The Illicit Love of a Courtesan. Jane Lark

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СКАЧАТЬ kiss into her palm. He curled her fingers about it. “To save for later, Ellen, when you are alone.”

      “I am never alone now I have you,” she declared, affection shining in her eyes, saying more than she knew probably, admitting she’d been lonely before he’d filled the void.

      Another smile from his heart touched his lips. She was special this woman, he would dare any man in his position to deny it. But then he thought of Gainsborough, again. God, I wish I could keep that man out of my head.

      “But I did think we’d agreed to be cautious, this inn is a little—obvious—Edward, what if someone knew one of us?” If she challenged his choice of inn clearly that damn man was in her head too, like a bloody canker which wouldn’t go away.

      “It’s only for a day, Ellen. I wanted to give you more than a dirty room in some seedy inn, just for once I did not wish to have to be circumspect. I’ve booked the room under Mr and Mrs Brownlow and for a whole night. No one will ask questions. No one will think it odd.”

      Her fingers uncurling, they slid across his cheek, and he rested his head against her delicate embrace.

      Her touch felt cool despite the fire already burning in the hearth.

      Was it madness to love her so much? To place her happiness above his no matter what?

      She fed him her last mouthful of cake, her pale eyes dancing with frivolity and something else as she turned his head up to hers. “I love you, Edward,” she whispered.

      Edward felt his heart soar and burst like a fire cracker, while Ellen continued her declaration ignorant of the jubilation she’d engendered.

      “I think I am insane to say so. I hardly know you. We have known each other barely a month, and here I am, head over heels in love with you.” Her last words were uttered on a nervous laugh as she bent to cover his lips with hers.

      Words forgotten, cupping her nape Edward tumbled back to the bed, pulling her with him, his heart singing with joy.

      ~

      “Ellen.” Edward whispered to her over an hour later, as they reclined naked beneath the covers on the comfortable feather bed.

      “Yes,” she sighed contentedly, snuggling against the warmth and comfort of his body, one leg draped across his, one hand splayed on his chest. Glancing up she saw his eyes fix on the white plaster ceiling.

      “I don’t know how to explain what I feel for you, but I think I should try. I feel…” He paused, apparently searching for words.

      She rose a little, rolled to lay her palm on his chest and rest her chin on top of her hand, while he pulled a second pillow beneath him, and then set his hands behind his head. His gaze met hers. “It is akin to insanity, isn’t it?” He laughed. “That first night,” One hand slid from beneath his head and fell atop her hair, then played with a single lock, twisting it through his fingers. It was a wonderfully tender caress, “ever since it, you’ve been like a drug in my veins. I can’t bear thinking of you with him, Ellen. I don’t want to let you go.” He took a breath. She felt it pull into his lungs, beneath her palm. “I know you are afraid to leave him…”

      “Edward,” Instantly she pulled back, shifting to kneel beside him and pressed her fingers over his lips, “stop. I did not tell you I loved you because I wished you to make false promises to me.” Leaning back on her heels, her fingers slipping to rest gently at his hip she added. “Nor do I want Lord Gainsborough discussed in our bed. Forget him.” She held his gaze. “Besides I have known you barely a month, it is probably just an obsession. I was being silly.”

      “Whatever it is, it’s a feeling we share, I…” Leaning forward she covered his mouth again.

      “Edward.” It was time for blunt words. “I know you can offer me nothing other than this. I don’t expect it. Honestly. I cannot leave Gainsborough anyway.” It was not a lie. She was trapped, but it hurt to say it aloud. She had hoped for more, but that was a dream, she didn’t expect him to make it reality. He couldn’t.

      She turned away, getting up before he could see the tears she felt in her eyes.

      Rolling over he followed her across the bed and then his fingers clasped her wrist, but his grip wasn’t over-tight, it just asked her to stay. “Stop running.”

      She slipped her hand free, slid off the bed and bent to pick up her undergarments then turned to face him, her clothes in her hand and held to her chest. His eyes absorbed her naked body with his usual reverence. That dark awed look of his always sent a coiling spiral of heated desire through her tummy. His gaze lifted and met hers, intent and asking ‘why?’

      “What are you afraid of?” he challenged, his tone accusing.

      She didn’t answer, just watched his nude, nubile body shift into motion as he cast aside the cotton sheet and followed her off the bed to stand before her. Then his forefinger lifted and tipped up her chin and her gaze. “Stop running from me. I am trying to say I love you too, and I can offer you something. I can offer you marriage. I want you to be my wife and not go back to him, Ellen. Marry me.”

      A sharp pain struck her heart and her eyes glanced up to the ceiling, unable to look at him as she caught a breath into her lungs and stepped back. She prayed for strength, fighting tears as her anger flared. She shook her head. Offering the impossible was no help. She could not accept him. It hurt.

      Was the man wearing blinders? Surely he could see it was no answer?

      Her fingers, clutching her underclothes more tightly, she looked at him again. “Is this what you intended celebrating? Shall we break open the champagne, Edward? Or should I remind you what I am? I am not a woman men marry! And I cannot leave him!”

      Furious, she turned and collected her dress from the floor. He moved to touch her, but she knocked his hand away. “Don’t, Edward!”

      She couldn’t marry him. In the fiction of dreams—yes. In reality—no!

      Perplexed Edward dropped back to sit on the bed, his fingers running through his hair. She slid on her drawers and tied them, then pulled on her chemise, ignoring him, her lips fixed in a stiff line, anger oozing from her.

      For some inexplicable reason his offer of marriage had made her seethe. He could only assume she thought he wasn’t serious. He was. He’d thought long and hard enough about it to be sure. He’d considered just offering her protection, but his ingrained honour-bound sensibilities had baulked at the idea.

      He refused to keep a woman for the sole purpose of sexual pleasure. He loved her. He couldn’t place her worth beneath his. Guilt had struck him even at the thought. His new-found happiness was based upon re-building her self-esteem not shattering it. He refused to insult her.

      No, he’d decided he wanted to keep her, and if he wanted to keep her he could only offer her an honourable route—marriage. After all he was a second son with no fear of insulting the ton’s bloodlines. Heirs were his brother’s worry. The blessing of being a second son was that you could walk away from status if you chose. He’d chosen.

      His only problem was an independent income; he’d been living off Robert’s estate all his life. He’d need to find some other way to support her. But having managed Robert’s land for years he presumed he could easily find a position as СКАЧАТЬ