Forbidden in February (8 page)

If
he agreed.

She refused to entertain such doubts… Robert had to agree. He was her only hope. There was no one else she could approach with a similar request

And so she sank onto the settee once again and waited. It seemed an eternity but was probably only a few minutes when she heard his steps on the stairs, and then he was pausing in the doorway of the library. Tall, immaculately dressed, his presence seeming to fill the small room, he stole her breath.

Their eyes met and held for several long moments.

“I wasn’t sure I’d see you today,” he said, finally breaking the silence. “I thought perhaps you’d changed your mind and would hide yourself away.”

Her mouth was dry, and she had to lick her lips before she could reply. She didn’t miss the way his eyes followed the movement. “I haven’t changed my mind.”

He continued to stare at her for several seconds before nodding and coming all the way into the room. He sat next to her but made sure to leave a respectable amount of space between them. She couldn’t help but liken his cautious approach to that of a groom approaching a skittish horse and would have smiled if butterflies weren’t rioting in her belly.

“I gave the maid the day off so we shouldn’t be disturbed. But I should warn you that Mrs. Harris is likely disappointed you didn’t arrive earlier. I’m sure she’s started cooking up a feast for tea now that you’re here.

Amusement lit his eyes. “I told Walters to inform her that I don’t want tea.”

“She won’t give up that easily,” Isabel said. “I’m sure she’s putting together something for you right now.”

Her words seemed to increase his amusement. “I told Walters that we weren’t to be disturbed unless we ring for him.”

Her stomach fell and heat rose into her cheeks as she imagined their conversation. “Oh, no. Tell me you didn’t.”

He raised a brow. “I didn’t think you’d want to chance having him walk in on us.”

She gasped and raised her hands to her cheeks, feeling the heat there that confirmed she was probably redder than she’d ever been. She lowered her hands again before saying, “They’ll wonder why we need privacy. They might even guess the reason behind it.”

Robert’s lips twisted in what she assumed was an effort to keep from laughing at her. “The staff have seen much in their years of service to my mother, although I admit it’s been a few years since their discretion was called into use. Trust me when I say that they won’t be shocked by what happens here today.”

Perhaps not, but Isabel was beginning to feel some of that shock herself. Her mind spun as she imagined things that could not possibly be real. “What do you mean?”

He let out a long breath and his merriment fled. “I’m illegitimate, Miss Durham. My mother was mistress to a man who set her up in this house and who visited her for many years until he grew bored and moved on to someone else.” He paused and looked away. “I suppose he would have tired of her sooner if she hadn’t borne him a son, but in the end even I wasn’t enough to keep him attached to my mother.”

Isabel didn’t know what to say. She should be shocked, but given what they were about to do, she could hardly condemn another woman for acting in what was essentially a similar fashion. The information Robert had just shared also went a long way to explaining why Mrs. Milton hadn’t dismissed her after receiving her cousin’s letter.

“I didn’t know,” she said finally, knowing the words were hardly sufficient.

“No, I don’t see why you would,” Robert said when he met her gaze again. “My mother made the mistake of falling in love with her benefactor and never took another lover.”

Isabel’s heart went out to her former charge. Mrs. Milton had lost everyone—the man she’d loved and her son. “That’s so tragic.”

Robert snorted at her statement, startling her. “It was the height of foolishness. She spent her last years pining after a man who wanted nothing to do with her.”

She hesitated, wondering if it would be too intrusive to ask him about his estrangement from his mother. But in the end curiosity won out. That and the knowledge that the man sitting next to her wouldn’t be sharing such things with her if he didn’t want her to know about them.

“What happened between you and your mother? I know she wrote to you… and you didn’t visit when she told you she was ill.”

Robert looked away from her, bending forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He was silent for so long, she didn’t think he was going to answer.

“I apologize for asking. What happened between you and your mother is none of my business—”

“My mother made it her life’s mission to regain my father’s attention. Somehow, she never realized that a man who would use her to break his marriage vows would have no difficulty moving on to another woman.”

When he paused, she waited to see if he would continue or change the subject. Her patience was rewarded.

“When he failed to acknowledge any of the letters she sent him, she decided that I would have better luck. She assumed, of course, that my father would care even a small amount about his bastard child.”

Isabel winced at the bitterness in his tone. “He didn’t?”

Robert twisted to look at her. “I never tried. I wanted nothing to do with the man—I still don’t. My mother never accepted that, though. She thought we could be one big happy family and hounded me on a daily basis to visit him and attempt to form a father-son relationship.”

“Is that why you left and went into service?”

He nodded. “If there was one thing I learned growing up, it was how to dress both men and women. I used what I’d learned at my mother’s knee to gain a position as a valet.”

It couldn’t have been as simple as that. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It wouldn’t have been had my father not been someone of consequence. I forged a letter of recommendation and signed my father’s name to it, then I sent him a letter informing him that I wanted nothing from him save one thing—his corroboration if anyone should ask him about that letter.”

Given how he’d spoken about his father, she could imagine how much it had cost him to ask even that much from the man.

“I understand. A lesser man would have sought to make greater use of the connection.”

He weighed her words before replying. “My mother never understood.” He looked away again, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. “I thought she was lying when she told me she was ill, that she was trying to get me to visit so she could pressure me yet again to go see him.”

Isabel didn’t have any words to soothe his conscience. Instead, she reached out and placed a hand on his arm. When he turned his head to look at her, their eyes met and held. Tension spiraled as the moment stretched, and expectation hung heavy in the air. Isabel was very aware of everything about the man sitting next to her—the height and breadth of him making her feel small, the way the blue of his eyes darkened, the texture of his coat under her fingers, and the way his muscles flexed under her touch.

Sensations, nerves, everything seemed too much. She started to draw her hand back, but he placed his other hand over where it rested on his arm, holding her in place.

“Isabel.” He said just the one word, her name, in a voice so low she almost didn’t hear it.

He closed the space between them, shifting on the settee, and brought his mouth to hers. The breath she’d been holding escaped when his lips touched hers in a kiss so soft it was almost a whisper, and then his mouth was gone and he released her hand.

“I want this, but you must know that my reasons aren’t noble. I’m not looking to save you from your cousin…”

She placed a hand over his mouth to stop his next words, afraid that whatever he would say next would put an end to what was happening between them. And at that moment, the very last thing she wanted to do was stop.

“I want this, too,” she said.

His eyes continued to hold hers captive as he searched her face for any signs of hesitation. But he would find none because she wanted this man more than she wanted her next breath.

He stood then and held his hand out to her. Words were no longer needed as she placed her hand in his and rose as well. His fingers squeezed hers before he turned and led her from the room towards the bedrooms at the back of the house. He moved past the guest room and his mother’s bedroom to his bedchamber at the end of the hallway.

With each step her heart threatened to burst out of her chest, but the riot of butterflies in her belly had finally fled. They left behind an aching need that left her almost breathless.

His room was almost exactly the same as when he’d left it six years before, but Robert didn’t spend any time reminiscing about his years growing up, when this room had been his only sanctuary from his mother’s increasing demands. No, as he closed the door behind them and turned to face Isabel, he only had eyes for her. He didn’t release her hand, but he knew she wouldn’t change her mind, wouldn’t run away from him as he’d half expected when he’d arrived at the house.

She stared at him, her gaze unwavering, waiting for him to act first. He assumed she was an innocent, otherwise she wouldn’t have needed to ask him to ruin her. And in that moment that was exactly what he wanted to do… ruin her for every other man. He didn’t examine why that was, he only acted.

He pulled her into the circle of his arms, his heart thudding with anticipation when she raised her hands and placed them on his shoulders. He kissed her then, holding himself back at first so as not to scare her with the force of his desire. But when she sighed and leaned against him fully, her soft breasts pressing into his chest, he lost himself a little and deepened the kiss, pushing his tongue into her mouth.

She made a soft sound of surprise, but her surprise didn’t last long because she took her cues from him and started using her own tongue, stroking it against his, her enthusiasm causing him to harden almost to the point of pain. Forcing himself to slow down, he lifted his head and gazed down at her. Isabel’s eyes were closed, a look of complete rapture on her face, and he had to hold back a groan. When she opened her eyes, blinking slowly as though she found that simple task difficult, he took a step back. It was either that or throw her onto the bed.

“That was…” She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts.

“That was just the beginning,” he finished for her. “But we’re both wearing far too much clothing for what comes next.”

Color rose to her cheeks and he found himself charmed.

“Of course,” she said, covering her cheeks with her hands. It wasn’t the first time she’d done that in his presence, as though she was trying to hide her blush, and he vowed silently that it wouldn’t be the last.

He could tell she was unsure how to proceed, so he turned her away from him and began unfastening the tapes at the back of her dress. She wore a simple black-and-white day dress that he supposed was out of deference to his mother’s death, and her skin glowed against the ivory bodice. Three simple tapes and then the dress was falling open. She didn’t raise her arms, as he’d expected, but allowed the material to drop to the floor.

Her corset laced in the front—of course, she didn’t have a maid to dress her—and when he moved to stand before her she was already beginning to unlace it, her eyes downcast. He removed his coat and began to unbutton his waistcoat, but his eyes never left her nimble fingers and the soft flesh that threatened to spill over the top of the undergarment.

He was known for his tidiness and his attention to detail, but today that care was cast aside as he all but tugged the garments from his body. He hesitated after throwing his waistcoat to the floor, however, because Isabel had removed her corset, taking more care than he by placing it and the dress she’d gathered from the floor onto the chair by his small desk. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as he watched her move, wearing only a chemise so thin it was almost transparent. She hesitated a moment before turning to face him.

This time it was she who closed the distance between them. She who reached for his face, dragging his head down even as she pressed her nearly naked form against him. There was no slow buildup, their kiss almost violent as their lips met and did battle. He brought his hand up to her shoulders and tugged her chemise down, and she dropped her arms so that garment fell to the floor. When she raised them again, it was to tug his shirt from his trousers and trail her hands beneath the fabric.

He managed to keep from swearing as he drew his shirt over his head and cast it too to the floor. Isabel pressed her body, now bare save for the stockings she wore, against him. He groaned and resumed kissing her, battling against the urge to take her too quickly. He lost that battle, and he broke away so he could swing her into his arms. She gave a small yelp of surprise and threw her arms around his neck.

It took him only three steps to reach his bed, and he bent to place her carefully in the center before standing and looking down at her, the desire to look at her as he’d drawn her impossible to resist. He frowned when he realized her hair was still up. Needing to see it down, to see those golden strands at the ends that she hid away, he kneeled next to her on the bed and held his hand out to her. Confused, she placed her hand in his and allowed him to pull her up into a sitting position. He began to remove the pins from her hair then as she remained still. Finally, when he’d removed the last pin, he twisted to deposit them on the side table. When he turned back, Isabel’s hair had tumbled down around her shoulders and several tresses clung to her surprisingly full breasts. He reached out and traced a finger along the length of one of those tresses, around the top of the breast to which it clung, continuing to follow it down to her nipple, where he stopped and stroked his finger along the rosy peak. Isabel gasped and he tore his gaze away to look into her eyes. What he saw there wasn’t fear but desire.

“You are so beautiful,” he said softly.

She blushed again and opened her mouth to say something, but stopped.

“What is it?”

“Can I… would it be too forward if I touched you?”