s so much more,” he said hoarsely.

“Will you show me?”

He claimed her lips in a kiss. It was different from their kisses before. It wasn’t frantic or hurried. It was slow, deliberate, and absolutely mind melting. Her hands found the waistband of his trousers and pulled him even closer, until his hips were notched between her legs. His arousal nudged her thigh through the layers of fabric between them.

“Iris,” he said between kisses. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Say what?” she asked through a sigh.

“That you’re mine.”

Her eyes latched onto his. “Yes, Rowland, I’m yours.”

He kissed her deeply, consuming her mouth with his until he moved to her jawline and neck, peppering them with affection too. Iris had to catch her breath. She could hardly think, and for the first time in her life, she was worried she might faint. She took handfuls of Rowland’s shirt and held onto him instead. He was the solid ground beneath her feet, even when his actions put her head in the clouds.

She had never known desire that strong. Rowland made her understand what it was to crave another person.

His hands slid down her back until he reached her hips when he brought them around to caress her thighs. He tugged her skirt up until she felt the cool air of the room on her legs. His fingers delicately traced the top of her stockings and she shuddered.

“Spread your legs for me, Iris,” he said.

She obeyed. To her surprise, he dropped to his knees and hooked her knees over his shoulders. She gasped.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m showing you more,” he replied, placing a kiss on the inside of her thigh.

His lips trailed up toward her center, leaving a hot trail behind them. Desire cut hot through her lower belly as he edged closer to where she needed him most. He pushed her knickers aside, and she shifted closer to the edge of the desk. She needed release, and she needed it immediately. From him. No one else could make her that desperate.

“You’re all wet for me,” he teased, letting a finger brush over her entrance, but not touching her.

She squirmed. “Rowland, please.”

“Patience, love, I’ll give you what you want.”

He didn’t make her wait a second longer. His mouth found the button above her heat, and she sucked in a sharp gasp at the jolt of pleasure that shot up her spine. He made love to her with his mouth, and her blood surged with the pleasure of it. Her back arched to push herself closer to him. A high-pitched whine fell from her mouth. The room was spinning. Or perhaps it was the desk. His lips at her core made her dizzy either way.

“Rowland,” she panted. “I…I…”

He hummed against her and her hips bucked as if of their own accord. Her hand jumped to his hair. Anything to give her purchase as she felt herself ready to burst. She wondered how she’d gone so long without this and finally understood why people were compelled to pursue sex. This was passion. This was bliss.

“Rowland!”

Her body jerked and white stars exploded behind her eyes as she hit a resplendent peak. She thought she heard herself choke out his name, but for the rush of blood in her ears. His strong hands held her quivering thighs as she rutted against his face, easing herself back down from the high. She panted as if she’d run the length of the house. Swallowing, she caught her breath.

Rowland rose from his place between her legs and pulled her in for a kiss. Tasting herself on him drew out a moan she didn’t expect, but there was something wildly erotic about it. It thrilled her.

“No one’s ever done that for you before, have they?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I thought Sybil was exaggerating.”

He chuckled. “Get some rest. I’ll be making you scream my name several more times tonight and I don’t want you fainting on me.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”