Page 43 of The Last Chance
“Indeed.”
Silence descended.
He had made her promise not to discuss their amorous interlude, yet he was beyond desperate to know her thoughts. Had the urge to kiss him again kept her awake last night? Did she know they were so well suited it was like they’d been made for each other? Had she touched herself and thought of him? Because he’d taken himself in hand twice this morning—Joanna, the only word on his lips.
A feminine giggle echoed from the study, along with Daventry’s playful request for the lady’s silence.
Aaron would wager a king’s ransom that Sybil Daventry was the recipient of her husband’s attentions. The man made sure everyone knew how deeply he loved his wife.
A bang preceded the faint feminine groan.
Miss Lovelace chuckled. “Perhaps he knocked something off the desk, and the lady is frustrated.”
“Frustratedis not a word I would use to describe Daventry’s wife.”
The Lord must have granted the man extra hours each day. How did he manage to be an exceptional enquiry agent and a devoted husband?
The study door flew open and the vivacious Sybil Daventry appeared, her vibrant red hair a little tousled, her lips red and swollen.
“Mr Chance. Miss Lovelace. Good morning.” The lady’s cheeks were flushed, and she wore a smile as broad as a summer horizon. “Sorry to have delayed your meeting, but I had important business with my husband.” She touched her abdomen affectionately, the child she carried a testament to the couple’s abiding love.
Daventry came to stand in the doorway, but he stared at his wife, not them, as if his hunger for her had never been sated.
Aaron knew the feeling all too well.
“I’ll be home for supper tonight.” Daventry spoke like the words were a code for something salacious. “Tell the boys I’ll take them riding in the morning before breakfast.”
For no explicable reason, Aaron’s throat tightened. Thoughts of an alternative future bombarded his mind: Miss Lovelace pushing his coat off his shoulders, kissing him frantically, a wild and wicked welcome home.
Daventry greeted them and ushered them into his study, insisting they take a seat while he escorted his wife to their carriage.
Aaron drew out the chair for Miss Lovelace, his fingers brushing her arm as she sat. He should be grateful for small mercies. When she returned to The Burnished Jade, he’d be back to stealing glimpses of her through the study window.
“Do you regret asking me to kiss you last night?” He took the seat beside her and stretched his legs, crossing them at the ankles to look relaxed, not so pent up with need he could barely breathe. “You’ve been quiet since breakfast.”
Miss Lovelace smiled. “I thought we were going to pretend it didn’t happen. You made me promise never to mention it again.”
“I’m just curious. We barely spoke afterwards and?—”
“Because you left to take your frustration out on the boxing bag in your basement.”
“I’m not sure you appreciate the effort it took to walk away.” They had been a few feet from his chamber, a short distance from his bed. The desire to have her burned so hot in his veins, he feared he might combust.
She nodded like she understood perfectly. “You mean the war between your mind, body and conscience. I have no such issue.”
Stillness settled over them again. The mantel clock ticked as incessantly as the question echoing in his mind.
“Do you regret it?” he repeated, needing an answer.
Miss Lovelace looked at him, her eyes bright with thememory. “Not for a second. It was the most thrilling moment of my life.”
He found himself smiling. “You’re an exceptional kisser.”
“And you’re a surprisingly passionate man.”
Though he wanted to look into her eyes and lose himself in those cool blue pools, he averted his gaze. “Now you know why I gave you Delphine’s room, though I suspect it’s not as cold as you portrayed.”
“I’m sure it’s chilly in the dead of winter.”
