"Dare what?" he asked, as he lunged forward to catch her. She squealed and dodged him, though barely, and ran towards the cottage laughing.
He followed, trying to reach her as she ran in circles, hiding behind trees, doing everything she could to avoid him.
In the kitchen, Cook looked at the time and wondered where Fleur had gone off to with her eggs.
A MATTER OF TIME
Fleur gazed at her reflection in the mirror and flushed. The dress was simple, elegant, and silver netting cascaded down the most emerald of greens. It was the dress, the one Julia had persuaded her into but she never dared wear, not until now, and could not help but own she felt beautiful.
She leaned forward to smooth her chignon, catching a glimpse of the swell of her breasts in the mirror. She leaned back, hastily, covering herself and wondering if she should not wear a chemisette after all. She had never wanted it before, to have men gaze at her, though it was not lost on her that she wanted Evan to gaze upon her, to want her and to think her as beautiful as she felt.
Seeing the sky grow dim with the warmth of the setting sun, she knew it was time. Excitement thrilled through her at imagining him waiting for her. She had no idea what he had planned for them this evening, but she could no longer wait to go to him.
Making her way out of the cottage she walked down the clearing towards the road that lead to the main house. The pond was not far, so visitors would see the water and the sweeping willow trees on its banks as they arrived.
She walked towards the trees, not seeing Evan but catching a glimpse of light shining from under the canopy. She moved forward, separating the willows with her hand, and as she stepped inside, she gasped.
Lanterns twinkled, made brighter from the darkness of the branch cover. They sat strategically placed around within, and hung from branches galore. She saw a small round table, chairs arranged on either side adorned with linens, wine, and table settings. It was like a painted scene from Vauxhall Gardens, shimmering with light.
Walking further into the secluded area she saw him, standing by the water's edge, looking out over the horizon, his hands clasped behind his back. He was wearing what she had come to think of as his customary browns, his pantaloons showing every line of his muscled legs, his figure making a dark silhouette against the soft glow of the remaining sunlight.
"Evan," she spoke, barely above a whisper.
He turned and saw her, and looked long, his eyes roaming over her just as she imagined, exactly how she wanted. She walked over to him, joining him by the water, turning to look up at him.
"This is beyond anything I imagined, Evan. Did you do all this yourself?
He gave her a brisk nod. "Most of it, though Briggs had the table brought down from the attic."
She laughed, turning back to look at it. "The table?"
"I covered it," he said, smirking, turning towards her. "And all has been checked for weasels, Madam, you are quite safe."
"As are you," she teased and he laughed.
"I may have been a bit frightened by the weasel," he admitted, "but only a tiny bit."
He escorted her to the table. She sat, and he reached under the cover, removing a basket. Opening it, he laid out different foods and wine and took the seat across from her. He motioned to her to fill her plate first, and they began to eat.
She watched him, and she could tell he was hesitant. Several times she thought he was going to speak, but then he would look down at his plate, or sip his wine, averting his eyes. Suddenly she knew that if she was going to get Evan to open his heart to her fully, she would have to first unlock it.
So she asked about his life, the one she knew not of, wanting to know all about his university years and beyond. He asked about her debut, first jealousy and then amusement clear when she told him of her many offers, and how her father had refused every single one. He told her he would have to shake her father's hand for chasing off so many ne'er-do-wells.
But through all of this, they carefully avoided the one issue she knew would bring both of them pain. But how do you ask a man intimate questions when you have not known him as such, she wondered. She also knew they would have to eventually speak about it, and soon, so she took the risk upon herself, along with a steadying breath.
"Evan?"
He looked up from his dinner, where he had been shuffling cheese across his plate with his fork for the last few minutes. Placing his fork down, he took one last sip of wine, looking at her over the glass. "Yes?"
She held her breath, but pressed on. "Why did you leave, or rather, why did you not return?"
One never knew how Evan would react to a thing, emotions always having an inconstant and jarring effect on him. So when he abruptly stood and walked from the table, she panicked, quickly rising and grasping his arm.
"Don't go."
He turned to her, regretting his rash action leading to her distress. "I wasn't ... I just needed to move, to not feel confined."
Hurt, she let her hand fall from his arm and turned from him. Cursing his inelegant tongue, he walked up behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "I don't mean to say that you make me feel confined, I only meant ... honestly, I don't know how to explain my feelings to you. I never have."
She started to turn, and he held her. "No, don't, I don't know if I can get through this if I see your feelings upon your face."
Nodding, she slowly turned her head back around and stood silent.
"It's one of my nightmares, you know, the way you might perceive me once I returned. The longer I stayed away, the worse my fears became, and I knew you would be angry."
"I would not have been," she argued.
"Truly? I don't believe that, and I don't believe you do either."
"Perhaps I would have been at first, but I still don't understand. How many times have we quarreled? More times than I can recall, and I know you're not afraid of my ire or my censure."
Evan closed his eyes, hands gripping her shoulders tightly. She reached up and laid her hand over his own. "Please, tell me."
He opened his eyes, focusing on the back of her head. "I didn't know how to ask your forgiveness — I still don't — and I didn't know how to come home after I had made such a spectacular arse of myself."
"Is that the only reason?" she whispered.
He swallowed. "I don't know."
Angry, Fleur whipped around to face him. "You don't know? Do you want to know what I know, Evan? Do you want to know how wretched I felt? You left without so much as a goodbye or any indication of when you might return, and if that weren't bad enough, you didn't return because you didn't know how?"
She turned and started to walk away, and he ran to her, grasping her by her waist, pulling her back into his chest as she struggled to get away.
"I did not know if I could live my life next to you," he said, his deep voice in her ear, and she went dead still. "If I could only be your friend. How could I live my life apart from you? Unable to be yours in the most intimate of ways?"
He hugged her closer, knowing what he was about to reveal would upset her. "That day was never meant to be the last time I saw you. I had intended ... I was going to ask you to marry me that night, Fleur, the night of your birthday."
She turned in his arms and looked at him in astonishment. "What? I ... marriage? You wanted to propose?"
He nodded. "I had it all planned for weeks before I returned home."
Fleur closed her eyes, tears welling within. "But you ... all this time wasted, when we could have been together."
Evan wanted to die when he saw the first tear fall, and a little more at the second. "I know," he said, unable to defend himself further.
"All you had to do was say that you were sorry."
"I am sorry —"
"And I would have forgiven you, always —"
"I am asking you to now." Evan watched her carefully, knowing the fate of his entire life lay in this one moment. In her answer.
"I forgive you," she whispere
d and he kissed her, her soft lips warm against his own in the cool night air. His arms brought her body against his own, and she shivered.
He rubbed her arms, his own hands shivering not from the chill in the air but from nerves. He had done it, he finally told her everything bottled within him all those years, all his feelings and his fears. And she had accepted him, fully, and without dependence upon future promises never to misstep, or false hope he would never make mistakes again. Because he knew they both would, but they would find their way together this time. Never alone again.
They stayed that way, under the lighted canopy, tentatively kissing one another, until finally the cold forced them inside. As they walked back to the cottage hand in hand neither said anything. They did not need to.
Evan opened the front door to the cottage and placed his hand on the small of her back, ushering her inside. He lit another candle from one already burning and handed it to her.
"You go on, I'll be up directly," he said, wanting to give her time and privacy to ready herself for bed.
To his surprise, she shook her head and took his hand, and led him up the stairs into their bedchamber. Once there, she led him to the bed and he sat down upon it, she standing before him.
Fleur lifted her hand to run fingers through his hair. "I do not wish for you to stay away at night anymore, Evan. I want you to stay. I want you."
He looked up into her eyes as his hand moved towards her hip slowly. Worried he had mistaken her meaning, he hesitated until she nodded her approval. Then he felt the soft curve of her waist before he moved his hand around to her back, bringing her to him, resting his head on her stomach.
Turning gently, he placed a kiss just beneath her breast. Her breath quickened under his lips, giving him courage to pull her down into his lap. Elation coursed through him at the feeling of her wrapped in his arms, holding her as he had imagined so many times before.
Her breathed in slowly, his senses clearing as he remembered himself. "We should wait. You deserve to be courted properly, Fleur," he whispered, punctuating his words with kisses to her cheeks and the curve of her ear.
"I've had enough of wooing and courting," she said, her breath heavy, hands balled into fists, crushing the shoulders of his coat.
He kissed her temple, moving down to lick the soft flesh of her lobe. "Are you certain?"
She felt his breath, a warm soft breeze upon her neck, and unable to think or answer with words, she nodded instead.
Evan lifted her as he stood, turning to set her down gently upon the bed before stretching out beside her. He looked down upon her, leaning to kiss her fast and fiercely. His free hand found her hair, unpinning and shaking it loose to fall in soft waves around her face.
She trembled as he moved his lips down her jaw and onto the hollow of her throat; she gasped and swiped at her hair to uncover herself, wanting more, needing to feel his lips upon her neck.
As the back of his hand moved slowly down and across her décolletage, her breathed hitched, and he hesitated at the swell of her breasts. She looked into his eyes, searching his face, wondering why he had stopped.
"Fleur, I need for you to be absolutely certain. Is this what you want?"
She blinked, confused. "What? Why are you asking me questions?" she asked breathlessly as she grasped the back of his head and pulled him back down to her.
He laughed and kissed her again, winding his arms around her as he rolled until he was on his back, and she lay nearly on top of him. Fleur ran her hand down his chest and watched as he gasped for air, feeling the beat of his heart as fast as her own.
She smiled when he grasped her hand and pulled her down once more. His lips were warm on the crook of her neck, and she moved her head aside, inviting him in as he pulled the string of her laces, untying the back of her dress and corset.
Fleur felt a slight shock of connection as Evan trailed his hands up her arms before pushing her silk gown down, the front falling away to reveal her shoulders. He rose, kissing first one shoulder then the other. When he moved his mouth down and across the top of her breast she held her breath, releasing it once she felt his tongue move in between her breasts, surprised at the strength of her own excitement.
Suddenly he raised himself further, moving them both as they stood from the bed. Her dress slipped down to her ankles, leaving her in only her shift. She watched him, heart pounding, and he gazed upon her as she stepped slowly out from her dress, the thin fabric of her shift hiding nothing. Standing before him, she felt both beautiful and exposed, apprehensive yet left wanting more.
Evan looked at her long, unmoving, and when she could take no more she bravely reached up and untied his cravat with trembling hands, determined. The sound of linen swished as she slowly pulled the fabric from around his neck.
He reached up, making to remove his coat and she stopped him, sliding her own hands onto his shoulders, and like he did before, sliding his coat down his arms. She pulled his shirt from his pantaloons and he shrugged off his remaining coat, grasping his shirt from behind and pulling it over his head before throwing it to the ground.
She reached up slowly, placing her hands on his chest before moving them onto his shoulders again, and as he stood half-naked in the moonlight she explored him. She felt him gasp slightly when she ran a hand over his nipple and stopped, looking up at him, wondering if she had done something wrong.
"Keep going," he whispered, in no frame of mind to explain further.
She trailed her hands lower, hesitating only for a moment before she tried to unbutton the waist with unsteady fingers. "I don't know what I am doing."
Evan took control and rid himself of his bottoms, kicking them off to the side and out of their way.
Fleur took in the sight of him as her breath and will left her. "Oh, God," she gasped.
His hands wound around her waist, pulling her to him, and he touched her cheek. "Don't be afraid."
She could feel the length of him hard against her with only her shift to separate them, and as he trailed his hands down, heat followed in their wake, exploding when he gathered the thin fabric in his hand and pulled it up enough to brush the bare skin of her thigh.
She sighed at the connection she'd wished for, not knowing how she'd needed him as he caressed her thigh and hip. His fingers clenched, pulling her into him hard, and he kissed her again, deeper, feverish, until she gasped for breath.
Her arms raised, and he took the cue to remove the offending fabric, her body trembling; there was finally nothing between them. He walked her backwards, and when he felt the back of her thighs bump the bed, he halted.
Before she could react, he placed his hands around her waist and lifted her, her legs parting and wrapping around his waist as she clutched his arms, steadying herself, pulling her to him as much as she was able. She held on, looking down into his eyes before kissing him again, this time slowly, on his lips, his neck, anywhere she could reach, her kisses no longer shy.
He climbed upon the bed, she still clinging to him, and after he laid her down, he rose and looked down at her.
"Beautiful," he muttered.
Her face burned, and his eyes settled on her, and when his hand skimmed out from under her thigh and moved down towards her knee, he fumbled uselessly with her garter.
"I suppose I don't know what I'm doing either."
She laughed, relieved at knowing they could learn together. She reached down to unfasten her garters slowly, Evan watching her, and once freed, he slipped her stockings off, one by one.
Leaning down, he propped himself up between her legs and kissed her, moving his hand up her inner thigh, and she opened to him, breath held as he slowly stroked upwards. She counted the seconds until he finally touched her, his thumb sliding through wet heat as she jolted from surprise and from the sensations of his hand upon her.
He circled his thumb, and she grasped his shoulder hard as he moved against her. Cupping her, he parted her and slipped a finger inside, slowly. Unable to handle the t
argeted sensations alone, she pulled him to her.
"Kiss me?" she asked.
He nodded and touched her lips with his own, tentatively, slowly, much more so than he had before, and she felt his care for her as he slowed to the tune of her body.
She sighed, finding pleasure in the slow rhythm, and when she'd caught her breath, he took her hand in his and placed it gently onto himself, moving with him as her guide. When she circled her thumb around the slick head of his crown, he gasped into her mouth, and the excitement of the action thrilled her.
He slipped another finger inside, pushing into her more fully, and when she palmed him with a twist of her hand, they neither one could wait a moment longer.
He released her and laid both hands on her hips, looking down to her as he pulled her towards him. He covered her mouth with his own once again, shifting to move between her legs, spreading them wider with his hips. She felt him move slightly, guiding himself up, then down, stroking her blissfully, and her fingers flew to his neck and tangled in his hair as he pressed forward, finally breaching her.
He moaned as he slipped inside, both of them trying to breathe and failing. She was tight around him and he waited, whispering soothing words of love in her ear. His hand cupped her breast, thumbing her nipple, and as the sensations battled against pain, she felt the need to move against him. So she did, and he took her.
He moved deeper into her, pulling back only to take her deeper with every new movement. Her only thought was of him, and he was everywhere, gripping her hips, breath against breath, inside of her, and she wrapped her legs tighter around him, bracing herself to take him deeper, needing more of him. Needing all of him.
Her breath shallowed, her body tightened, heart beating harder with every thrust until her neck rose off the bed with a snap, and she shattered. She cried out, realizing only then what had happened, and at the same time, she felt him let go, pushing with one final flex of his hips as he buried himself inside her, deep, gasping her name.
Leaning his head on her shoulder, she moved her hand up and down his arm as he held her, their breath still charging like stallions, her legs still draped around him, he still inside her. She closed her eyes, rested her head next to his own, and sighed.
Marriage to a Mister (A Daughters of Regency #1) Page 21
