Page 18 of An Earl by Any Other Name
She realized her eyes had closed. With a little sigh, she met his gaze. Fires burned in his eyes, the searing heat of his own desire an almost tangible caress.
“Do you know how beautiful you are?” The tips of their noses touched as he continued to stroke her. When his thumb swept over the bundle of nerves, she jolted as though from an electric shock.
“You are beautiful, Ivy, so beautiful it makes me ache.”
She had never cared before about having an effect on a man. Beauty was often a curse because men would see only her face and care so little for what was in her mind, but Leo was her real weakness. If he thought she was beautiful, then she was. It did funny things to her heart and scared her witless.
His fingers between her legs became more insistent, and she shifted restlessly against him. He held her, moving with her whenever she twisted and writhed as though they were fashioned of the same body and soul. If she withdrew, he followed; if she pressed toward him, he gave way, like one connected being.
Their mouths joined again, and she dug her hands into his hair, trying to attach herself to him, press into him as much as she could. A tightness coiled in her belly and a ripple of fear followed. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe as her body started a furious flight toward the sky, yet she didn’t leave Leo’s lap.
“Let me see your eyes.”
The primal sound jarred her and spurred her those last few gasping breaths to a place she’d never experienced. Her eyes locked with his, and she clung to him as the tension in her body exploded in a blinding wave of pleasure. She was dying. Surely nothing so powerful, so wonderful could exist on earth. The captivating gleam of his eyes absorbed her soul, consuming her. Moonlight and firelight shared space in his spellbinding stare. His lips were parted and his warm breath fanned her face. The past held no power to what lay between them in that moment. He wasn’t a young man, and she wasn’t the girl called Button anymore. The distance of time that once separated them was gone. They were simply lovers, exploring carnal desires and lost in the ecstasy. How was it possible to feel such intimacy with a man she hadn’t seen in so many years?
“My God, Ivy,” he whispered, his fingers still moving inside her. She responded with a gasp as little twitches of echoing pleasure shot through her. He slowly removed his hand and held her close to him, as though he sought to protect her.
“That was your first…wasn’t it.” It was not a question.
She nodded and was relieved it was too dark for him to see her blush.
“I am honored that you shared it with me.” His voice was rough. He kissed her soundly, lulling her body into a state of bliss. It would have been so easy to stay there in his arms, enjoying the intimacy, but deep in her heart she knew it couldn’t last, knew it was a huge mistake.
I should never have let him kiss me, let him touch me. She didn’t want to know what it felt like to fall in love with him, not when she knew she could never be a part of his life. We’re worlds apart. Leo couldn’t give up his set ways; the bonds of tradition were too strong for him to shake, and she would never be able to marry a man like that. Her dreams of being independent and having all the rights entitled to men meant she had a lonely path ahead of her. She knew she could never be happy if she wasn’t free and didn’t have a voice about her own life.
Somewhere in the distance a clock chimed. Leo continued to hold her, but she pushed away from his chest. When he let go, she stood, smoothing her gown with trembling hands.
“Would you like to retire to my chambers?” he suggested in a low voice.
She did not miss the hopeful note to his tone. The reality of her actions sank in and she tensed.
“We cannot do this, my lord.” Everything was ruined. She was a fool. Sharing Leo’s bed was a dream she couldn’t afford. He still intended to marry Miss Pepperwirth, and she couldn’t drop passionate work as a suffragette just to embrace a moment of passionate madness. It didn’t matter how wonderful his arms felt around her or how gloriously he kissed. What mattered was that she needed to focus on her future, which did not include falling for a man who would never understand her or believe in her equality. He may have been her Prince Charming as a child, but he couldn’t be her prince now. A lady didn’t need rescuing in today’s society. She deserved more from a man than whispered words of romance. She deserved property rights and voting, and until she found a man who believed in that as strongly as she did, she would stay unmarried even if that meant letting love pass her by.
“Please, I insist you call me Leo.” He reached for her, and she thrust a hand out, warding him off. If he touched her again, it would only remind her of pleasure, and saying no would be that much harder.
“This was a mistake.”
“Mistake?” His lips pursed and his brows lowered over his eyes. “I do not make mistakes, Miss Leighton. We shared something that we both thoroughly enjoyed. Do not deny it.”
It was a challenge but she wouldn’t rise to it. “We ought never to have done it, regardless of enjoyment. Please, excuse me.”
She tried to slide past him but his fingers curled around her arm, dragging her to a halt.
“I’m not finished with you,” he threatened, and tried to pull her closer. “You and I will talk. I will not allow you to walk away after what you’ve said.”
A spike of fury lanced through her, and she slapped him. Hard. His hands dropped and she retreated.
“Never threaten me, my lord, with words or otherwise.”
His eyes widened. “I would never—” He shook his head angrily. “Make whatever judgments about me you like, but I do not ever hurt women, or force them. I wanted you to explain yourself and not just storm off, which clearly you are about to do.”
She straightened her shoulders and raised her chin. “I do not have to explain myself to you or anyone.” She spun on her heel and left before he could say another word. If she could get far enough away, he might not hear the sound of her heart splintering.
Chapter 8
Dawn was barely teasing the horizon above the old stone Gothic church when Ivy pressed a gloved hand on the waist-high wooden gate to the church’s cemetery. It creaked in the morning silence. Somewhere in the distance a thrush called out a warning, but Ivy knew she was alone. She’d left Hampton before dawn to come here unseen. Not even her father knew she was here.
Lifting her skirts with one hand, she navigated a path along the graves. The grass whispered beneath her boots as she passed by each weathered stone. Finally she found the one she’d been looking for. Her mother’s name was carved deep into the tombstone beneath the cherubic face of a baby angel with tiny wings peeping out from above its shoulders. She clutched the bouquet of white dahlias to her chest. A deep ache welled up inside her.
