Page 30 of Sleepless in Saunton
Her mind had connected with the wrong gentleman, and she was afraid she would never meet another like Barclay Thompson.
As she stared at the hands of the clock, she realized he was not coming. Disappointed, she put the quill down and gazed at the empty page in front of her. She had no muse tonight. No lines to write.
Pushing her chair back, she gathered her things. A book waited for her in her room, and it would have to be what kept her company in her sleeplessness. Turning toward the library door, she jumped in fright.
Barclay!And he was staring at her with the strangest expression as he leaned with his hand on the doorframe. “I knew you would be here.”
“I hoped you might join me.”
Silence followed her statement.
“I tried to stay away,” he eventually admitted, his husky voice gruffer than she recalled. He had no tailcoat, just his white linen shirt which was agape at the neck to reveal the long column of his sun-bronzed throat.
“Why?”
“Because this does not make sense.” Barclay waved a hand between them.
“What does not make sense?”
“This attraction.”
Jane’s breath caught. He was admitting he felt it, too? Her breath quickened and a tingle raced across the surface of her skin as if she had caught a sudden chill. She turned back to the desk, placing her things down while she tried to gather her thoughts. She must have taken too long because the next thing she knew, Barclay had come up behind her, the heat of his body warming her from behind.
“Since I met you, it is as if I awoke from a deep slumber. The slumber of mourning. And you were the first face I saw when I finally opened my eyes.” The pace of her breathing quickened further until she was panting, barely daring to move in case she broke the magic of this moment. Or awoke to find herself in her bed while this delicious dream evaporated to leave her in solitude with only her yearning for company.
Barclay waited in silence, as if to observe her response. She did not move, frozen in fascination, while her stomach sparked with anticipation. He stepped closer, and she felt the warmth of his breath on her nape, teasing the tendrils of her hair. She heard him inhale deeply near her ear. “You smell of strawberries and almonds again. I have a craving to …”
She felt his lips touch fleetingly where her neck met her shoulder. Melting with delight, she moaned when she felt the velvet tip of his tongue brush over the same spot. Hot sensation cascaded down into her breasts, where her nipples puckered in startling response, before continuing its path down through her belly to heat the juncture of her thighs.
Jane tilted her head back, raising her lips toward him, and he accepted the invitation to fleetingly brush his mouth against hers. For the first time in her young life, passion burst into flames, threatening to consume her as his long, muscular arms came up, and he slowly turned her to face him.
She looked up at him and nearly swooned at the ardent desire shining in his brown eyes. Raising her hand, she brushed the long hair back from his face and gazed up at him with longing.
“Jane—” Once more, he lowered his head to capture her mouth with his. For long moments, he slowly explored her lips with his, and all she could feel was him. His mouth, the rasp of his beard brushing her delicate skin, until she moaned from the back of her throat. She started in surprise when she felt the tip of his tongue flick between her parted lips, then sighed in light-headed pleasure as he stole into her mouth to taste her.
Their tongues tangled together, her heart racing in her chest as she learned he tasted of tea and spice. Clenching her legs together to quiet the throbbing pulse that beat at her center, she curved her arms around his neck and leaned into his tall, hard body. His hands trailed blazing heat up and down her back, and she relinquished all thought in the pursuit of feeling. Feeling his powerful body against hers. Feeling her own delicate femininity. Accepting that this gentleman—this riveting man—intrigued her more than any she had ever met and sparked a fire in her.
After a moment, she found her courage and brought her fingers down over his broad chest to explore the indents before she lowered her hands to his flat torso which was fired with his body heat, with only a thin, single layer of fabric to separate his skin from her touch.
Barclay growled as her fingers slid over his body, releasing her lips to blaze a trail of torrid kisses along her jaw and down the slope of her neck while more sensation shot to her breasts … and lower. She moaned in heady passion, desperate to feel more. Pressing forward, she delighted in the feel of his hard chest against her unbound breasts, with only her night rail and wrap and his shirt between them.
With a groan, his hands came up to her shoulders, and he gently set her back. As their mouths parted, Jane felt keen disappointment. Her eyes fluttered open in question.
“You are temptation itself. I must step back before I forget myself,” he explained, as if she had voiced her thought out loud.
He backed up a couple of feet as their eyes made contact. “Jane, it is not my place to pursue this. Us. You are young, with a promising future. And I … I am a bastard who is too old for you.”
Jane was sure confusion marred her features as she tried to make sense of what he was saying over the pounding of her heart. “Are you saying you are a bastard because you are too old for me?”
“No. I am a bastard. And I am too old for you.”
“Oh. I do not care that you are a by-blow.” The comment about his age did not bear acknowledgment. He was still a young man.
Barclay huffed with a half chuckle. “You do not know the repercussions. You are too young to know.”
Jane lifted her chin. “I am willing to find out.”
He contemplated her. “What if I am not willing to put you through that?”
