LITMIR.BIZ

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with his hand. She sighed and moaned into his mouth. Her teeth grazed his tongue and she sucked his bottom lip. Ah, no. He was too close to the edge. He drew back.

      ‘What are you doing?’ she asked.

      He shook his head. He no longer knew what he was doing. ‘Pleasuring you.’

      ‘Take your clothes off,’ she whispered. Her breaths came short and fast. She undid his shirt buttons and tugged the fabric free of his breeches. He whipped the shirt off over his head. Her fingertips traced the contours of his chest, then circled his nipples. ‘Now your breeches and boots.’

      He inhaled a deep breath, saw the heat in her gaze, the anticipation in her tongue licking her lips and sighed.

      Why fight it? It would be the last time. He swore it. In seconds he’d stripped out of his clothes. When he turned back, she had her shirt off and was wriggling out of her breeches. In the light from the fire, the triangle of light brown hair at the apex of her thighs glistened with her moisture. For him.

      His wood nymph, his exotic, wild woodland creature, glowing in firelight, begging for his touch. An unexpected blessing. A pure light in his blighted life.

      Lost. He was lost. And he never wanted to be found.

      He tugged her breeches over her feet and flung them aside. Ripped off her stockings in feverish haste. He covered her with his body, thrust inside her. Her heat, the tightness of her flesh, squeezed around the pulsing of his blood inside her body.

      A sigh of fulfilment whispered hot breath in his ear.

      Pleasure ripped through him, unbearable, the tension too hard and too fast. He surged against her, holding his weight with trembling arms, aware of her joy in the far-off reaches of his mind, but stretched to breaking point with his need for completion.

      He came into her, hard and fast and rough, and she met each stroke with a thrust of her own that sent him spiralling to the stars. Together they rode all the way to heaven and the abyss beyond.

      He collapsed beside her, face down, and finished against the rough blanket, blissfully satiated, yet wanting more. Disgust welled up inside him. He was what he had always been. A seducer. A rake.

      She snuggled into the crook of his shoulder.

      ‘Happy now?’ he murmured for something to say, to divert his thoughts from his own sense of disappointment that he was not a better man.

      ‘Very happy,’ she said softly.

      Moisture leaked from his closed eyes and he brushed it away. Because she was happy? Or because he might never again experience such joy?

      While Frederica slept, her even breath a symphony to his ears, Robert watched shadows and licks of flame dance on the ceiling. How to extricate himself without doing her damage? More damage, he thought bitterly. In the old days, he would have sent round a string of pearls with a footman. Jewels were his speciality. This child of nature had no need for baubles and trinkets to enhance her beauty; she needed protection from a cruel harsh world.

      And he wanted to be the one to fight her dragons. Even if he was not her first, he wanted to be her last.

      Marriage.

      Shocked, he inhaled a deep breath. Surely not. He’d never wanted to wed. Never wanted to be tied down to one woman. Was this simply a case of him not being ready to let this one go?

      He didn’t recall ever feeling this need for possession. Or the urge to protect.

      Frederica stirred.

      Robert glanced down and found her looking up at him. ‘Time to go?’ he asked.

      She sighed. ‘Soon. Robert?’

      ‘Yes, love?’ He liked the way the word tasted on his tongue, but it was as far as he dare go for the moment.

      ‘What if I can only dance the waltz with you, here in this room? What if I trip over my feet?’

      He pulled her close, felt her fear in the faintest tremor beneath her skin. He kissed her forehead and the tip of her nose, inhaled the musky scent of their loving and the essence of her, outdoors and fresh air with a trace of vanilla. ‘You will be fine.’

      He’d find a way to make sure of it. ‘Come, let us get you dressed.’

      The next morning, still feeling blissful, Frederica strolled into the breakfast room and found Snively hovering over the sideboard.

      She lifted the lid of a silver platter and helped herself to a couple of gammon rashers. Goodness, she was hungry this morning. Today she would see the results of the dressmaker’s efforts at Lady Radthorn’s. The riding habit and the gowns would be a boon for her travels. Poor Uncle Mortimer. All that expense for nothing. One day, she would find a way to pay him back. In the meantime she’d do her best to make sure the ball went off without a hitch and keep her own plans a secret.

      ‘Is everything ready for our guests, Snively?’ she asked. ‘Do you have all the extra help from the village you need to decorate the ballroom?’

      ‘Yes, miss. All is arranged, as we discussed.’

      Frederica smiled. There was no one as well organised as Snively. Or so willing to aid her over the years. She would be sorry to leave him behind. ‘Thank you so much for your help. You will let me know if you have questions, will you not? Lord Wynchwood will have an apoplexy if we run into problems.’

      He afforded her a quick smile. ‘All will be well. Oh, I should let you know that his lordship asked that we move your things to the second floor in the morning.’

      She stared at him. ‘My things?’

      ‘Yes. Next to the other lady who will be staying here. He thought it made more sense with company in the house. I’ll set someone on it in the morning.’

      So they felt a little guilty at hiding her away. ‘I do not want my desk moved. Or my easel.’

      A twinkle lit his eyes. ‘Don’t worry, miss, I’ll see to that part myself.’

      She grinned back. ‘You are a dear. By the way, is there any mail for me this morning?’

      ‘Michael is not yet returned from the village. If there is anything for you, I will see it reaches you directly as always.’

      ‘Thank you.’ She selected a slice of toast and went to her usual place at the table facing the window. Beneath a clear blue sky, a hoar frost sparkled like crystals on the lawn. Impossible to catch that glitter with a paint brush. She sighed.

      Snively brought her a cup of tea. He glanced at the door and back to her. ‘Miss Bracewell, are you thinking of leaving Wynchwood?’

      Her heart jumped, heat flashed under her skin, followed by cold. She stifled her gasp and tried to look unconcerned. ‘Whatever d-do you m-mean?’

      ‘I’ve known you a long time, miss. I’ve watched you grow up. I know what goes on in this family and I’ve never seen you so happy, or so excited. Not since your uncle let you ride the gelding. You are up to something. And it’s my opinion that you are planning to take the money from your drawings and run.’

      Heart pounding, she folded her shaking fingers in her lap. Snively had always been her ally in this house, but as her uncle’s employee, would he see it as his duty to betray her? His eyes remained kindly but concerned. Dare she give him her trust?

      ‘L-leave? Why would you think so? For the first time, I am to attend a ball and I am to have a whole new fashionable wardrobe in honour of our guests. What can you mean?’

      He frowned and stepped back, shaking his head. ‘If I spoke out of turn, miss, I beg your pardon. I just wanted to be sure you will be here for your birthday. I have a gift for you, you see.’

      She narrowed her eyes. ‘For me?’ No one ever gave her gifts on her birthday. Unless you counted her annual new gown as a gift.

      He shrugged. ‘I understood it

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