Page 19 of A Rogue for Christmas
That wouldn’t do. She’d just have to go to his bedroom instead.
She was on her feet and about to open her door when she realized she didn’t know where Wentworth slept. Frowning, she began to pace. Wentworth had seen her leave her bedchamber that first evening, but Violet and Clara had been with her. He might not know whose room they were leaving. Even now, he could be waiting out in the hallway for her to appear.
She rushed to her door and swung it open. She looked first one way, then the other.
Disappointment crashed through her. The hallway was empty.
And then Wentworth materialized from the shadows.
She could only smile, anticipation surging, as she waited for him to enter the room. He was silent as he turned to lock the door.
And then she was in his arms, her body pressed against the door as he ravaged her mouth in a kiss that spoke of his own impatience.
They spent several minutes that way, wrapped up in each other as they kissed their fill. She threaded her fingers through his dark hair and reveled in the feel of him pressed against her, the hard length of his arousal pressing against her belly.
Finally, he lifted his head and gazed down at her, his eyes dark with desire.
“I thought you would never open this door. I was beginning to worry this was your sister’s room.” He cupped her chin and traced her lower lip with a thumb. “Are you sure you wish me to stay?”
Lily had told Iris that when it was time, she would know whether she should proceed. She searched inward for a hint of doubt and could find none. Only anticipation and a sense of certainty.
She nodded. “But I’m afraid I used up my store of bravery in issuing this invitation. You need to tell me what to do.”
“I’m trying to convince myself that I’m not dreaming.”
He seemed so earnest, but Iris couldn’t understand why. Surely there wasn’t a woman alive who’d be able to resist this man.
She cupped his cheek. “I can assure you that you’re not dreaming.”
She wound her fingers through his hair again, enjoying the feel of the short dark strands between her fingers, and urged his head down. And then he kissed her again.
Iris was determined not to worry about the future. They would have tonight, and perhaps tomorrow night if Wentworth wasn’t disappointed. When it was time to leave, they’d go their separate ways.
She would be headed to Seaford and Lily’s estate, where her family was joining them for Christmas. She hoped that Wentworth would head to his own estate so he could spend Christmas with his family. But she wouldn’t ask him. If he was returning to London to seek out companionship with another woman, she didn’t want to know about it.
Perhaps when the season began again in a few short months, she’d be ready to move past this man. Find someone who intrigued her even a fraction as much as he did. But until that day, she was going to embrace the brief time they had together.
“Iris.”
Her name was a low growl, and it sent a shiver of longing through her. She wasn’t just some woman he was spending the night with. He’d been obsessed with her, curious about her, and his need was obvious in that one harshly spoken word.
She realized that she didn’t know his given name.
He trailed kisses along her jaw, then settled his mouth at the side of her throat. Desire pooled low in her belly, which shocked her. She’d seen Seaford kiss Lily in a similar fashion. Had her sister also experienced this sudden onslaught of need?
“Yes, Wentworth?” She was surprised by her husky tone.
When he raised his head to stare down at her, his brows were drawn together. “That won’t do.”
Her thoughts were addled, and she didn’t understand what she’d done wrong. “My lord?”
His frown turned into a scowl. “That’s even worse. My given name is Henry.”
The admission surprised her. It seemed like such an ordinary name for such an extraordinary man. “Henry.” She tried it out, but now it was her turn to frown. No, that didn’t suit him. “Can I call you Harry?” That seemed more casual, not quite so formal. She could imagine a Harry doing unspeakable things to her. Henry, not so much.
His smile widened into a grin. “No one has ever called me that before.”
She must have overstepped. “I apologize—”
