Chapter Twenty-Three

E llis started in surprise when Owen was announced. She had been sitting, staring into space, feeling particularly low. She hadn't been at all sure why she was feeling like this, apart from the obvious mess with Theo, but now Owen was here, and everything seemed to brighten.

It was as if the sun had come out.

He looked pleased to see her but there was an uncertainty about his smile as he took her hands in his. He surveyed her with his bright, focused gaze.

"You look better," he announced.

"I am." She squeezed his fingers. "Thank you for reminding Sophia that we are not all as indefatigable as she."

"It was rather an ordeal, wasn't it? Will there be many more like that, do you think?"

Ellis grimaced. "Unfortunately, she has a list of events we must attend. I think she is enjoying herself."

It was true, her sister had thrown herself wholeheartedly into the engagement, in a way Ellis had never seen before. As if she were actually invested in her sister's happiness, or at least in keeping her alive until Theo could be captured. Perhaps Sophia was bored? She was certainly unhappy.

Owen nodded but he didn't appear to be listening. "Ellis," he said suddenly, breaking into her meandering conversation about a ball to be held that evening. "I have something I need to tell you."

She stopped. She felt as if icicles were forming in her heart. He was going to tell her he no longer wanted this fake engagement. He was going to tell her he could not be with her anymore. He was going—

"I am not going to allow Hugh Madrigal to publish the drawings of you."

They stared at each other. He seemed to be holding his breath, waiting, and she was trying to rearrange her thoughts from the ones she had imagined.

"You're not... but I thought this was a new series and it was important, and Madrigal was keen to—"

"He was. He is. He thinks it will be a hit." Owen looked down at their entwined fingers. "I just couldn't. The thought of you being ogled by all those men."

"And women," she reminded him.

He ignored that. "I can't do it. It would make me insane with . . . with . . ."

"Jealousy?" she whispered.

He nodded jerkily. His gaze on hers was earnest and worried. "Does that make me a selfish person? Are you angry with me? You seemed to be looking forward to your pictures being out in the world."

She couldn't find an answer. His hair was untidy, as if he had been tugging at his curls as he imagined the world looking at her in those wonderful drawings of his. Was he truly willing to forgo what she knew he expected to be a much sought after picture book? Was he prepared to set aside his own personal triumph because he was...

Ellis leaned forward. "Owen, are you in love with me?"

Her heart was beating hard as she awaited his answer.

He was gazing into her eyes, as if willing her to believe him. "Yes, cariad ," he whispered. "God, yes!"

And then they were kissing, wildly, passionately, as if desperate for that connection.

As if neither of them was whole without it.

"I love you, too." She pressed her face against his throat, her kisses landing haphazardly along his jaw line, where the prickle of his beard made her lips tingle. "It seems too soon and yet I know I do. Are we insane, Owen?"

" I definitely am," he muttered, and lifted her into his arms, before seating himself on a sofa with her on his lap.

She found his lips again, her tongue tangling with his, and heat rose up inside her, and with it the ache that could only be satisfied by him. He cupped her breast through the bodice of her gown, and she felt her nipple harden, nudging into his palm. She whimpered.

"Last night I thought about climbing up the wall and into your bedchamber," he said, busily unbuttoning her gown.

She managed a shaky laugh. "I'm not sure Mr. Blake's men would know what to make of that."

"That was the only reason I didn't," he said, and then he groaned at the sight of her naked breasts, filling his hands. "I want you, Ellis. I want you every moment of every day, and I don't even mean your body, wonderful though that is. I just want you ."

She understood exactly what he meant because she felt the same.

His mouth was on her, licking and sucking, and she lay back against the cushions on the sofa, her hands in his tangled curls. This was bliss, and she had missed it so much. Could she reach her climax from this alone, without his fingers or his mouth or his cock between her thighs?

She thought so, but there was no chance to test the theory because he was rucking up her skirts, warm breath on her skin, and then his tongue slid into her damp heat to find that hard little button.

Ellis bit her wrist to stop herself crying out. It occurred to her that this was a very risky act on their part. Although the door was shut, anyone could enter the room at any moment. Why didn't she care? Because this was more important.

Owen was above her now, kneeling between her thighs, and she reached to fumble with the flap of his breeches. But he was ahead of her. His shaft freed, he lay down on top of her and set it at her entrance, and then he pushed inside.

There was a sound outside the door.

They both froze, gazing into each other's eyes, as the sound faded away into silence again. They needed to hurry.

Ellis felt her body around him, swollen and aching and wanting. She pushed herself fully onto his cock and he closed his eyes and looked as if he had gone to heaven. A moment later he was rocking against her, their bodies already so attuned, and she felt herself soaring.

Did she cry out? She may have. Anyway, he was kissing her again, muffling the sounds of ecstasy. He thrust deep inside her, holding himself there, his body trembling, his throat taut as he arched his head back.

And then they lay, replete, in each other's arms.

Ellis was certain that even had Sophia and Oldney and the whole household walked into the room, they would not have been able to move.

Gradually she came back to herself, a little amazed at their daring, and Owen moved to right himself and smooth down her skirts, refastening her bodice.

He smiled at her. "There," he assured her. "As good as new."

"Better than new," she replied.

"Are you angry with me? About the drawings?" he said earnestly, returning to their earlier conversation.

She shook her head, and realizing her hair was almost as wild as his, pushed it back over her shoulders. "No. And I don't want you drawing other women. Does that make me a horrible person, Owen? It is your work!"

Owen smoothed her cheek with his knuckles, lingering. "I'm beginning to rethink my artistic career," he admitted.

"Please... you do not need to change yourself for me."

He gave her one of his intent looks. "It isn't that, cariad . I will always be someone who expresses himself through his drawings, his paintings, but loving you has made me realize I need more than a hit picture book. You have inspired me, Ellis."

She wanted to ask him to explain, but he was rising to his feet, giving his clothing a last smooth over and a tug, setting himself to rights.

"You said something about a ball," he began. "Sorry, but my thoughts were otherwise engaged."

She smiled up at him through her lashes. "I'm not complaining." Then, with a sigh, she tried to be serious. "Yes, there is a ball tonight. We are to attend."

"I will be there."

"I wish..." She shook her head, then admitted, "I miss Hawthorne Lodge, Owen. I was happy there."

"You will be again." His hazel eyes were very green. "I promise, Ellis."

As she watched him leave, Ellis wanted to believe it was true.