Page 66 of A Devil in Silk
Yet she wanted him.
With a desperation that made it hard to breathe.
It was selfish, she knew. But had she not earned the right to seize life with both hands? Should she not relish this fleeting moment of happiness? If she could?—
She jolted, panic rising. Had she silently admitted she’d die for him? Heavens. What did that mean?
“Are you unwell, Clara?” The low rumble of Bentley’s voice stirred the fine hairs on her skin. “You’ve been quiet all morning. Are you thinking about my mother’s letter?” His gaze moved languidly to her lips, her throat, her breasts. “Or how you came apart with me nestled between your soft thighs last night?”
Heat flooded her cheeks. She swallowed, trying to summon her usual confidence. “Both. Which is precisely the problem.”
“Ignore the letter,” he said with a determination that surprised her. “I’m a grown man and make my own decisions. I made a promise to you. A promise I intend to keep.”
“A promise to help me complete my list?”
“A promise to make you smile, not leave you looking glum. I thought we were making memories to last a lifetime. Heaven knows we both need them.”
Those glorious memories played in her mind like a forbidden song, drowning out all reason: the magical Lantern Ring, thewild kiss with the wind rustling her hair, another so slow and tender it left her weak to her bones. The laughter. The tears. Her world shattering into a million pieces, all because of his skilled mouth.
“Other people are determined to complicate things,” she admitted.
“No one’s opinion matters to me but yours.”
He always said the right thing. Thoughtful words that softened a woman’s heart and weakened her resolve.
“If only we could be reckless without hurting anyone.”
His smile reached his eyes, eyes so blue she could drown in them. “Oh, we can be reckless. We owe no one an explanation. We continue as we have done, carving moments we’ll always treasure.”
This man’s allure was too powerful to resist.
She’d need a will of iron to keep her distance.
“I’m not worried for myself,” she said, masking feelings she dared not reveal. If he realised how deeply she cared, he might make leaving London impossible.
“And you’re my only consideration, Clara. I don’t want to make life more difficult for you.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “Life seems surprisingly easy when we’re making mischief.”
“Then let’s not permit other people to interfere.” He offered his hand, the gesture hinting they were equals, a silent nod to her quest for independence.
She shook it, but he didn’t let go right away. His thumb brushed lazily across her knuckles, warmth seeping into her skin until her pulse stumbled. The simple contact was enough to summon the memory of his mouth on hers, the way her breath mingled with his until the world had fallen away.
What a hypocrite she was. She spoke of freedom as if she prized it above all else, yet in truth she longed for him more than her next breath. Perhaps that simply made her … human.
He quirked a brow. “A curricle race along Rotten Row tonight? Once you’ve mastered the basics, we’ll look at improving your technique.”
It was a sensible suggestion, all things considered, yet temptation whispered louder. “Let’s follow Signora Conti’s advice instead.”
His lips curled into a smile that promised trouble. “Practice falling onto each other’s mouths as often as possible?”
“Yes, while taking to the waters at Porretta’s. Can you secure a private bathing chamber for tonight?”
A roguish glint lit his eyes as he stroked his jaw. His gaze slid over her, promising far more than bathing. “Consider it done.”
Clara’s senses leapt to life. The warm mineral waters would be nothing compared to the heat they made together.
Miss Picklescott lived alone above the print shop on the brow of Snow Hill, a slope notorious for causing more accidents than all the City streets combined.
