Page 19 of A Widow's Perfect Rogue
“As much as if she were my own,” she finished. “I had no one to love…and no one loved me. They’d essentially removed me from everyone I knew and anyone who cared about me. As I mentioned before, my father had not even tried to fight the rumors that had begun to circulate about me and you, the day after the Duke of Clarence’s ball. He saw my ruin as a chance to clear his debts,” she choked out.
Thomas blinked back his tears, knowing the pain she must have gone through—the desolation. The loneliness.
“There’s so much I want to say to you,” he rasped out. “But I’m afraid I’ll botch it.”
“I don’t think you will,” she said softly. “Botch it, that is.”
He smiled at her honest reply. “Dearest Frankie…” Lifting her chin, he cupped the side of her face, tracing her lips with his fingertip and then his mouth. He kissed her, gently at first, tenderly tasting her tears. Her lips trembled, and as she responded to his kiss, his passion soared.
Slanting his mouth, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her with all the passion that had been inside him these five long years. He reveled in her ardent response as she matched him kiss for kiss. As he tenderly explored her mouth, he could taste the wine from luncheon on her lips and tongue and feel the racing of their combined heartbeats. His senses reeled with the sweet scent of lavender. Her scent. She stretched one hand around his neck, while her right hand slid down his chest, tucking into his jacket. Her touch seared him. Everything about this moment was magical, and he never wanted it to stop. Her soft moan as she pressed herself against him, nearly undid him. But they were in a park…in public. After a long moment, he pulled back. “Dearest Frankie,” he said again. “I cannot wipe away the years of misery and pain from your life, but I can do everything in my power to make sure you never feel that way again. I want you, Frankie, with every fiber of my body and soul. I want you in my life, forever.”
She looked into his eyes. “Then, you can accept Maggie, without shame?”
“Good God, yes! I’m half in love with her already. She is adorable, and it’s clear to anyone and everyone thatyouare her mother.”
I c-cannot tell you what it m-means to me to hear you say that.” A sob escaped her, and her hand covered her mouth.
He gathered her close and soothed her tears with sweet kisses and whispered words of tenderness.
“Goodness, how I like your kisses, Thomas,” she said, leaning back in his arms after her tears had subsided. “I think this was our first…and it was better than I had ever dreamed.”
“You dreamed of me?” He hadn’t thought she would or had.
“Always…even when I fought it. Many times, I would twine my hands about your neck and wake up clinging to a tear-stained pillow.”
He leaned in and kissed her once more, reveling in her sweet taste and the fire her touch sent through his body. He pulled back and gazed into her eyes. “I could never tire of your kisses, Frankie. But I fear our privacy is limited here. Do you have plans for tomorrow?”
“I received an invitation to the Duke of Clarence’s charity picnic the day after tomorrow. But nothing for tomorrow,” she said, smiling expectantly.
Taking her hand, he clasped it between his own. “Then, agree to go riding with me through Hyde Park.”
“I would love that. I haven’t ridden in an age. As much as I hate to leave this spot, perhaps we should get back to your mother’s and check on Maggie and the dog. Goodness, we still haven’t named her.”
“I’m certain that’s been a hallmark of fun with Maggie this afternoon,” he said, still holding her hand. “No doubt, Maggie and my family have come up with a most memorable name.”
CHAPTER6
The door slammed behind Endora as she strode into the modiste’s shop.
The shock caused the proprietress to jerk her head up. “Bonjour, Lady Deville, how nice to see you again,” Madame Soyeuse said, setting down the deep blue fabric on the counter. “How can I be of help?”
“I need a dress for the Duke of Clarence’s Charity Fete,” Endora said, as she quickly scanned the bolts of fabrics behind the counter and the remnants on tables in the center of the room. “What is the latest red you have?”
“We have just received this lovely red chintz. It would be perfect for the garden fete.” The modiste drew a bolt of red fabric from beneath her counter. “It’s a lovely fabric and will go quickly.”
Endora examined it with a shrewd eye. The fabric felt silky to the touch, although she knew it was only a substitute for the touch she truly craved. She fanned herself as a flush of heat enveloped her. She had to have this dress made by tomorrow. Her other red gown was completely ruined at the ball thanks to that chitLucy Somebody’sinability to hold her champagne. Madame’s dresses were one-of-a-kind and essential to every lady’s wardrobe.
“My supplier assures me these Indian chintzes are in tremendous demand on the continent. The Eastern Star Shipping Company has a penchant for finding the most beautiful silks and satins,” the modiste continued, smoothing her hands over the print cloth. “As you know, nothing lasts long in my shop. I have already designed several garden dresses with the new Chintz prints.
“Ooh, I love this! The rose print is so tiny and delicate; it draws the eye to it.” A delicious shiver ran down her spine at the thought of the viscount’s gaze traveling down her body, followed by his hands. Endora felt another wave of heat shoot through her body. She would like nothing better than to entice the viscount to examine her favors, preferably in a secluded alcove at the garden party.
With a bit of luck, the hapless Widow Gallwey will stay home and tend to her brat.Unfortunately, if the scene in Hyde Park was any sign, Latham was still sniffing around Gallwey’s skirts; it made Endora want to scream.
A man as virile as the viscount should have a woman who can satisfy all his appetites.Endora was the woman for him—not that demure ninny. A delicious thrill tingled between her thighs at the thought of all she could give him.But most importantly, the man was filthy rich, and she needed his funds as much as she needed his…affection.
This silly modiste will not deny me.“The Chintz is nice,” she said in a haughty tone, “but did you get my note regarding the taffeta I wanted?”
“Oui oui,madame.” The modiste lifted a still-wrapped package. “Your special order arrived just this morning. This party is to be a very popular event,n’est ce pas?”
