Page 63 of Burning Secrets of a Lady's Pen
Something more than that physical tie between them.
It was like a rope that bound them, circled in the center of his chest leading to hers. Always leading to hers.
Something behind them stopped him before he could declare his love again, a soft creaking that made every muscle in his body freeze.
And then came the gasp.
He watched as Imelda’s eyes widened, the both of them turning to face the sound with a suddenness.
The door that he knew he had closed was open, just a crack, a flurry of fabric the only sight of who had walked in on their moment.
Without a thought, Corin reached out, slamming the door back to a close as he heard Imelda stifle a sob.
“Oh, mercy. Who could have seen us?” Imelda cried, fiddling with her dress jerkily as she tried to shove her skirts down and pull her shoulders back all at once. Her breasts caught in the fabric, and Corin almost groaned at the sight.
He was still hot and hard within his pants, the very sight of her making him more so.
But it wasn’t about him.
He tamped down the need that raged within him and rose steadily to his feet. His hands were careful, gentle as he helped her set her dress to rights, instead of pulling it completely from her as he most wanted to.
“It doesn’t matter.”
He surprised himself with his own words.
Clearly, Imelda, as well. Her already panicked eyes widened, her lips parting in a soft dip as she stared at him as if he had suddenly grown another head.
“We will be ruined, Corin,” she reminded him breathily. “Or I will. I know it is different for men. But I will be ruined.”
Corin could see her panic rising, her shaking hands speaking nothing of the pleasure he had just brought her anymore.
“You will not be ruined, Imelda.” Corin couldn’t bear to think that she thought such a thing. That she thought he would allow such a thing to happen.
“You can’t guarantee such a thing! Gossip spreads like fire here in London, I’ve learned. Before the party is over—”
“Do you trust me?” Corin raised his voice to interrupt her. He lifted his hand, cupping the underside of her chin so that he could run his thumb along the still-flushed expanse of her skin as she cut off in a quick gasp.
He was cheating, he knew, using that phrase that had so recently been her undoing.
“Corin…”
“No, Imelda. I will not leave you to ruin. I will not abandon you again. I know that it might be difficult for you to believe me after that last time.” He could still see her shutting that door in his face, the dejection that it had inspired. “But I promise you, I am not leaving now.”
Tears welled in Imelda’s eyes, her nod shaky as she leaned into his hand at last.
“I wanted to talk to you.” Corin laughed, half-aggravated with himself and half with whoever had decided to walk in on them.
Damn him for not remembering to lock the door.
“I wanted to discuss things like I promised last, but now, with whoever just came in…” He groaned, leaning his forehead against hers.
Imelda’s laugh was hesitant, her fingers light as they ran from the side of his forehead down the line of his cheek.
“But now we had better get back to the party before anyone starts wondering where we are,” she reminded him, sounding as put out by the thought as he felt.
“At least until things are resolved,” Corin agreed, bitterly hating that there was any need for them to wait at all.
He paused. He couldn’t help himself. He knew that they needed to leave but as much as ithadbeen about Imelda—it was about him, too.
