A Secret Surrender, page 18
She opened her eyes, and he sat back. Her brows pitched over her eyes. “Why did you stop?”
“We’re nearly there.”
She sat up, straightening and smoothing her gown over her legs. He noticed then that her hand was shaking. Alarmed, he reached for her, clasping her hand. “What’s wrong?”
Her head snapped around just as the coach came to a stop. Silently cursing the interruption, Harry opened the door and jumped from the vehicle. He paid the driver, then helped Selina out.
They stood at the entry to the alley behind the row of terraced houses where his was located. He meant to take her in the back for privacy’s sake.
Taking her hand once more, he moved close as the hack rumbled away over the cobblestones. “Have you changed your mind?”
“No. It’s just… I haven’t done this in a very long time. My husband… We didn’t…”
“Oh. Well, that’s all right. We’ll go very slowly. Or we can wait until you’re comfortable.”
She looked up at him and gently touched his jaw, her gloved fingertips grazing his skin. “Take me inside. Please.”
Harry tucked her hand around his arm and led her to the back of his terrace at number seventeen. He reached for the door, but she stopped him, putting her hand on his. “Wait.”
He turned to face her. “I meant what I said. If you’ve changed your mind—”
“When I left school, it was to take a position as a governess.”
She’d gone from governess to wife of a baronet? “Was that your husband?”
She shook her head. “Someone else. I was not anyone of import, certainly not someone who would meet or marry a baronet.” She spoke coldly, distastefully, as if she were talking about someone other than herself. Then she began to tremble. “My employer was not a good man. He took advantage of his position and my vulnerability. He…violated me. Physically.”
Rage spun through Harry. “Who is he?” Harry didn’t care if he was a bloody duke.
“I’m not telling you this to gain your sympathy or your outrage. I’m quite capable of taking care of myself. At least, I am now.”
Harry thought of the pistol she said she always carried. Now it made more sense than he could have imagined. His heart ached for her, just as the fury she told him he shouldn’t feel anchored in his chest. “Then why are you telling me? Tell me what you want me to do.”
“Just listen.” The simplicity of her request quieted the anger inside him.
He cupped her face. “Tell me.”
“I was young, just seventeen. After he raped me, I left. I fetched Beatrix from school, and I’ve taken care of her ever since.” The words poured out of her, and emotion clouded her gaze. “My husband, Sir Barnabus, was a kind and understanding man. He was also rather old and had no desire for the marriage bed.”
She’d never known a man’s touch in a caring manner. Harry was incredibly humbled that she trusted him. “You can still change your mind,” he said softly, gently caressing her face with his thumbs.
Her eyes cleared. “I’m not going to. I’ve waited a very long time for the right moment. The right man. It’s now. You’re him. Will you take me upstairs?”
“Selina, my darling, I will take you anywhere you want to go.” He kissed her sweetly, and then he opened the door.
Selina couldn’t seem to stop her mouth from uttering secrets she’d long kept buried. No one knew what had happened to her when she’d been a governess except Beatrix. She was torn between feeling regret for having opened herself up to Harry and an overwhelming sense of liberation. Mostly, she just felt safe.
The sensible part of her brain told her to go home, to play the role she’d performed the past twelve years. But the part of her that was always pushed to the side, ignored and repressed, longed to be free to pursue her most basic desires: comfort, safety, love.
Not that this was love. That was not an emotion she allowed. Not for anyone except Beatrix, because they only had each other.
Harry took her hand and led her up the backstairs to the first floor. His chamber was at the rear of the small house—smaller even than hers. Decorated in dark, rich tones of burgundy and sable, the room provoked a sense of comfort along with passion. Two things that might have been at odds, but seemed perfect when she thought of him.
He made her feel more relaxed than anyone in a very long time, maybe forever. While at the same time, he kept her on edge, both because of who he was and because of the attraction that smoldered between them. How different would things be if she were not a fraud and he were not a Runner?
He let go of her hand as they entered the bedchamber. Selina removed her gloves and then her hat, glancing around at where to put them. Harry took them from her and set them on a chair near the hearth.
Selina surveyed the room, but mostly focused on the bed against the left wall. Hung with burgundy draperies and covered with opulent bedcoverings, it reminded her of who he was. He might be a Bow Street Runner, but he was also the son of an earl.
That made it hard to forget who she was: a child of the streets with no knowledge of who her parents even were. She was worse than an orphan. If he knew the truth, he would never want her. How could he?
Taking off his hat and gloves, Harry set them on a dresser. Then he removed his coat and laid it over the back of the chair. Seeing him in just his shirtsleeves made him seem even larger—his shoulders more broad, his presence more imposing. Not in an intimidating way, but an alluring one.
Selina stood near the end of the bed where there was a cushioned bench. Harry came and sat. “This is where I put my boots on every morning. And take them off every night.” He removed one, then the other, revealing his stocking-clad feet. “I don’t know that I’ve ever removed them in the middle of the afternoon.” He pulled off the stockings next and looked up at her with a twinkle in his eye.
She sat beside him and leaned over to unlace her boots. He quickly knelt before her. “Allow me.”
Selina sat up and let him take over removing her boots. He did so adroitly, his fingers moving while he kept his eyes locked with hers. The simple task was anything but. She’d rarely had anyone help her dress, even now that she had a maid. This was different, however. Because he was a man. Because he was looking at her with naked desire. Because her entire body thrummed with an answering need.
“How old are you?” he asked softly.
“Nine and twenty.”
“I’m just two years older,” he said, removing the first boot and moving on to the next.
“But far more experienced, I’d wager.” She suddenly felt nervous.
“I possess no rakish tendencies.” He chuckled. “I leave that to my brother.” He finished with the second boot and set it next to the first. He clasped each of her ankles, his fingers wrapping around her as his thumbs moved across the top of her feet to the front of her shins. “Shall I remove your stockings?”
“Yes.” She slowly raised her skirt to her knees and then just above so that the garters were exposed.
Harry slid his hands up, his fingers gently grazing her calves. Then he removed one garter and stocking, sweeping them from her leg as she pointed her toes. He repeated the action on the other leg—as did she. “Beautiful,” he breathed.
He moved between her legs and lifted a hand to her face, his palm caressing her cheek. Then he kissed her, bringing her head down so he could plunder her mouth. It was at once tender and wild, unleashing the passion that had smoldered between them this past fortnight. Selina thrust her hands into his hair, clutching at him lest he decide he didn’t want this.
Would he? Of course not. Men didn’t change their minds about such things. Yet Selina had schooled herself to always be prepared to be left wanting, alone.
Harry held her firmly, his lips and tongue wreaking a delicious havoc on her senses. Then he plucked at the buttons of her spencer, and they had to work together to get it off, given how tightly it fit around her arms.
“Women’s clothing looks lovely, but is truly a pain in the arse,” Harry quipped with a half smile.
“The fancier and more expensive it is, the worse it gets.” Selina preferred her simpler gowns when she wasn’t pretending to be a baronet’s widow. She unknotted his cravat. “Men’s clothing doesn’t seem to change much, with the exception of fabric.”
“There are various choices of things to wear on our lower halves. But yes, other than that, it’s relatively boring. Which is fine by me.”
She stripped his cravat away and dropped it to the floor. Her gaze fixed on the flesh now exposed by the open neck of his shirt. Captivated, she bent her head and pressed her lips to the hollow at the base of his throat. He groaned softly, emboldening her. She flicked her tongue over him, tasting him.
He whispered, “Selina,” before capturing her head and kissing her once more.
Everything happened in a haze after that. He lifted her to stand and worked at her clothing, methodically stripping each piece away with a deft ability. Meanwhile, she only managed to unbutton his waistcoat.
When she stood before him in nothing but her chemise, he paused to look at her. Selina couldn’t have imagined the expression in his eyes—a mix of admiration and awe. No man had ever gazed at her like that.
The last vestiges of her fear and anxiety melted away. She swept the chemise down over her body and let it pool at her feet.
Harry swallowed. “You take my breath away.”
She stepped forward, intent on making him as naked as her. That simple act—both of them being bare—already changed everything she thought she knew about sex. In her experience, and she’d seen plenty before she’d left London, it was a hurried, animalistic, and sometimes brutal deed in which no one removed their clothing.
Tugging his shirt from the waistband of his breeches, Selina maintained eye contact, losing herself in the seductive depths of his tawny gaze. He pulled the garment over his head, revealing the muscular expanse of his chest. Selina sucked in a breath at his stark male beauty. Unable to resist touching him, she ran her fingertips over his collarbone, then dragged them down to his nipple.
His breath hissed from his mouth, and he suddenly swept her up and carried her to the side of the bed. Setting her down on the edge, he moved between her legs. She unbuttoned his fall, but stopped short of pushing his breeches down, probably because he started kissing her again. And touching her, feather-soft caresses along her nape, her back, and then along her side and up her sternum. Finally, his hand closed around her breast as he’d done in the hack, but this was so much better.
Selina gasped into his mouth and clutched at his shoulders. He dragged his thumb over her nipple, and the ensuing sensation was akin to the tension she felt when she took an especially great risk—a coiling of emotion and physical desperation that could explode at any moment.
He kissed along her jaw and down her neck. She cast her head back and closed her eyes, focusing entirely on what he was doing to her and the reaction he coaxed from her body. She quivered with a need she’d never known. How was it possible she’d come this far in her life without feeling this bone-deep desire for another person?
Because it made her vulnerable. And vulnerability was unsafe. Until now. Harry made her feel exposed, but in a way that made her feel honored, as if he would take care of her always.
His fingers squeezed around her nipple, sending a shock of need straight to her sex. She’d seen and heard people enjoying this act, and now perhaps she understood.
Harry’s mouth descended, his tongue and lips teasing her flesh as he made his way to her breast. He held her in his hand as his mouth closed over her nipple. Heat flooded her sex, and she whimpered, desperate for him to touch her, to relieve the pressure.
He was, however, quite content to focus on her breasts, his hands and mouth arousing every part of her. She held him, pulling at him to move closer, to end her torment.
One of his hands trailed down over her abdomen, then along her thigh. She tensed even more, anticipation spiraling through her as his fingertip grazed her sex. She dug her fingers into his shoulder and back as she whispered his name. It was an urgent plea to set her free.
“Lie back.” He gently pushed her backward. She went, helpless to resist whatever he wished to do. She wanted everything he would give her.
He stroked between her legs, stoking the fire inside her. She gripped the coverlet as her muscles clenched.
“Relax just a bit, love,” he coaxed as he focused his touch on the top of her sex, a particular spot that felt absolutely divine.
She tried to do as he bade, forcing her limbs to uncoil. But it didn’t last long. Something was building inside her, a tension, a pressure that simply must be released. And she couldn’t do it herself. She needed him.
“I can’t—” She didn’t know what she couldn’t do. “I need—” She knew what she needed—or whom. “I need you.”
His finger moved inside her, stretching her, filling her, giving her precisely what she longed for. Selina arched up, seeking more of him. Then he did the most astonishing, terrifying thing. He put his mouth on her.
She only knew that was what he was doing because she felt the flick of something wet and opened her eyes. Looking down her body, she saw the dark red of his hair, felt the lick of his tongue against her, and let out a pent-up breath.
This was surely wrong and terrible, but she wouldn’t stop him. She couldn’t. He kissed her there, in much the same way he did her mouth, his tongue exploring and then flattening, his lips gently sucking. Then his finger was inside her again, working in concert with his mouth, pulling her inexorably to a great, unimaginable height. His thrusts grew faster and deeper as his mouth closed over that sensitive part of her.
At last it came—the freedom she’d so desperately been searching for. She let go of the coverlet, her hands splaying against the fabric as her body splintered. Tumbling into a feverish darkness, she arched and moaned, then clasped his head. He filled her and held her, anchoring her through the torrent.
Then he was gone. Still floating, she opened her eyes the barest amount to see him pushing his breeches and small clothes down over his hips. The sight of his cock—thick and rigid—stole her breath.
He rotated her on the bed and climbed on beside her, looking down into her eyes. “Tell me to stop, if that’s what you want.” The words were ragged, his tone breathless. His eyes were dark and wild.
“That is not what I want.” She pulled him over her, spreading her quivering legs. She’d never felt more alive. Bringing her head up, she kissed him, claiming him as hers. At least for now. Now was more than she’d ever had. Now was enough.
“Bring your legs up around me,” he said against her mouth. Then he was there—his cock against her sex. Slowly, he slid inside, and she closed her eyes once more.
Yes, this was what she’d craved. She wrapped her legs around him and lay back against the pillows as he surged forward, filling her completely. Long distant memories rose and faded. She wouldn’t allow them to intrude. This might look the same mechanically, but there was nothing similar to what had been done to her and what she currently invited.
Harry brushed the curls away from her face as he began to thrust, gently at first. He whispered words of longing and beauty. Their bodies twined together, moving rhythmically and gradually picking up speed. He kissed her ear, her jaw, her lips. Then he kissed her breast again, his lips and teeth tugging at her sensitive nipple, making her cry out as the tension that had just been released a short time before built again.
There was nothing to be feared here, just a growing ecstasy. Selina, eager to fly once more, clasped his back, moving one hand to cup his backside. He increased the speed of his thrusts, creating an almost unbearable friction. Selina cried out over and over as she took flight. She dug her fingernails into his flesh, holding on to him lest she fall alone.
She didn’t want to be alone—not now.
He stroked into her hard and fast, pushing her over the edge into helpless oblivion. Casting her head back, her body stiffened as the liberating wave swept over her. There was joy and satisfaction. Selina smiled.
Then he was gone.
Her eyes flew open, and she felt wetness on her abdomen. A sense of dread gripped her. “Why did you stop?” What had she done wrong? The beauty of the moment faded.
Harry rolled to his side and gathered her in his arms. He stroked the curls back from her temple. “Selina, my darling, don’t be upset.” He kissed her forehead. “I had to remove myself before spilling my seed. It’s an unfortunate necessity to prevent a child.”
“Oh.” She wished she didn’t feel so stupid. “You must think I’m incredibly naïve.”
“Not at all. I think you’re sweet and lovely, and I’m humbled you would share yourself with me in this manner.” He kissed her cheek and then her mouth, his lips lingering softly against hers.
He was humbled. She knew good men existed. Men who were kind and generous. Men like Sir Barnabus. She’d just never imagined to find herself having an affair with one. She’d never imagined herself having an affair at all.
Selina cupped his cheek. “You’re a good man.” She wished with everything she had that she was a good woman, that she was worthy of him.
He kissed her again, and she closed her eyes to dream.
Chapter 14
Selina had spent the previous evening in a haze following the afternoon she’d spent in Harry’s bed. She still couldn’t quite believe it had happened. Maybe that was why she hadn’t said anything to Beatrix. Selina had been grateful for the card party they’d attended, as it had provided a wonderful—and necessary—distraction.
Before dropping her off on Queen Anne Street, Harry had said he’d arrange her riding lesson for this morning in the park. They’d start early to avoid being seen by a crowd of people, and they’d go to a less-used area. He fetched her in his gig and drove them to Hyde Park.
She’d felt awkward and shy seeing him after what they’d done. “I’m a bit nervous,” she admitted.
