Page 88 of Nothing But a Rakehell
He came back to himself minutes later, when her fingers began to run lightly through his hair. “Well,” she said faintly. “No wonder they won’t let the young ladies get a taste of that.”
He chuckled against her soft skin.
“Was I . . . Was it . . .?” For the first time, she sounded hesitant.
“It was utterly amazing.”
“Oh, good.” Now she sounded a bit smug. “It felt so, to me, but I have no basis for comparison.”
He tilted his head slightly so he could look at her with one eye. “Neither do I.”
She flushed with pleasure.
He closed his eyes again and turned them both to their sides so he could nestle around her. She sighed with satisfaction and relaxed into his embrace.
He had no idea how long they lay there before she stirred. “We are going to be sun-browned in some very hard to explain places if we don’t get up and get dressed.”
“If Lucy dares question you, lay the blame right at her door,” he said, yawning. But he sat up and they helped each other to dress and he obligingly crawled about, searching for lost hairpins.
He was ready first, so he scurried back for the picnic basket and he perched next to her and ate brown bread while she sat, her arms stretched up and over her head, tucking her hair back into order. He leaned in and gave her a bite and a quick kiss—and it was such an intimate thing, almost more so than what they had just done to each other. It felt so right. So much like what he’d longed for his entire life. She felt like home. He closed his eyes against the rise of emotion.
“Keswick?” She’d sensed his change in mood.
“You said I changed you,” he said, low. “But you did the same to me. I fought the good fight. I tried to keep my distance. Told myself we could be calm, platonic, friendly.” He gave a wry laugh. “Foolish. Now it’s here. Everything I feared.”
“Surely there’s nothing to fear,” she said quickly. “I haven’t asked for anything beyond today. It can be enough.”
He shook his head. “This wanting is not going to go away.”
“I know your father is an obstacle. Perhaps we could hide our attachment from him—”
“Secret lovers?” he asked acidly.
She gave a shiver. “It does sound thrilling,” she said hopefully.
He kissed her hand. “I doubt we’d be able to hide how we feel.”
“Likely not,” she said on a sigh. She folded her arms, the picture of belligerence. “I refuse to regret this.”
“I won’t regret it either, just the fact that we cannot repeat it.”
“I don’t want to lose you,” she said quietly.
She still didn’t understand that they had never really belonged to each other. Because no matter how much she might affect him, one thing would never change. He would never allow her to pay the high price of caring for him.
“I will see you this evening. We can talk and laugh, perhaps. But this is our true goodbye.” He kissed her hand. “And it has been lovely.”
She heaved a sigh and nodded.
“Let’s go back. And try not to get caught.”
She climbed to her feet. “We won’t be caught. I’m not giving any one of those scoundrels an ounce more of triumph or satisfaction.”
Chapter 19
Mr. Simon escorted Glory down the hall and toward the ballroom, lending his arm as they moved in the wave of guests leaving dinner. They had been seated next to each other, where she answered his questions about how she and Miss Munroe and Keswick had literally fallen into the discovery of the new fossil specimen. He had many questions about the size of the boulder, and how far it had been from the cliff face and what sort of rocks had been collected around it. She answered them all as best as she could, and then found that she barely had to speak again at all.
First, because Mr. Simon had a great many amusing stories about his travels for the British Museum and he clearly enjoyed telling them. And second, because he didn’t seem to have been fed well on any of them. He tucked into each course of Hope’s dinner with enthusiasm. Glory didn’t mind. It allowed her to blame his slow and careful ambulation on overindulgence instead of over-concern for her lameness.
