Chapter 14

14

T he sun had set upon the disaster of a day, but the night air only grew hotter, filled with a heavy sultriness that made Phoebe’s face damp and her shift stick to her body. Not unlike the first time I snuck onto the Rockliffe estate .

She cast her lantern toward the lake, which had been rendered a glimmering black shadow. Were she to jump in and complete the dare from eight years prior, no one would see her in the darkness. She could shed her heavy gown, let the cool water rush over her body?—

Yet it would do nothing to cure what truly afflicted her.

She kept walking, keeping her eyes on the gravel path that led around the lake. She’d already made it down from the house and across the bridge, coming to a section she hadn’t traversed before. Although a long time ago, I stood above it, peeking through the trees at the top of the slope … She fanned her face, a new wave of fire spreading across her cheeks. Not even a weak breeze blew off the water to counteract the overbearing humidity. Everything was too still. Too weighty.

Suddenly , though, a sound beyond her slippers crunching against gravel broke through the silent air. Only the faintest rustle, but given how restless she’d grown, it made her ears prick and her head dart upward.

She spotted him right away, even before she raised her lantern, for in the midst of the blackness came a tiny glow in the distance. Lord Rockliffe , her light revealed as she brought it upward, standing alongside a tree near the lake and smoking a cheroot.

She pulled the lantern back to her side at once, glancing behind her into the darkness. He’d have already seen her, of course, but was it too late to run back in the opposite direction and pretend this hadn’t happened?

“ Miss Windham .” His call echoed through the night, his voice as heavy as the black, cloudy sky that seemed on the verge of breaking.

Too late, then . Her pulse throbbed unusually fast. Which was ridiculous. If she could live under his roof and sit at the same outdoor table as him and the woman he intended to marry, there was no reason she couldn’t exchange a few innocuous words with him before she returned inside for the evening.

She drove her legs forward, pressing along until she reached his section of the pathway and could set the lantern upon the gravel. “ Good evening, my lord.” She folded herself into a curtsey, trying to ignore the fact that the man in front of her was devoid of coat, waistcoat, and cravat. Hardly surprising given the weather conditions and that he likely thought he’d remain unobserved. He hadn’t known she would see the hollow of his throat or a hint of his bare chest, the surface smooth and muscled.

She brought her eyes up immediately, focusing on his face, and it became clear he’d been watching her. “ Is the hour not late for a stroll?” he asked, and even in the dimness, she could tell his features were strained.

Her heart wouldn’t stop racing, nor would her mind cease turning in circles. Yet she clasped her hands neatly in front of her, trying to appear pleasant. “ Lady Emily lost the new ribbon from her bonnet during the luncheon today. I thought I’d try finding it for her.”

He arched a brow. “ In the dark?”

“ Yes . No .” There suddenly seemed little point in prevaricating. “ I may have minimal hope of locating the ribbon tonight, but I wanted the air.”

“ Beaumont Manor does grow stifling.” He uttered the words more to the black expanse of lake than to her, taking a long draw from the cheroot before refocusing his attention. “ And how is Emily ?”

“ She’s well, my lord.” Phoebe could assure him of that much, at least. “ We had an agreeable dinner in her rooms, and she went to sleep easily, and …” and I have every reason to believe she will fully recover, and I’m certain she will let go of her anger in time, but if you were to render Lady Burville her new mother, you’d be making a mistake .

She pressed her lips together, shocked at how quickly the exclamation tried pushing its way to the forefront. She would never overstep by voicing it, of course. It was based only on a brief encounter and an odd intuition. And jealousy .

“ And I hope you don’t let what happened today dissuade you from spending time with her,” Phoebe continued, pushing down the thoughts that had no place, determined to express the ones that did, even though her throat felt thick. “ Please , be patient with her, my lord. She’s gone through so many upheavals, and the arrival of an unknown visitor provides yet another. I’m sure she’ll adjust given time.”

Lord Rockliffe stiffened, his eyes flaring dangerously in the darkness. “ To what do you believe she needs to adjust, exactly?”

A weight dropped in Phoebe’s stomach, the ground below her no longer feeling steady. “ I mean if …” Oh , why did she have to open her mouth? The last thing she wanted was to speak of it aloud, especially to him. But at the same time, if it was the truth, then why shy away from it? “ I mean if your guest becomes a … permanent resident here.”

He made that sound of his that suggested a laugh but devoid of humor. “ The speed at which gossip travels will never cease to amaze me. I’m not certain of exactly what you’ve heard, but because I can guess, let me make something clear.” He flung the cheroot to the ground, extinguishing the faint light beneath his boot. “ I’m not marrying goddamn Lady Burville !”

The impassioned words made her lean away, while simultaneously, a strange lightness cropped up inside her. Not marrying …

She’d been wrong. The gossip was wrong.

The concept had no time to settle, for in the next instant, his body came forward, looming over hers with all the rigidity of a boulder, all the heat of a blistering flame. A sturdy palm cupped the back of her neck, making her breath catch, and then, most devastatingly of all, a finger traced along her jawline. Moved to follow the curve of her bottom lip.

This was the moment when she was supposed to pull away. To forget her desire to run her tongue over his fingertip and taste the salt of his skin. To forget how it felt to have that finger inside her, driving her longing.

But she didn’t do that. She didn’t move at all except for her lips, which managed to release two whispered words beneath his caress. “ We shouldn’t.”

“ No .” His fingertip left her, leaving an instant void. “ We decidedly should not.”

“ It would be …” wicked, wonderful, pleasureful, sinful … “ Foolhardy ,” she managed, even as her heels rose off the ground. As her chin tilted upward.

“ Yes .” His face was so close, coming down to meet hers, his breath a hot trickle against her cheek. “ Very much so.”

A fat raindrop hit her forehead, fallen from a sky too heavy to hold it in. It was the last thing she absorbed before their lips collided, and everything ceased to exist but the searing press of his mouth.

The kiss was desperate, insistent, enough to make her legs wobble from the first moment. She twined her arms around his neck to anchor herself. Ran her hands through his hair, vaguely aware that the thick strands at his nape felt damp. Yet the realization flitted away as his fingers kneaded her lower back and familiar hardness pressed into her belly.

With each euphoric second they stayed that way, desire blossomed until all she could think of was more . More of his mouth, more of his touch, more of the hardness . She pressed her body tighter against his chest, releasing a muffled cry as his teeth sank gently into her bottom lip and he squeezed the globe of her bottom.

It was a wonder the low rumble in the sky caught her attention. Yet somewhere in the back of her pleasure-hazed mind, the concept registered. Thunder . Their lips drew apart in unison, and when she opened her eyes to peer at him, his face was wet. As was her own. She ran a finger over a soaked tendril of hair that stuck to the edge of her cheek, which emphasized what she’d somehow failed to notice. It was raining. Quite heavily, in fact, while a storm reverberated in the distance.

They would have to seek shelter. To go back to the house. She wasn’t too far gone to recognize that, although she remained unmoving, far more preoccupied with the need to keep kissing him than to find refuge from the elements.

Lord Rockliffe regained his senses first, pulling away to retrieve the spluttering lantern near her feet. She nearly cried out again, this time in frustration, as his body left hers. But then, he offered her his hand just as a flash of light brightened the sky, illuminating his lips while he uttered three fateful words. “ Come with me.”

Thunder cracked the moment her fingers twined with his, the dampness of his skin doing nothing to diminish its overpowering heat. He took off at a sprint, her legs falling into step alongside his, fire spreading through her veins. For right away, she realized: he didn’t guide them in the direction of the house.

Instead , they kept to the pathway on the far side of the lake, racing over gravel, veering off into the wet grass. The lantern’s glow fell upon a stone structure up ahead. The Doric temple, its imposing columns blurred behind the curtain of rain.

His grip on her hand tightened, his footfalls growing more insistent. Once again, understanding glinted in her whirling head, and with the next flash of lightning, a jolt of longing surged through her core. They were running, nearly at the point of reaching shelter. Nearly at the point of reaching so much else, too.

He pulled her beneath the overhang, putting an end to the deluge that had already soaked them through. The rain, however, made little difference to her. She could focus on nothing but his hand, which released hers so he could jiggle the door latch. So he could push it open and take hold of her again, leading her inside.

A burst of cooler air hit her at once from the open, high-ceilinged space. The lantern flickered over a gleaming marble floor, over alcoves in the walls that held urns and statues. Everything was ornate and intricate, awe-inspiring?—

And lasted only a second, for as the door slammed closed behind them, the flame sputtered and vanished, plunging them into blackness.

She gasped, blinking, trying to maintain her bearings.

Except then, lips slammed into hers once more, and his body came up against hers, pinning her to the door. She didn’t need sight when they were like this. If anything, the dark only rendered his caresses more intense. Made her more aware when his fingers pulled at the tapes of her dress and the laces of her stays.

Despite the heat radiating through her, she shivered as fabric slid down her body and pooled at her feet. All that remained was her shift, sticking uncomfortably to her skin from the mixture of perspiration and rain. Until suddenly, the cotton tore and dropped, and his lips were no longer on her lips but on her breast, sucking her nipple into his mouth.

Her moan ripped through the darkness, her body awash in sensation from the wicked strokes of his tongue. His fingers joined, too, lavishing attention on the other side, turning her nipple into a hardened peak with a few flicks of his thumb.

She tossed her head back, fumbling in front of her until she located and clasped his shoulders. If he kept this up, her knees would grow weak, for each stroke he bestowed wound her more tightly, making desire flare into a blaze between her thighs.

He didn’t keep it up, though. For a devastating moment, she found herself devoid of his mouth and fingers, and his shoulders dropped from within her grasp. Yet just as quickly, his hands connected with her hips, and she could detect the shadow of his body shifting, sinking to the floor, until he was on his knees in front of her. Just like the scene in the book .

Her breath rushed away in a tottering exhale, and she was unable to inhale again. The tip of his tongue skirted over her thigh just above the edge of her stocking. A teasing, featherlight caress that made her intimate muscles clench.

“ I haven’t stopped thinking about this.” His words were hot against her bare skin, his tongue a fiery brand that traced a path upward, approaching the place where she ached with need. “ Ever since the night you came on my fingers, I’ve been desperate to know how you taste.”

She sucked in a gasping breath, the air barely hitting her lungs before his tongue swiped over her sex, and her breath turned into a cry. He gave an approving hum, the sound—the sensation —causing her legs to wobble. His grip on her tightened, holding her hips secure to the door while she steadied herself. Then , a strong hand slid down her thigh and to the back of her knee, coaxing it to rise until her leg lay sprawled over his shoulder. A position that left her completely exposed to him.

“ You are even sweeter than I perceived.” He licked along the seam of her thigh where arousal dampened her skin, and although the temple was pitch black, she knew he was peering up at her. “ My one regret is that I cannot see your pretty quim. But I suppose I’ll have to use my imagination.”

She had just enough time to grip his hair before his tongue rediscovered her secret flesh. And this time, he didn’t stop near her entrance but continued upward, exploring her folds. Coming to the bundle of nerves where she needed his touch, circling over it, taking it into his mouth.

This was the best sort of torture. This was bliss . Breathy sighs floated through the darkness as her desire built, and she was vaguely aware that they came from her. But what difference did it make? There was no one to hear, only the two of them in a deserted temple in a thunderstorm.

Her legs were quivering again, her muscles impossibly taut. She was nearing a precipice, each stroke of his tongue hurtling her closer until all at once, release crashed over her, and she let out a final cry, her body convulsing with jolt after jolt of pleasure.

His mouth stayed upon her, continuing to lightly tease and caress, until the last of her shudders died away. Only then did he unhook her leg from his shoulder and rise to his feet, pulling her into a fervent kiss.

His lips tasted of her . The thought sent a fresh shower of sparks flaring between her legs. He’d given her indescribable pleasure, brought it all to a peak, and still, her mind stayed focused on more . How could it do otherwise when his breaths were jagged and his arousal pressed against her heated skin?

Sightlessly , she reached for his fall, groping in the darkness for the buttons that would free him. He made a low noise in his throat, breaking the kiss so he could pull his wet shirt over his head and toss it away. The sound of the bunched-up linen hitting the floor came at the same moment she unhooked the final button, and suddenly, so many bare surfaces of him were hers.

She stepped forward and slowly pushed herself to her tiptoes, shivering as the dusting of hair across his chest abraded her sensitive nipples. Shivering again when the silky hardness of his erection brushed over her mound.

He hissed out a breath, his hands clamping around her waist, preventing her from moving any farther. “ Phoebe .” His voice sounded raw, her name coming out as part warning, part plea.

“ Please , don’t stop,” she begged, her words beginning to crack. He’d never called her by her first name before—had never let his guard down enough to permit the intimacy—and the desperation he placed in it caused a new wave of desire to ignite in her core.

Yet he didn’t move. Didn’t say another word. The only sounds to fill the space were their heavy breaths, the rain beating on the roof, and the weakening thunder.

That’s when, beneath the fog of anticipation, a glimmer of understanding hit her. He refused to rush. Wanted her to be certain. He’d said as much as she sat on his lap in the study, consumed by her spiraling need, just as she was now.

Tell him . A little voice cropped up in her head, fueled by a longing to render him as unhinged as he’d rendered her. Fueled by proximity to the lake . All these years, she’d shared her secret with Clara alone. However , the moment had come. She wanted him to understand the depth of her longing.

“ I have a story for you,” she murmured into the blackness. “ About how, a long time ago, during an idle summer day at the vicarage, I accepted a dare. Would you like to know what it was?”

He gave no response beyond a heavy exhale, the rapid thrum of his heart echoing against her own. Which she knew, beyond a doubt, meant yes .

“ I dare you to go to Beaumont Manor and swim in Lord Rockliffe’s lake .” She repeated Clara’s words as a whisper against his throat. Sensed a muscle tic in his jaw. “ The day was hot, and I received assurances that the marquess was not in residence. And so, being a foolhardy girl of eighteen, I went.

“ I stood in the trees and unfastened my gown”—she bit down sharply on her lip, suppressing a moan as his rigid manhood twitched against her—“and imagined how blissful the water would feel. It turns out, though, that I never got to experience it. My information, you see, was wrong. You were at home. And you were swimming.”

This time, she got only silence in return. Not even the sound of a breath.

“ I watched you,” she said, a low, heated utterance that broke into the stillness. “ I didn’t mean to, but I couldn’t look away. The sight of you moving through the water—it enthralled me. Made me feel heated and desperate, like I wished to place my hand between my legs and pretend it was yours?—”

His mouth collided with hers, and words vanished, for they were whirling away from the door, stumbling toward … she couldn’t tell in the darkness. Didn’t care, either, as long as their bodies remained entwined, his tongue teasing her, his erection pushing more demandingly against her thighs, promising so much pleasure to come.

Except suddenly, he halted, wrenching his mouth away from hers. “ Jesus , Phoebe .” His voice was strained, guttural, the hands that remained at her waist beginning to quake. “ Do you know what you do to me?”

If it was anything like what he did to her, his body felt ready to combust. Nonetheless , he didn’t move, and longing hung in the air between them, heavy and overwhelming. He was still uncertain, she realized with a jolt, about crossing a boundary with her that held consequences not able to be undone.

Tell him . The voice in her head returned, although this time, an icy flutter of nerves cut through the heat pooling in her stomach. The admission about the lake incident had glided off her tongue, the words natural and seamless. Driving her desire. This next subject, though, was different, something unspeakable that she’d always kept concealed. But if they were going to continue their intimacy, he should know the truth.

“ I’m sure about this. I want you, I …” The voice she’d found the power to use broke, and she paused to bite down on her lower lip, struggling with the words to keep going. There was no delicate way; she would just have to say it. “ This isn’t my first time,” she burst out, her heartbeat a rapid thud. “ You won’t ruin me. I’m not a virgin.”

She snapped her lips together, silence overtaking the temple once more. How infuriating not to have the ability to see his face, to be unaware how his features shifted upon hearing the revelation. Perhaps she’d shocked him. Perhaps he, too, believed the countless descriptors her relations had bestowed upon her. Shameful . Immoral .

“ Good .” All of a sudden, his mouth was by her ear, his fingertips sinking deeper into her waist. “ I don’t want to go slowly.”

And then, he grabbed her hand, and they began staggering once more, his footfalls rapid as they crossed the space. Everything was blackness, yet he seemed to know where he was going. Knew the exact moment to stop, guiding her hand to a cool stone surface.

She ran her fingertips over a flat edge and up to stone that was curved and dimpled, trying to make sense of the object beneath her touch. A pedestal , she registered, containing one of the urns she’d spotted before the faltering lantern made her surroundings vanish.

“ Hold on to this.” Lord Rockliffe’s voice came from behind her, and he gave her a split second to obey before his hands went to her hips, tugging them backward.

She gasped, bracing herself with her elbows against the pedestal, the backs of her legs connecting with the wool of his gaping breeches and hardness that he guided between her thighs.

She’d seen this position in the book, too. The woman bent across the arm of a bench. The man entering her from behind. One of many images that had caused delicious tendrils of warmth to spread across her skin, that had caused her to lie restless under the bedclothes and imagine ?—

She let out a moan as his rigid length pushed into her, and all other thoughts darted away.

“ Phoebe .” He groaned along with her, leaning down so his lips hovered above her nape. “ You feel so good.”

Oh , so did he. He stretched and filled her in the best way possible. With a featherlight kiss to her neck, he eased back and pushed forward again, providing the first hint of friction. Just the tiniest taste of how wonderful it would feel to have him moving within her in a relentless rhythm.

Desire radiated through her body and surrounded her, seeming to fill the air they breathed. Yet although it had turned nearly all-consuming, the tiniest spur of something else managed to push its way into the back of her mind. A warning. She may want nothing but him, now, but she wasn’t quite so far gone to recognize how she’d be foolish not to have a care for the future.

“ When we do this, my lord, we …” She turned her head to face him despite how she could detect little more than blackness. “ We cannot risk there being a child between us,” she said, her words breathy and rushed. It was a wonder she’d managed them at all.

The sound of his brisk inhale filled her ears, and his hold on her hips tightened. “ No . There will not be. It’s …” Now , he was the one struggling for what to say, leaving a heavy beat of silence between them. After an indeterminate number of seconds, she could sense rather than see his nod. Could feel his lips as they brushed along hers. “ All right,” he murmured, a low but determined rasp.

And then, he was thrusting into her with hurried, powerful strokes, making her inhibition sink like a stone cast into the ocean and her pleasure soar to the sky.

His hand traveled up the front of her body, capturing her breast, thumbing her nipple. She made a sound, trying to make it resemble yes or more , although it rang more like a nonsensical cry of desperation. Regardless , his fingers trailed back down, skimming her abdomen and navel, finding the peak that contained the heart of her yearning.

She couldn’t hold on. It was too much; her muscles were tightening again, her limbs trembling.

“ That’s right, sweet.” His thrusts deepened, his finger moving in insistent circles. “ Come for me.”

She shattered on command, her chest collapsing against the edge of the pedestal as blissful waves overtook her once more. Her muscles pulsed around him, drawing him in, but with a groan and a sudden rush of movement, he was gone, his seed spurting against her thigh.

She didn’t know how long it took for the last of the spasms to fade or for the world to come drifting back. Only that after an unknown amount of time, she became aware of his chest sinking onto her back, draping over her like a shield, and that above them, the rain on the roof had diminished to a soft patter.

She was loath to move, unable to shake the sense that even one wrong twitch would take this satiated bubble they’d settled in and burst it. Yet when his weight shifted, and sturdy hands coaxed her to release the pedestal and turn around, she found her limbs didn’t become any less pliant, nor did he retreat. She still couldn’t see him, but she could sense him. Could detect him raising his arm, relishing the moment when his fingertip found the edge of her mouth and his lips followed, pulling her into a languid embrace. Her heart skittered in her chest, creating little fluttery sensations. Dangerous sensations.

She’d known all along that living at Beaumont Manor would only lead her to trouble. But in this moment, she couldn’t regret it.