by Cheryl Bolen
It was as if his whole life had been in darkness until this minute when the sun seemed blazingly hot and a molten heat surged within him. He looked down at her face. His Felicity’s. Her lids were lowered, her lips sucking the linen that covered his shoulders, her breath unsteady, labored.
Soon his fingers slipped into her. There. She was warm and slick. And welcoming.
He adjusted his breeches, then replaced his hand, planting himself within her. She frantically moved her hips to meet him. He came fast and hard, his breath vibrating within the walls of his chest.
It must be the wine, Felicity told herself as she languidly allowed Thomas to feast on her hand. With each soft kiss, she had grown more sexually aware of him. She longed to feel herself against him as close as skin to his muscled body, to feel her fingers sliding through the black hair on his bare chest. To feel his pulse deep within her.
Then when he had kissed her, it had been she who boldly parted her lips. But she still had not succumbed completely to her physical yearning. Then her thoughts trailed to the days when she thought she had lost him to Carlotta, had thought to never again feel his lips against hers. She had begged to have another chance, and now she basked in the sensuousness of Thomas Moreland. Her second chance had come.
This moment of passionate pleasure compensated for the years she had been cloaked in grief. Thomas cares! She kept telling herself. Thomas cares for me! Nothing else mattered. No one else existed, save her dark lover.
Yet she found even the long desired kiss was not enough. She wanted more. She wanted to feel him within her more than she had ever wanted anything. Only that would complete their union. Hers and Thomas’s. They had to be one.
Yes, it was surely the wine that made her forget she was a lady, forget that they were not in a private place. All that mattered at the moment was that Thomas take possession of her. It most certainly must be the wine that was urging her to act so recklessly.
She was powerless to resist when his fingers moved to unfasten her pelisse. And when he closed his lips over her breast, she thought she would ignite from the swirling heat that consumed her.
Now that she felt Thomas’s lifeblood pumping into her, she could no more stop it than she could pluck the stars from the night skies. Even if she had wanted it to stop. Which she didn’t.
Soon she felt Thomas’s essence begin to slip down her thighs, and still she could not bring herself to part from him. This—being within Thomas’s arms, joined at the bottom of their torsos—was where she had dreamed of being. She could not bear to stop it even when their rhythm slowed and their breathing returned to normal.
Then Thomas suddenly pulled away, hurriedly readjusting his breeches and smoothing down her skirt. “Someone’s coming!” he warned, urgency in his voice.
She stood still and listened, then heard Carlotta’s laughter. Thank God, Thomas had heard. How shocking it would have looked for her to be seen with her skirts up, Thomas taking his pleasure from her.
Then out of the blue, the wantonness of her own actions hit her like a bucket of ice water.
Her mouth opened and she gazed at Thomas with watery eyes. “What you must think of me,” she murmured, her eyes lowered in shame.
He moved to her and lifted her chin possessively. “I love you. You’re the most wonderful woman I’ve ever known.”
She slapped his hand away as tears sprang to her eyes. “Please leave me alone,” she hissed, pulling up the hem of her skirt and taking off at a run.
The colonel dreamed of Felicity. She greedily lifted her lips, but it wasn’t him who tasted them. Something deep and depressing gnawed at him. Then he realized what it was. Felicity would not kiss him. The Upstart had stolen her kisses and her heart.
He jerked awake and sat up, only to discover he had been dreaming. He saw that all the blankets were empty. Everyone had gone to see the ruins. No doubt Felicity was enjoying them this very minute with the Upstart. Damn.
His gaze drifted to the hill to where the ruins stood, and he saw a blond woman in blue running down the hill toward him. Felicity.
As she drew closer, he saw that her pelisse gaped open where it had been buttoned.
And he knew.
He would have to act fast.
Chapter Twenty-nine
It was the wine, Felicity told herself as she sat on the blanket and solemnly watched Thomas start down the hill. How else could she explain her reckless behavior? What terrible things must Thomas think of her! Certainly, he had told her he loved her, but what man wouldn’t say those words to a woman who had just given him total access to her body?
Michael had told her about the sexual drives of men. Nay, he had done more than tell her, he had showed her. Making love was something men never tired of. They were not like women. Michael had said that most men did not even have to be in love with the woman to lie with her.
Thomas Moreland was most certainly a man. More of one than anyone she had ever known. Even Michael. Thomas must have lain with many women of easy virtue. Women like her, she thought morosely. Surely she had lost him with her foolish lack of control. What gentleman would wish to align himself with a harlot like her?
“I wish to ride home in Mr. Blankenship’s carriage,” Felicity told the colonel.
“Then I shall look forward to the journey,” Gordon answered.
Perhaps it was the alcohol that dulled his response, for the colonel’s voice lacked the usual jubilation that inflected his words when she was favoring him with her company. Could he know? About Thomas and me?
When Thomas came back to the blanket area, he sat beside Felicity again and poured himself a glass of wine. “More wine, Mrs. Harrison? Colonel?”
“I think the colonel and I both have had far more than we should have.”
“Yes,” the colonel said, “I suppose that is what made my eyelids so devilishly heavy.”
Thomas’s face was grim. “It certainly can do that.”
If only the wine had affected her as it had affected the colonel, she lamented. But, oh no, it had turned her into a trollop!
Soon Blanks returned with Carlotta and Glee. Carlotta was laughing and animated; Glee, quiet and solemn.
“I believe I would like to ride back in your coach,” Felicity told Blanks.
“Then I will swap places with you,” Glee snapped.
Her brows sinking, Felicity gazed at her sister. Whatever could have made her so solemn? She had been in the best of spirits this morning.
Then so had Felicity. Now she could gladly hide her face so she wouldn’t have to see Thomas. After she had . . . Oh, how could she have been so devoid of propriety?
It was not just the wine. Thomas’s touch had the power to make her lose all sense of right and wrong. After all, the line separating good from bad was so insignificant, especially when she was with Thomas. She had only herself to blame for her wanton behavior.
Another five minutes passed before George and Dianna returned. With misty eyes, Felicity noticed that Dianna’s pelisse also had been unbuttoned. Then Felicity suddenly realized she had not taken time to refasten hers. A quick glance at her chest confirmed the disappointing reality. It was too late to fasten it now. There was only one thing to do. She must pretend to be terribly hot.
“I daresay walking up those hills will make one quite hot. Is that not correct, Dianna?”
Dianna’s glance flickered to her open pelisse. “Yes, I became terribly hot myself.”
“Well, I thought it was most pleasant,” Carlotta countered.
It was obvious Carlotta had not broken a sweat.
Blanks turned to Glee. “Did you find it hot, Miss Pembroke?”
“I was quite comfortable, thank you.”
Whatever had made Glee so very curt and glum? Surely she hadn’t seen Felicity and Thomas.
“I see that my footmen have cleaned up the leavings of our picnic,” Thomas remarked.
“Well, we’ve eaten and we’ve hiked to the ruins,” Blanks said. “Anyone ready to
return to Bath?”
“I should think all of us are,” the colonel said. His voice lacked the bitterness that had been in it earlier in the afternoon.
As Felicity sat there still moistened from Thomas’s essence, she prayed it would not bleed through her skirts. She prayed, too, that she would not have to sit beside him much longer. She needed to be away from him. Away from his debilitating presence and the wantonness he evoked in her.
Thomas was the first to get up. He offered Glee his hand, then George and Dianna followed. Felicity stood and, with tightened chest and misty eyes, watched them walk to Thomas’s carriage.
With lead in her steps, she walked beside the colonel, who followed Blanks to his coach.
On the return to Bath, Felicity spoke little and gave no encouragement to the colonel, who tried to engage her in conversation. She ignored Blanks’s flirting with Carlotta, her own thoughts on the strange union that had occurred between Thomas and herself.
Her cheeks flamed as she remembered the way her hand had curled around him, below his waist. He must think her very fast indeed. With her galling behavior, she surely had lost his affections.
When Blanks’s carriage drew up at her town house, she flew into her house, ran upstairs to her chamber, and bolted the door behind her. She wanted no intrusion. In fact, all she wanted at this moment was to never have to face Thomas again. She would have to leave Bath. But how could she? She did have the settlement from Thomas. Of course, she could no longer accept it. Not now. Now that she had truly earned the settlement as surely as a mistress earned her keep. Heat spread up her cheeks.
No, she could never face Thomas again. Wanton creature that she was.
An hour later, Stanton informed her that Thomas was downstairs, begging to speak to her.
“Tell him I am not in,” Felicity instructed.
Her answer was the same the following day when Thomas called. She dared not leave her home for fear of having to face him. Would she never breathe fresh air again?
It had been three days since Felicity had so freely given herself to him. Three days of hell. How could an act that was so wondrous bring him such agony?
Did Felicity—his Felicity—not understand how deeply he loved her? Worshiped the ground she trod?
Did she not realize that since she had given herself to him so completely, he loved her even more than he had thought possible? With every breath he drew, he thought of her. Longed for her.
Yet she had refused to see him. He’d come to her door every morning and every afternoon, and each time the butler conveyed the same lie. Mrs. Harrison is not in.
Finally he had broken down and written her a long letter in which he tried to capture the depth of his feelings toward her. It had taken him all of one long, tortured night to write it. It had to emphasize how dear she was to him—even more now that she had allowed him to love her so thoroughly.
When a day passed and he had no answer and was still being barred from seeing her, he realized she must have thrown his unopened letter upon her fire. She would not bend to his will. Ever again.
He grew desperate to see her. There was nothing to do but to throw himself on George’s mercy. With that thought, Thomas went to his big desk and withdrew a sheet of vellum and began to spill his heart onto the pages of a letter to his beloved’s brother. Then he read the letter and decided to tear it up. Far better to speak to Sedgewick himself.
Though it was nine o’clock at night, he called for his horse and donned his greatcoat. Ten minutes later, he was rapping at the door of the Charles Street house.
“Mrs. Harrison is not in,” the butler told him.
“It’s not Mrs. Harrison I wish to see,” Thomas answered. “I have come to speak to her brother.”
A look of mistrust on his aging face, Stanton eased open the door. “Please take a seat in the library. I will tell Lord Sedgewick you are here.”
Thomas was pleased Sedgewick wasn’t out with Blankenship tonight. A moment later, George entered the chamber, glanced at Thomas and grew alarmed. “Is everything all right?”
Thomas smiled. “Everything is all right with my sister. I wish I could say the same for me.”
George’s brows drew together in concern. “What’s the problem? Anything I can help with?”
Thomas gave a bitter laugh. “My problem is your stubborn sister.”
George shrugged, then sat down near Thomas. “Don’t know why she’s refusing to see you again, old chap. Then, I’d be enormously rich if I possessed knowledge of the female mind. Any number of men would beg to purchase such.”
“I would, though I believe I know why your sister refuses to see me.”
“Do you, now?” Clearly, George expected forthcoming elaboration.
All Thomas did was nod. “I have come here tonight to throw myself upon your mercy.”
“My mercy?” George asked quizzically.
“I need for you to convey a message to Felicity from me.”
“I will be happy to.”
“I want you to tell her I love her. I’ve never loved anyone but her. I’ve loved her since the night I met her.” He stopped for a moment, then cleared his throat. “Tell her since the day at the ruins I love her more than I ever thought it possible to love another being. Tell her I want to marry her and to be hers to command for all eternity.”
“Don’t see how my sister could turn a cold shoulder to that eloquence.” George stood up. “I better fetch paper and write all this down. Don’t want to forget anything vital.”
He was back a moment later, quill and paper in hand. He stood with the paper on the liquor cabinet’s surface and began to write. “First point. You love her. Second point. Always have. Third point—”
Thomas interrupted. “Second point is I have always loved her since the first night I met her.”
George nodded. “Quite so. Let me add that.” He wrote for a moment, then said, “Third point, since what happened at the ruins, you love her more than ever.” George sent Thomas a shimmering, admiring gaze. “Is that correct?”
“It is.”
“The fourth point is you want to marry her. Fifth point, you want to live forever with her. Does that cover everything?”
“Everything except when I can expect you to impart the information to her. You must realize I’m on tenterhooks.”
“Quite so, I expect. I can only say I’m grateful your sister is not given to the flights my sisters are. In answer to your question, expect her to receive your message no later than tomorrow morning. I’ll try to speak with her tonight, but you know how unpredictable women are.”
Thomas smiled. “Will you tell Felicity to send me a reply? If it’s in the affirmative, I shall fly here to propose on bended knee.”
George folded the paper. “I’ll tell her all of that.”
Even though it had been three days, Felicity’s door was still barred. Only Lettie had been allowed in to bring Felicity modest meals, even though Felicity protested that she wanted to die. Such thoughts, however, did not actually extend to refusing all food.
George knocked at her chamber door.
“Who is it?” she demanded in an agitated voice.
“It’s George. I have to talk to you.”
She crossed the room and opened the door to him. He strolled into her room and plopped on her bed.
She faced him, sincerely hoping nothing had happened to cause a rift between himself and Miss Moreland. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
“Moreland has just left.” He pulled his paper from his pocket and unfolded it.
“I will not listen to anything he has to say,” she protested.
“This ain’t a letter for you, I’ll have you know.”
Her brows arched.
“I’ll make this quick, and you must listen carefully.” His glance flickered to the paper for the briefest of seconds, then he looked back to her. “Moreland’s in love with you. Has been since the first night he met you. He says he loves you even more sinc
e what happened at the ruins, and he wants to marry you and have you—no, make that, have each other—for all eternity.”
He looked up and saw the watery pools shimmering around her eyes. “What’s wrong, pet?”
“Can’t you see? He feels compelled to offer for me because he feels he has compromised my good name.”
“Oh, dear,” George said, unable to meet his sister’s stare. “I never thought of it that way.” He sat quietly for a moment. “But I’ll swear that’s not it, pet. He told me the day I asked for Dianna’s hand that he was in love with you.”
“He did?”
“He did indeed. Can you not believe him?”
Tears began to trickle down her fair cheeks, but she made no move to wipe them. “I don’t know what to believe. Think of it from my point of view. I cannot accept a man whose offer comes only from gallantry.”
“ ‘Tis not gallantry, Sis. The man truly loves you and has since he met you. If you must know, he looks wretched. I’ll wager he’s not slept these past three nights. He begs you send him a response. If he’s anything like I was the day I begged for Dianna’s hand, he would likely walk through a snowstorm to get it.”
Felicity moved to hug her brother. “Thank you for coming. You’ve made my heart far less heavy.” She stepped back and looked at him and realized she had experienced no shame when she all but told her brother she and Thomas had made love. “I will give him my response tomorrow.”
Chapter Thirty
After George left, Felicity pondered over the fact she had been without embarrassment when she had told her brother she had lain with Thomas. Could that mean something? Was what had happened between Thomas and her really not so terrible after all, given that they loved each other? For she knew without doubt she loved him, and she was beginning to understand that he must love her in the same way.
As she lay down to sleep, hope bubbled in her bruised heart. Tomorrow she would tell her Thomas the truth. That she loved him as she had never loved Michael. As she never knew she could love a man. Tomorrow, her Thomas would ask her to become his wife.
