For several long seconds he remained perfectly still, breathing in the delicate fragrance of roses warmed with the musk of arousal. Then he lifted his head and looked down into her beautiful face. Her skin was flushed with the afterglow of pleasure, her moist lips plush and red from their passionate kissing, her eyes awash with sensual discovery. She slid her hand from his loosened grasp and laid her palm against his cheek.
A tiny smile trembled on her lips, then she whispered, “Nathan.”
A warmth, a tenderness like nothing he’d ever known, ambushed him. His gaze steady on hers, he gently kissed her scraped palm. “Victoria.”
Her smile bloomed fuller, her eyes slid closed, and she stretched beneath him. His gaze followed the graceful line of her cheek and froze on the red mark marring the pale skin beneath her jaw. An image exploded in his mind, of the knife against her throat, nicking her flesh. She could have been killed. He could have lost her. A sense of fury and loss burned through him, leaving in its wake a single awareness that blazed with undeniable clarity.
He loved her.
The realization walloped him like a blow to the temple, and he shook his head as if to clear it of the notion. But there was no budging the thought from his mind now that it had rooted itself there.
Bloody hell. Surely he wouldn’t be that stupid. To fall in love with a woman who was so utterly wrong for him. As he was for her. A woman who planned to soon choose a husband-a man who would never be him. She wanted a Society fop with a title and money and estates and a love of Town life. The sort of man who would escort her to the opera and soirees, and who could afford to shower her with jewels. That man was definitely not him.
Oh, he wasn’t poor by any means, yet neither was he wealthy, nor did he aspire to be. Three years ago he’d thought money important enough to risk everything, and the result had cost him dearly. Had nearly cost Colin and Gordon their lives. Now his riches came in the form of his peaceful, modest life in Little Longstone. Victoria’s world existed in an orbit far above and beyond his-an orbit that did not intersect his at any point. Yet, still the words echoed through his mind and heart: I love her.
Double bloody hell. He loved her. Her wit and charm. Her smile and determination. Her courage, intelligence, and kindness. The way she challenged him. The way she made him feel. She’d captivated him the instant he saw her three years ago, and he’d spent the intervening time convincing himself that she was nothing more than a spoiled hothouse flower. That the chemistry he’d felt between them had merely been a figment of his imagination. Now, with the passage of only two days, she’d knocked aside his perceptions, proving not only that there was much more to her than he’d supposed, but that the chemistry he’d imagined between them had been no mistake. If she could do that to him in a matter of days, what havoc might she wreak upon him in a matter of weeks?
Good God. This was not supposed to happen. He was supposed to fall in love with a demure country chit who enjoyed the same simple things he did, the same modest lifestyle. Not a Society diamond who thrived in the glittering world he eschewed. A woman who would return to her fancy life in London and leave him behind with nothing more than memories and a broken heart.
Surely he’d simply taken temporary leave of his senses. He brightened at the thought. Yes, an aberration, that’s all this madness was. A post coital quirk that would clear up as soon as he put some distance between.
“Nathan… are you all right?”
Her soft voice yanked him from his thoughts. She was looking up at him with a concerned, confused expression.
No. “Yes. I’m fine.” I’m anything but. And it’s entirely your fault. He eased off her, then strode to the hearth to pick up the forgotten towels. At the wash basin he quickly cleansed himself, keeping his back to her. Fifteen feet now separated them. He pulled in a deep breath, relieved when he felt his self-possession seep back into his veins. Excellent. Just as he’d suspected, all he needed was to put a bit of distance between them. How could he possibly be expected to think properly while she lay naked beneath him? He couldn’t. But now he could. A distraction-that’s all she was. A beautiful, rose-scented distraction. Relief suffused him. Thank God everything was once again back in perspective.
After wringing the excess water from the towel, he turned back. His gaze met Victoria’s from across the room, and his relief and perspective vanished like a poof of smoke in a windstorm.
He loved her.
Bloody hell.
With a calm he was far from feeling, he walked back to the bed with the dampened towel. Resting one hip on the mattress, he gently bathed away the evidence of their spent passion. He forced himself to concentrate on the task and not look into her eyes, for fear she’d read his feelings, discover what his heart longed to proclaim but could not: I love you.
A fissure of annoyance at himself edged through him. Damn it, during his years in service to the Crown, he’d perfected the art of lying. Hiding his emotions behind an unreadable mask. It wouldn’t be difficult to call upon those skills again. You‘re not that man anymore, his inner voice whispered. No, he wasn’t. And he never wanted to be that man again. But for however long she remained in Cornwall, he’d have to pretend to be.
Setting aside the used towel, he drew up the sheet around her. Only after her pale naked beauty was covered did he dare look at her. And everything inside him stilled.
Her eyes were wide with distress and glistened with unshed tears. Her lower lip quivered, delivering a blow to his heart. “I’ve displeased you,” she whispered.
He lightly clasped her fingers, stilling them from fidgeting with the counterpane and inwardly cursed himself for giving her the wrong impression. “No. God, no.”
She lifted her chin in that way of hers he found so endearing, but even that show of bravado couldn’t hide the hurt and confusion in her gaze. “I’m not blind, Nathan. If I’ve done something to disappoint you, I want you to tell me what it is.”
“Nothing,” he said, bringing her hands to his lips and pressing a fervent kiss against the backs of her fingers. “I swear it. If anything you pleased me too much.” He forced a crooked smile. “You quite unraveled me, my dear, which I fear surprised me.”
A bit of the worry faded from her eyes with dawning comprehension. “And you don’t like surprises.”
“I confess I find them… unsettling. But in this particular case, I found it enchanting.”
There was no mistaking her relief. “I could say the same, you know.”
“You could-or you are?” he teased.
She laughed, and he felt as if the sun emerged from behind the clouds. “Was that a shameful bid for a compliment?”
He blew out an exaggerated put-upon sigh. “I’d force myself to listen to any accolades you might wish to toss my way.”
“Very well. I believe I now know what it is you do best.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. And I’d very much like for you to show me again.”
He turned over her hand and kissed her palm. “What if I told you that I still hadn’t demonstrated what I do best?”
The way her eyes widened and darkened fired pure lust through him. She sat up and the sheet fell away, exposing her breasts. “Then I most definitely am anxious to discover what it is you do do best.”
Reaching out, he teased his fingers over her rosy nipples, watching them tighten, his body experiencing the same pull of want. “I certainly know what you do best, Victoria.”