“What do you mean?”
“Would you share my bed?” He sat up and found her standing only a few feet away.
She flinched but did not run away. “It would seem the least I could do.”
Laughing, he said, “Not exactly the romantic image I had hoped for.”
She walked closer until she stood in front of him with only an inch separating them. “You may have me now if you wish.” Her voice trembled.
His groin jumped in response to her offer, but he put his hands on her hips and leaned his head against her stomach.
She trembled, but stood her ground.
Incredible as it sounded, she would allow him to deflower her. “Oh, Dory, you do tempt me.”
Tentatively, she touched his hair. “I think I heard a ‘but’ coming next.”
He gazed at her perfect face. Her hand was still in his hair moving in tiny circles. It was an innocent touch but it felt erotic to him. Any touch from her would have had that effect he suspected.
Forcing a smile, he only wanted to ease her fear of him. “But it would be beneath both of us to make love here in my study without a marriage to make it legal.”
“Are you saying you will marry me?” No joy bubbled in her voice at the notion. She sounded more like a death sentence had been averted and she would only suffer life in prison.
He took her hands out of his hair, kissed the back of one, and then the other, and stood. So she could sit in the chair he’d vacated, he pulled another from a few feet away. He sat so close, their knees almost touched.
“I hope you will forgive me, Dory, but my answer is no. I cannot believe I am saying it myself. If you truly wished to be my wife, it would make me unspeakably happy, but like this it is less than romantic. In fact, it borders on the morbid.”
She frowned. “I could have come to you with lies and told you I was madly and rapturously in love with you and could not live without you another moment. Would that have altered your decision?”
“It might have.”
A furrow appeared between her brows.
Thomas reached out and smoothed the wrinkle. “I am glad you did not attempt to mislead me, Dory. I wish I could help you. For the first time in my life I wish I was a lord or a knight so I would be worthy of your hand. However, my station is to be a gentleman and yours a countess. It would be selfish of me to lower your status in society.”
She let out a long sigh. “I do not give a damn about titles. I am to be married to a lecherous old man who will keep me as a trophy and perhaps allow me to play pianoforte from time to time to entertain his friends. Everything I have ever wanted tossed aside. My mother will do as she has always threatened and burn all of my music.” She leaned forward and touched his face. “Everything I am is about to be ripped from me. Can you understand, Thomas?”
He put his hand over hers and kissed her palm. “You are overwrought and have exaggerated the situation. I have never heard anything violent about Henry Casper. Though he is old for you he lives well and will provide for you in the fashion to which you have been raised.”
“You are wealthy,” she said.
He laughed. “I have ample funds, but I am not titled and I never shall be.”
“You are a snob, Thomas. If I do not care about a title, then, why should you?”
“You should care, Dory. I will admit that my association with Marlton and now with Kerburghe has afforded me more invitations than most gentlemen of my station receive, but I fear you would find life as Mrs. Wheel very unappealing.”
“Are you a man with a terrible temper?” she asked.
Surprised by the question, he sat up straighter. “I do not think so.”
“Would you keep your wife from pursuing her own goals?”
“I don’t believe so, as long as the goals did not put her in harm’s way.”
“So, if I wanted to join the fire brigade you would be opposed to that venture?” Her eyes narrowed but she did not smile.
He shook his head but answered. “The fire brigade would be quite a dangerous endeavor, and I would advise my wife against such foolishness.”
“Yes,” she said. “You do sound like a tyrant. I think it obvious we would not suit.” Sarcasm dripped from her words. She squared her shoulders and stood.
“I do not believe you have thought this through.” He stood with her.
She turned and raised her eyebrows. “You believe I am impulsive and rash?”
A small voice inside his head told him he should take care with his next statement, but he ignored it. “In this decision, you seem to have jumped before looking.”
Pursing her lips, she nodded. “Do you know what it takes to play the pianoforte as I do?”
The question was so out of context, he fumbled for his answer. “I believe I do. I have tried to become more accomplished and my talent has limited me.”
“Have you sat for hours at a piano to achieve perfection in one stanza?”
“I have,” he admitted.
“I have not heard you play, Thomas, though I hear you are accomplished, and I have heard you say you are not. I suspect you play very well but are not gifted with that something which makes one musician stand out among the rest.”
He hated that she was so accurate in her description of his skills.
“I do not mean to insult you. It is just fate that makes one person good and another great. A cruel joke, if you will. My curse is being a woman. If I were a man with the talent that god gave me, I would play to massive crowds and kings would sponsor me. Not that this is what I want really. I want to be allowed to play every day for the rest of my life. I am not the type who jumps in without looking and have been analyzing my options for weeks. I examined it as I would a new piece of music. You were not a whim of mine to get me out of trouble. I believe we could make a nice marriage.”
“Nice,” he repeated in the same monotone she gave her speech.
“There is nothing wrong with nice.”
He closed the distance between them.
Her chest heaved.
“Nice is not good enough for me.” His arm came around her waist and in spite of the twelve-inch difference in their heights his lips were on hers before she could protest. She was stiff in his arms, but she put her hands on his shoulders and did not push away. Patience kept him gentle while he wanted to thrust his tongue in her mouth and taste her sweetness. One sip at a time, he caressed her lips with his. He ran his hand up and down her side from her hip to the edge of her breast, longing to feel her flesh rather than the soft material of her gown. Not touching her anywhere too intimate strained his desires.
She softened in his arms.
A sigh escaped her lips and Thomas took the opportunity to sweep the inside of her lips with his tongue.
She gasped and he plunged inside. Her tongue was less forceful, but she joined him in the pleasure of the kiss.
Nipping at her lips, he watched her. “I will think about everything you have said tonight, My Lady. I am also cautious and like to give a large decision my full attention before jumping in.”
He released her.
Dory straightened her dress. If he had wanted to put a name to the expression on her face, he would have said she appeared confused. He thought it was not a bad start.
“May I ask why you are so hesitant?”
“Shall I be completely honest?” he asked.
“I would prefer that you were always honest with me.”
He nodded. “I am very fond of you, Dorothea, and have long thought you are one of the most beautiful and talented women in London. What you propose opens you up to a rather large scandal. Elopement is bad enough, but to run off with someone beneath you in station could be something you would not recover from.”
“I am not concerned with my reputation,” she protested.
“We
ll, I am. I think not being invited to the most fashionable homes in London would make you unhappy. I would not want my wife to be unhappy.”
“That is very kind of you, but I am willing to risk censure to have a life that includes my music.”
Wishing she would say something more heartfelt would not make it so. “I would like a wife who wanted me for something other than my love of music. I am also concerned by your apathy toward a romantic involvement.”
“So idealistic, Thomas.” She rolled her eyes.
His fingers itched to pull her back against him and take all she offered, but the damned voice of reason kept his hands at his sides. “I did not realize it myself, but I find the notion of a wife whose only interest in me is escaping a worse situation abhorrent.” He held up his hand to stop her from further comment. “However, that kiss we shared was not apathetic nor were you uninterested. I wonder if helping you would not also suit my own desires.”
Her eyes widened. “I already told you I would share your bed.”
He touched her cheek. “Oh, Dory, I wish you could believe all men are not cut from the same cloth as your father.”
She shrugged.
“Perhaps in time you will learn differently.” He brushed a single tear away from her lashes.
Straightening, she stepped away from him. “My parents will announce my betrothal in less than a fortnight at mother’s ball.”
He dropped into a low bow. “You will have my answer before then.”
Meet the Author
A.S. Fenichel gave up a successful IT career in New York City to follow her husband to Texas and pursue her lifelong dream of being a professional writer. She’s never looked back. Multi-published in erotic paranormal, erotic contemporary, Regency historical romance and historical paranormal romance, A.S. will be bringing you her brand of romance for many years to come. A.S. loves to hear from her readers. Be sure to write visit her website at asfenichel.com, find her on Facebook, and follow her on Twitter.
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